#dubcon cw
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BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.
✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+
this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!
PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!
✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)
✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.
i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.
also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh
✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.
Bastard.
An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.
The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.
Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.
The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.
The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.
A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.
You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.
Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.
There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.
The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.
Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.
Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.
You think the worst of your life started there.
Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.
The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.
Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.
A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.
The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.
(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)
Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone.
At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.
Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it.
Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.
And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.
Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.
Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.
Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.
For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.
It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.
The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.
The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.
At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity.
He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.
When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.
Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.
The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.
How he would treat you.
("So you're the new brat,"
Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.
He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.
"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."
Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.
"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")
The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.
Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.
You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.
You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.
Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.
The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.
A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.
You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.
The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.
Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.
And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.
The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.
They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem
The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.
And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.
The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.
Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.
Your uncle is above all things manipulative.
Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.
You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.
You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.
And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.
It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.
Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.
In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.
(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.
Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)
You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.
About everything.
An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.
("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"
"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.
"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."
"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"
She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .
"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."
"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?
Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.
"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."
You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.
You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)
You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.
(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)
Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.
The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.
You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.
So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.
On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.
__
The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.
For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.
You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.
Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him.
It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.
But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.
You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .
For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.
You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.
The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.
You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally.
For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.
You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful.
When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.
All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.
"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"
Your stomach churns. You feel sick.
"Come to the living room."
You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance.
Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.
You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.
"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."
You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.
"Did you need something?"
He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."
You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks. Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.
"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"
You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."
"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"
You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.
"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.
"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"
You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way.
There's even less of a normal relationship between you.
But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.
You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.
It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true.
It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read.
You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.
"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.
You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time.
"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."
"People smoke around me all the time."
"Do you smoke?"
You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"
You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.
"Don't like the taste."
"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."
"I just drink socially,"
"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"
This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"
"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"
The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.
"It wasn't that either—I've never-"
He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"
You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.
"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."
"That's—It wasn't for you."
For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.
"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.
There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.
"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.
Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"
"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"
"I don't look like that!"
"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."
Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.
Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice.
There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties.
You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm.
You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane.
But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.
It's relieving in the worst way.
"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.
"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."
Our family. You wince. .
"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."
"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."
You do know that. You cast your gaze away.
"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"
You don't say anything.
"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."
This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.
He grins at you.
"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."
"What's in it for you?"
You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.
You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."
He scoffs a little.
"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."
"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"
"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.
You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago.
You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you.
You look at him.
“You’re horrible.”
“Tell me something new.”
“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.”
You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already.
“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.”
“The contract. Are you serious about that?”
He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.”
“And that’s me?”
“Seems like it,”
You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol.
“...Fine.”
Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to.
It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy.
What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower?
The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all.
Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.”
You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid.
When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle.
You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears.
A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery.
He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria.
All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least.
You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression.
You hit him lightly, looking away from his face.
“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.”
“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is.
You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness.
He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it.
“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?”
Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions.
“How would I know?”
He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?”
You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.”
Sukuna barks a laugh.
“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?”
“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.”
He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can.
Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors.
You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.
You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh.
“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.”
“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?”
“It’s mine to stare at.”
You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy.
But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that.
He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again.
You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up.
“Thought of something, brat?”
“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine.
“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.”
“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”
“Into bad boys or something, kid?”
You frown. “You look like a yakuza.”
This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.”
You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?”
He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want?
“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”
“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.”
You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.
“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter.
With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him.
With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat.
It doesn’t feel unpleasant.
“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad.
“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.”
You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it.
He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you.
Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear.
“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.”
“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.”
“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,”
“There what is?”
“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?”
“What is it, oh.”
His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical.
Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire.
Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice.
The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation.
“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.”
The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers.
“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.”
You don’t even think about asking what he means.
“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.”
He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?”
You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”
Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static.
You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body.
You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins.
“Tastes good, kid.”
You flush. “Shut up.”
“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”
Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you.
“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.”
You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago.
Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge.
“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.”
You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder.
“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.”
Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.
The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs.
Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity?
He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you.
It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes.
And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name.
This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades.
“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.”
It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly.
You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows.
“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.”
“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.”
“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.”
#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#sukuna smut#jjk smut#writing tag#dark content cw#incest cw#dubcon cw#abuse cw#grooming cw#<- kind of sort of not really hes just gross.#THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGER TAGS .. SORRY
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╰┈➤ PRISM ✦ CHIGIRI HYOMA & KUNIGAMI RENSUKE.
⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ What you should not do when you had a fight with your brother? There are many things Chigiri could list but he did not think you would be so naive to bring a familiar face home for netflix and chill.
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⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader, college au, yandere themes, possessive chigiri, incestous relationship, explicit smut, thigh-fucking, m!masturbation, dub-con, non-consensual recording; 1k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |
“So, why is he here?” Chigiri stands against the kitchen counter as you unpack the food Kunigami has brought.
“What? Who? ” You try to play it cool at first as if it was purely coincidental that you and Kunigami met through an online dating app. Chigiri refuses to believe that you did not set this up, that if not you then surely it is his dear friend who coaxed you into this. As far as he knows Kunigami, he is capable of doing such a thing, that is, if he comes to know that you are his sister, a distant relative; it gets hard to remember such a fact when your title is different from his. But that is what gives Chigiri a little relief, a little hope that whatever twisted feelings he has for you are valid and acknowledged.
Chigiri chuckles. He is impressed. He keeps his hand over the kitchen counter and leans towards you. “Well, that guy you brought over. He is …ugh. How should I put it? A friend.” He walks by the counter to stand beside you and as he does you ask him, “Will that be a problem?” without looking at him. He does not answer. He just stares and smiles. You are forced to rake your eyes from him.
You put the food in the microwave, grabbing the bottle of chilled water you say, “I’ve to go now. He is waiting.” and just when you turn on your heel Chigiri’s hand grasps your upper arm and swings you close to him. “What are you doing, hyo—?”
“Shhhhhhh!” Chigiri places a finger over your lips. He does not touch it but it is there. “He is gonna hear you if you yell,” He exclaims with a firm, harsh tone as if he is scolding you. You keep the bottle on the nearby slab, beside the stove. The microwave beeps declaring that it has done it’s job. He leans towards your face, his lips following yours but you turn your head.
“Are you still mad at me?” Chigiri asks letting his hold on your arm loose, his eyes soften but momentarily.
“About what?”
“So, you are not mad at me?” He tugs a few strands of your hair behind your ears.
“I did not say that.” You say and bite your lower lip.
“Fuck. This is not going anywhere.” He walks towards the exit but you stop him. You stop him by saying what he wants to hear, what you want to say and why you are acting so distant towards him.
“Kunigami is just here because I was feeling down.” Chigiri turns his head but not his body. “And, we met online. He knows. He knows that you are my— you stutter. Chigiri walks back to you and grabs you by your waist, inclining his face along the column of your neck, “Say it. Say it, y/n. Say it.” with a hit of hot breath at the fall of his words against your skin.
“That you are my family.” Chigiri gasps. The fact that you decline to acknowledge him as his cousin when he is in close proximity to you gives him wicked hope, feeds his cold courage and inflates his dark desires He kisses you, soft and slowly feeling you melt in his hands as you twist and turn your head giving him more opening.
“The food is gonna get cold.” You state with deep yet shaky breaths.
“And Kuni might be busy watching Netflix.” He remarks and guides your hand towards his hardened cock. You feel him in your hands, hot and hard as he touches you over the cloth. “You can even hear it, what he is watching.” He adds.
You abruptly push him away, both of you huffing and panting. “This is not right. We can’t do this.”
“We can. Don’t worry. I won’t put it in,” Chigiri said closing the gap in between you two.
“Yeah, you said the same thing this afternoon.” you tartly state feeling his hands underneath your shirt. Chigiri holds you by the arms. “I said I’d pull out and I did didn't I?” he corrects you but you instantly respond.
“But we said we wouldn’t do that. We wouldn't go that far—” His eyes fall on you for a few seconds making all your resistive forces in your body fade. He sighs before turning you around and bending you over the kitchen counter. You are wearing a miniskirt and a top. How can he let this opportunity be missed? Extending his hand over your mouth he says. “C’mon! Be a good girl.” You take his fingers in your mouth. He knows you are loud at certain times. He can not risk it now. You do not fight him, nor resist because you have been longing for this too, especially after having a slice of such euphoria this afternoon. Chigiri takes his cock out and puts it in between your inner thighs. Holding your hips he remarks. “Just keep your thighs together.tight,”
He moves his hips back and forth, long enough to wet the thin panty you are wearing. It is going to stain for sure. You feel his dick rub your clit, even through the clothing that makes you feel dizzy. Last time when he went down on you, you squirted so much that it stained his bedsheets. He slips both of his hands under your top, grabbing your boobs and arching you as he continues to move tugging on your hard nipples. You turn around a little leaning towards him to kiss like a sailor clutching onto a trunk of wood but he denies like a cruel wave thrashing away the chance to feel alive. Your lips tremble and you bite back the tears of such insult.
“does it hurt when i do that?”He asks. He does not mean fucking you, and you know that. You do not answer but your silence says it all. “Then, stop doing that to me”
He is close, you can feel him tense up in between your thighs. He lets his arms wrap around your boob line, again and as you turn he kisses your shoulder and bites your ear. The rolls of shiver sparks all across your body while cumming. The white-hot fluid coating the surface of the cupboard and your inner thighs as he pulls out.
“You’re perfect.” he says holding your chin and turning your face. This time, he kisses your collar bones. The minty taste of your brother’s lips, oh! how you have missed that! You can smell it. The kiss lasts longer than you expected it to be, him having you turned around, his hands around your waist and then moving towards your back— touching and kissing.
You turn around breaking the kiss, body exhausted and mind blank because this was not what you intended for. You just wanted him to get jealous. You just wanted to pay him back for what he did this afternoon. You just wanted him to apologize for refusing when you leaned to kiss his lips. He palms your face and kisses the corner of your lips. He never kisses on the lips. Why? Why ? Why ? Why? And someday, he thinks he can do that too.
On the other side of the wall, Kunigami stands with his jeans, and underwear clustered around his ankles. His cock hanging out of his underwear, exhausted and leaking in his hand and phone in other. He saves the audio file and relishes the feeling of showing it to his precious friend, Chigiri Hyoma, as soon as the vacation ends.
—
@angelltheninth @lalunanymph @seirinz @tteokdoroki
#angelshubnetwork#chigiri x reader#chigiri x y/n#chigiri x you#chigiri smut#chigiri hyoma x reader#chigiri hyoma x you#chigiri hyoma smut#kunigami x reader#kunigami x you#kunigami smut#kunigami x y/n#kunigami rensuke smut#kunigami rensuke x reader#bllk smut#bllk x female reader#blue lock smut#bluelock smut#dark content cw#dubcon cw#cw voyeurism#bllk fanfic#bllk fic#blue lock x female reader#cw dark content#cw dubious consent#cw dubcon#yandere cw#cw yandere#dark fanfiction
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"I'd Kill Them For You"
Kinktober Part 3 of 4: Yandere
Nsfw content MDNI
SERIOUS CWs PLEASE MAKE SURE TO CHECK THEM!!!
Characters: Yandere!Asmodeus X GN!Reader
CW: Yandere, Dubcon, Nipple play, Penetration (Receiving.) Asmo being creepy and onsessive. Reader's gender is not mentioned, ambiguous genitals. A little soft.
A/N: I need Asmo to be quite literally crazy about me. It can be kind of intense, so make sure to check the CW. Asmo is obsessed with MC and will do anything to keep them away from anyone who might want them. ~2000 Words
Please check out my fic masterlist <3
You'd been spending an awful lot of time around Asmodeus lately. He seemed to be interested in you and you most certainly were interested in him. Of course, he was beautiful, but he was heart-meltingly sweet as well. The sheer number of times he'd complimented you had boosted your ego to meteoric heights and he was always sharing makeup and skincare products, or taking you shopping to buy your own. He treated you like a princess.
When he caught you in the hall and suggested a girls' night, it was anything but unexpected. Of course you accepted enthusiastically.
Now you're at his door and immediately after you knock, he answers, "Come in!"
Without hesitation, you open the door and walk into his extravagant room. As usual, the dim candlelight gives the room a soft, calming atmosphere, and the fragrances of his perfumes, candles, and flowers mix together in an unearthly delight.
"Darling," He says, getting up from the bed. "You look stunning! We're going to have so much fun tonight!" He rushes over to you and pulls you into a hug. He rests his face in your neck and takes a deep breath.
As you wrap your arms around him, you too bury your face in him. His silky pajamas feel so soft against your skin, you're kind of jealous that he's wearing them and not you.
"Come on," He says, "First is skin care."
The two of you take off to the bathroom and wash your faces. He hands you a face mask and you put it on while you gossip about his brothers. After you finish with the mask, he gives you all kinds of new products to try: eye creams, moisturizers, serums. You name it, Asmo has it.
When you're finished with skin care, he whisks you off to the room and sits you in front of his vanity, handing you a drink. "Time to do our hair next!" He exclaims.
You sip on your drink as he sits behind you. He takes his brush and starts to run it through your hair. His voice is so soothing as he buries you in compliments, and as nice as it feels you're starting to feel sleepy.
"You're so beautiful darling," He says softly, nearly in a whisper. "Ugh, I would kill to have hair like yours. And your complexion is just perfect. You probably don't even need product to stay so beautiful. How do you do it? I could just eat you up. You look delicious. I wouldn't mind taking a finger or two so we could be even closer."
Wait, what did he just say? You think, but your eyelids are growing heavy, and you don't even have the strength to keep them open, let alone speak. Is he just so soothing? No, it seems different. You're slipping away, but you weren't even tired yet.
Your blood runs cold realizing that something is wrong. You can only listen to his ramblings as he continues to brush your hair.
"And maybe you could eat a part of me. We could both be so close. I want to be in your insides. I want to be a part of you. It's not enough, nothing's enough, we have to be closer, we need to be one, we need to be inside."
Then darkness.
~~~~
When you wake up, you find yourself in familiar settings. Familiar, but somehow off. It looks like Asmo's room, but everything's in a different spot. The furniture is different too. Similar, but not quite identical.
You're laying on the bed, and Asmo is playing on his phone as he sits in an armchair near the bed. You try to sit up, but you can barely move. Something's not right. I have to get away, you think.
"Ah, no moving," Asmodeus says. "You're still going to be a little weak."
"Where am I? What happened?" You ask.
"This is a special, secret room," He says. "It looks a lot like mine, right? It's soundproof, so don't bother screaming."
"Why am I here?" You ask. "Why did you take me here?"
"I didn't want my brothers getting ahold of you," He shrugs.
"Your brothers?" You ask. "What do they have to do with anything?"
"I've seen the way they look at you," He says. "I can tell that they want you. I just can't have that. I want you all to myself."
"You can have me!" You exclaim. "I like you Asmo. I like you a lot."
"I'll kill them for you," He says sweetly. "If you'd like. I'll kill my brothers for you. I’d kill them just to see you smile."
"No! That's not what I want at all!"
"I've killed for you before," He says. "People who look at you the wrong way in public. I don't want anyone to look at you like that ever again."
Your heart is pounding. Is it true? Has he really killed someone before? "You don't have to do that," You try to explain as calmly as possible; even so, your voice cracking as it comes out in frantic desperation. "We can be together. We can be together and you don't have to kill anymore!"
"I'm sorry," He says, "but I can't let anyone else have you. If they threaten to get in the way I'll do what I have to."
As your eyes adjust, you can see insane scrawlings written in lipstick all over the walls. “You will learn to love me,” One reads. “Don’t you trust me?” “You’re the only one, I have to have you.” “I will kill if it would just make you smile.”
He's insane. Has he always been this way? He was so good at hiding it.
This can't be happening, you think. It has to be a dream or something. But you know it's real. The soft, silky sheets beneath you, the soothing fragrances of the candles, the fearful pounding of your heart… you know this isn't a dream.
"Are you going to keep me here forever?" You ask.
Asmodeus smiles and says, "I don't know. I haven't thought that far yet."
"What do you want from me?"
"Love," He says. "Devotion."
"You have that!" You say.
"I need more." He begins to stand from his chair, looming tall over you. He appears as a dark silhouette, lit from behind by the dim candlelight.
"What are you doing?" You ask.
"I need you," He replies. He starts to giggle a little. "You don't know how bad I need you."
He begins to crawl onto the bed with you, his hair dangling cutely over you. "You want me too, right?" He asks.
You don't know how to respond. You thought you liked him, but did you even know him at all? Even as scary as he is right now, he's undeniably beautiful, and there's something about the way he needs and clings onto you that turns you on a little. For reasons you might not even be able to discern, you nod.
"I knew you would understand," He smiles.
He runs his hands over your arms and up to your wrists. He puts weight on them so that you can't move. You struggle a little, trying to pull free, but he's too strong, and you're still feeling weak.
He leans forward and meets your lips with his. You take a deep breath, pulling in his sweet scent. His lips are unbelievably plush, with silky, soft skin.
He slips his tongue tenderly between your parted lips. Unsurprisingly, he tastes sweet and irresistible. You can feel his breath hitching in manic excitement, almost as though he were nervous, but he seems so confident.
He pulls away and moans your name, saying, "You have no idea how badly I've wanted you."
He kisses you again before sitting up, and tugging on your top. You try to help him so he doesn't toss you around too much, but it's hard to sit up so he can pull it over your head.
He runs his face over your bare chest and lets out a shuddering sigh. "Oh you're more beautiful than I could have imagined," he says. He places a hand on your heart, and sets yours over his. "See? We're beating in unison. It was meant to be."
You gulp as he moves down to your legs and unbuttons your pants. You blush, turning away and shutting your eyes as he pulls them off. "No need to be shy, darling. You're everything I've ever wanted."
He leans back over you, stopping at your chest to feel your nipples. He envelops one with his mouth and twists the other with his hand. You let out a little whimper as his tongue flicks over your nipple repeatedly, flooding your system with a sweet tingling sensation.
He trades sides to the other, making sure neither nipple goes neglected. You can sense a growing impatience in him as his breath grows ragged and his movements get twitchy.
"Oh I need you now, darling," he moans. "I can't take it anymore." He kisses you again, holding one wrist as you hear the other messing with his pants. Before you know it, his cock is pressed up against you, rock hard and twitching.
"Are you ready, darling?" He asks. "I'm going to put it in"
You nod, blushing, as you feel his cock start to push into you. You shiver, feeling his length inside of you. This isn't how you expected things to go, but it still feels good. You can't deny how nice his cock feels inside of you.
"You feel amazing, darling," He moans in your ear as he sets his hands back on your wrists. You shudder, feeling his cock all the way inside you and you can't help but clench down on it as the base slides into you.
He starts to move, pulling out slowly, but thrusting back in fast. You gasp, arching your back slightly in pleasure. He starts to thrust faster in fluid sensual motions. He moves his body so elegantly, but with so much strength as well. He drives his cock into you with such a force that it pushes you back, nearly hitting your head on the headboard each time.
He’s moaning so sweetly as he feels your walls clamp down hard around his length. He can tell that you’re enjoying yourself by the way that you moan, and gyrate your hips to ensure that he gets as deep into you as he can. You’re moaning his name now with every thrust, your voice coming out more loudly than you anticipate.
Asmo’s voice is growing louder too, and with each thrust, it gets a little higher. “I’m going to cum,” he moans.
“Please Asmo,” You moan, “Give me your cum.”
He grinds his hips into you, making sure to get his cock as deep into you as possible. You gasp, shuddering as an orgasm washes over you. As you clamp down on him, his cock begins to throb inside of you, pumping you full of his sweet cum. You clasp his face between your hands, holding him in place as you feel the fullness of his cum.
When the convulsions subside, you let him go, and he slowly pulls out. The sensation of his cock sliding out of you as his cum begins to spill out of you sends more tingling pleasure through your body.
He collapses next to you in bed, and strokes your face gently with the back of his hand. Reality suddenly comes crashing back onto you as you remember that he’s kidnapped you, and is holding you against your will. Your heart rate starts to raise, before falling as you look over at his soft, adoring face. If it’s him, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…
#dubcon cw#yandere cw#obey me smut#obey me Asmodeus X Reader#obey me Asmodeus smut#Asmodeus smut#obey me#obey me shall we date#omswd#obey me x reader#om! Asmodeus#obey me Asmodeus#Asmodeus x reader#obey me nightbringer#obey me nb#obey me asmo smut#obey me asmo x reader#yandere male#kinktober
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cw // dubious consent
old comic of when elio first met blade and struck the deal with him. i made it when hsr first came out i think? hbBRFBJREF thought i should post it here before elio is revealed
#bottom!blade#hsr blade#hsr elio#elioblade#elio x blade#hsr#hsr related#honkai star rail#fan art#art#mine#my fan art#my art#HBJREFJEBJRHF#AS YOU CAN SEE#this is a very old comic#cause i just started out this format where the speech bubbles don't have those connecting lines wkwkkw#in my head elio is a bastard but i know hsr is gonna let me down#so for as long as i can#i want to view elio as the bastard he is JBHERBHFBJERJBFERHF#dubious consent#dubcon cw
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Imagine Dottore wanting to test a device on you. Nothing... outwardly sinister, and he insists he isn't even going to power it on- he's just testing the fit on different body types, you see.
But the thing is, he needs you lying on your stomach to finish fitting it, and you don't know what it is he's hooked up to the harness on your back but it's so heavy against your back it's making you lightheaded, you don't think you can get up, and the harness is so tight and constricting, it's really hard to move your arms, and-
Oh, Dottore seems to be distracted by something else now, his hands wandering to the hem of your shirt, to the waistband of your pants. These harnesses are meant to be worn during combat, you see, so he just needs to check that they're comfortable enough to wear (they're not. You're sure he did the straps so tight on purpose) during... strenuous activities.
Of course, when you protest, Dottore asks if you'd rather test it in actual combat. He doesn't mind! He's more than willing to patch you up, afterwards. He is a doctor, after all (you sincerely doubt he's ever been to medical school). Just don't expect him to go easy on you. He wants results.
But you remember the last time he giddily offered you an alternative when you objected his tests, and you decide to bite your tongue. He takes your silence as an answer and continues, and you focus on your breathing with the weight on your back.
#concepts#wow I haven't written a concept in forever#anyway#dubcon cw#implied nsft#dottore#yandere#genshin impact#il dottore/reader#dottore/reader#dottore x reader#il dottore x reader#yandere il dottore/reader#yandere dottore/reader#il dottore#genshin#yandere genshin#dead dove do not eat#my writing#man one of these days I'm gonna get sick of all these damn tags#yandere genshin impact#also he did the harness wrong on purpose so you can't have the help of your arms to get away <3#dottore(full of shit): hey help me test this. this isn't an excuse to grope you.#and don't even get me started on ''hey help me test this totally not dubious substance''#actually it'd be less of a ''hey help me do x'' and more ''sit still i'm going to test this on you''#bc no way in hell does he make it an option or ask nicely.#he'd also explain in depth the side effects and even how the chemicals react down to a cellular level i think ❤️#god imagine this loser gives you an aphrodisiac and starts listing long chemical names and talking about cellular respiration and shit
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Shifting
Under the hands of rogue WRU handlers - and her best friend - Angel falls apart.
Written with @wildfaewhump, and part of the very fun (for us) AU where rogue handles Fin and Piers make themselves at home in Angel's house to teach the runaways their place. Lourdes and Fin are their characters. This complements this piece from Lourdes' pov, written by Vic; the AU is kicked of by this and this piece.
Cw BBU, recapture scenario, (re)conditioning, dubcon, referenced past and implied future noncon, past beating, dissociation home invasion, pet whump. Whumper POV in the beginning (whumpee POV later).
"Alright, Piers. I’ll bite." His boss has been rummaging through Freckles' freezer. When he turns around to face Piers, there's a bag of frozen edamame in his hand, pressed firmly to his bloody chin.
Piers smirks. Fin looks like an idiot. Getting himself punched by that pet, as she was almost getting away - there’s not much more humiliating for a seasoned handler like him.
Fin grimaces. "Ten bucks says Freckles is just as much of a bitch when your Doe-eyes is done with her. She almost broke my skull with that fucking bolt cutter. She would've pulled through, if we hadn't fucked that dumb stubborn strength right out of her."
Shrugging, Piers reaches for his beer and takes a swig. "She looked hot doing it though. And you got all your punches in in return. Trust me. Her body is worn down. Some... softer persuasion now, and her mind will follow suit."
"Bitch was about to sacrifice herself for Doe-Eyes."
"And Doe-Eyes is about to sacrifice her to us." Piers grins, remembering the little talk with his own pet before. Oh, they were devoted. They wanted to be a good pet - and they wanted Freckles to be a good pet with an adorable, naive despair. As if it'd do any of them any good. "Who's suited better to wipe out all the idiot beliefs she clings to, than the sweet little pet she claims to love?" He points at the dossiers on the pets' training they've gotten from the WRU servers. "All she needs to be is hardwired in her stupid head already. Let Doe-Eyes push her buttons, and Freckles will be as good as a factory reset."
Fin clicks his tongue. "And just how are they going to do this?"
"Sharing a bath." Piers points upstairs. "Freckles is pretty much out of it, but Doe-Eyes is pulling all the stops. It's fucking hot. You might want to go watch, I'll hold the fort. My gift to you."
Fin scoffs. "It needs to be a lot more than a sexy bath to earn you those ten bucks. I want my pet sweet, stupid and docile; and if she ever gets her hands on a fucking bolt cutter again I want her dumb little brain to know that the only way she's going to use it is to fuck herself with it, while I watch."
"Mhhh." Piers just smiles, as he raises his beer. "Bet."
-
"Please," Angel whimpers in the bathtub, as Lourdes’ expert fingers wander between her legs. Her friend’s touch is soft on her torn body. Gentle. Loving.
Relentless.
They don’t hear her. They just go on. Kissing her. Touching her. Soothing, promising, arguing.
She’s loved them, she thinks. They’ve loved her, too, differently.
Do they, still?
Does she, still?
Does it matter?
"It doesn’t matter," Lourdes whispers, as their fingers circle her clit. "You can keep making it hard, and keep hating it, and it's still going to happen. Why not let it be good? You know it could be so good."
Angel lets her head sink back against the side of the bathtub. There’s a bath cushion mounted there, softening the edge. She’s bought it, for them both, after they moved in, when they established their tradition of bath day, entire evenings spend in the warm bathroom and each other’s company, talking, drinking, listening.
Bath days are over.
It was an interlude.
Lourdes’ lips are on hers, tender and unrelenting. Their fingers slip into her, just as their tongue slips into her mouth.
Why not let it be good?
It’s up to her.
She can make it good. She knows. She’s been made to be good. Just as they have.
She just has to let go. Of the past, of the pain, of the lie she’s lived. Let go of Angel Harris. Let go.
Just be good.
Angel lets go.
The pet kisses back.
She still kisses back, when the face in front of her is pulled away, pressed down, replaced by someone else, a man, a handler with a deep gash on his chin and a cruel smile. The pet - 238, Freckles, Angel, it doesn't really matter, as long as she's being good, as long as she's feeling good - doesn’t even flinch.
She's still good.
Good pets don't remember.
They don't, they shouldn't remember being in this very same room, being a person, being assaulted by that same man in their own bathroom. Good pets don’t remember the dread, the struggle, the resistance.
Good pets don't care about anything but their owner's pleasure. Good pets don't care about other pets. Good pets don't have friends, who they need to worry about, drowning or hurting or dying. Friends are for people. Pets only have owners.
Handler Fin is the centre of her world, and he's kissing her, he's making her feel good, and she's kissing him back, with desperate passion.
Her hips shift as she spreads her legs wider for the attention of the other pet, a tool in her owner's hand, she doesn't know how to worry. She knows how to fuck and to kiss and to be good.
The other pet, the one kept under water, the one she doesn't worry about, is keeping their mouth over her clit, gently sucking at it.
"Good girl" he whispers in her ear. "But Freckles may only come if she persuades me that she wants it. Tell me how badly Freckles needs this."
Underwater, the other pet twitches, the handler’s hand pressing keeps them down.
The pet kisses him like she's she one drowning, desperate, needy, letting the warmth in her lower body simmer, wait, hold back for him. "Sir," she whispers, voice husky, just as she's learned. "I... I want this, I need this, but... I need you more. I... My pleasure is yours, Sir, please, allow me be good, let me finish, please."
Let the pet finish, please, let them go, let me stop caring, please, let me be good.
His free hand rests on her throat, squeezes lightly, almost loving. "Freckles has forgotten that I and me are no longer terms for her," he says mildly. "Freckles is not being very good. Why should a bad pet be allowed any pleasure?"
Under the surface, a hand digs into her thigh painfully.
The pet closes her eyes. She doesn't care. Please.
That's what pets are for.
That’s what the one under the water is for. The one whose mouth has lost its former expertise, whose tongue is just twitching desperately. Who still sends ripples of pleasure through her body, because she's made for pleasure, for giving and receiving, always, whenever.
That's what she's for. Her. Freckles.
"Freckles," she breathes. "Freckles is sorry, Freckles' learned other words for herself in training. Freckles mind is slow, because she's so confused, she has to learn so much, but... But she... She'll be better, she... Freckles is yours, Sir."
"Yes, Freckles is slow," he says. He tilts her head back against the tub, pulls her body by the neck until her back arches. "But Freckles will learn eventually. She has the rest of her life to learn."
She feels him shove the other pet’s head firmly against her cunt. "Come, Freckles," he commands.
The sound of his voice almost tips her over the edge almost as much as the pet's mouth, desperately sucking at her clit.
Waves of pleasure wash over her, make her forget the ache lingering deep in her body, as she lets her back arch even further, gives him everything she has to offer.
She's his. She knows. She's always been.
Her owner hauls the other pet out of the water by their hair, choking and fighting for breath, but Freckles has only eyes for him, and the affection she sees in his eyes. She is still trembling in the afterglow of her orgasm, the smile on her face all perfect, natural instinct.
"Good girl, Freckles," he praises. "Freckles is beautiful when she comes for me."
There's blood on her owner's chin, still. He's been hurt, by someone who didn't understand. Her fr-, Lou-, the other pet, they had always known.
It's stupid to fight. Pets are meant to lose. Made to lose. But if they accept that, if they do lose in just the right way, if they do what pets do and they are pretty and desirable and fuckable, they can be rewarded still. And she wants to. She wants to be good and loved, and safe, she wants his hands on her like just now, not like - not like on the previous her. The before. The bad pet.
He reaches into the water, lifting her out with ease. It's a short shock, when he lets go of his hold. She finds footing, but the muscles in her legs aren't prepared, are too weak to hold her upright. Her legs give in, and she yelps, as she collapses on the tiles at his feet, almost forgotten aches flaring up again all over her, echoes of him, her resistance, his anger. "I'm sorry," she whispers, gaze cast down in instant submission, "Sir, Freckles is so sorry, she's... You've had to punish her, and she's still hurting, still learning. It’s her fault."
"It’s alright." He smiles and strokes her head. "Freckles can crawl, if she can't stand." The affection in his touch makes the pet feel warm, in a way she hasn't felt warm for a long time. She nods, grateful for his guidance. Pets should always be grateful.
"Yes, Sir."
She can crawl, she can be on her knees, or on all fours, like a good pet.
"Dry yourself first," he commands, settling himself on the side of the bathtub.
She smiles at him, as she gets on her knees and lifts the towel to dry herself, careful and sensual, making sure the movements of the towel emphasizes every part of her body. She knows he likes her breasts, she's seen him leer at them so often, and thus she starts there, working through the pain when the towel runs over welts and bruises.
She knows he likes her pain, too. She’s known before, she knows now, as he palms himself lazily through his pants, watching her.
By her side, she knows the other pet is drying themself as well. She doesn’t look over. She doesn't care about them, because it would only hurt them. Which doesn't make sense, because not wanting them to get hurt is caring, and she does not care. She bites her lips. It's okay to not understand. Pets are stupid. And she's nothing more than a pet.
"Let's go to your room," her owner orders. "Get you ready."
She tries to push herself up to her feet once again. Her legs still can't make it. And he's leaving, steps out on the corridor expecting her to follow. She lets herself sink down on all fours and crawls after him, fighting through the burning sting of the soft carpet on her chafed knees.
"Gonna find you something cute and fuckable to wear, sweetheart."
Sweetheart. The pet name soothes her pain, and she lets the warmth of her own affection for him wash over the strange feeling of wrongness. This is not his house, but she is his - and so it's natural for him to move around like he's a ruler, and for her to follow.
He stops in front of the bedrooms, as if waiting for her to show him which door to open, and she glances at the one he's looking for, crawls into the room when he opens it.
The bedroom is large, all oriented towards the big windows, decorated with soft colours and light wood. The pet remembers being happy about this room, about it catching the vibes of the sky on a spring day. A bouquet of fresh flowers stands on a desk in the corner, next to a computer and headphones and a half finished glass of water. The bed isn't made, the blue duvet crumpled next to a stripped off set of clothes. The person who lived here has just left to take a shower.
The pet knows she won't come back.
#bbu#pet whump#nsfwhump#lourdes the romantic#angel the romantic#handler piers scott#handler fin somers#noncon cw#dubcon cw#conditioning#bye angel#lourdes did it#shes gone
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there is a severe lack of steve on this blog so im here to plague the masses with my ghost. frat boy steve harrington n his insane corruption kink that he’s itching to let loose on the cute lil political science major who likes to challenge him in his sociology lecture 🥺
i’m…. ur evil.
enemies to lovers… except only you really consider him an enemy. he’d never tell you, but steve admires you. admires that you don’t take his shit or anyone else’s shit.
frat boy steve who really does try to be nice after the first few weeks of class he’s spent antagonizing you. he sets up the bait, and you take it. always. it’s fun. but then you start getting a little too hostile, a little too mean. you’re breaking his heart, baby.
so he reels himself in. talks to one of his closest buddies—you’ve seen them together a lot. he’s younger, got a head of curly hair and checks steve way harder than you do. needless to say, dustin sets him straight. steve’s not in elementary school anymore; being mean to the girl you like isn’t cool, it’s juvenile.
so really, steve does try to be kinder. he does. tries so hard it makes him nervous—but he’s come to find that when you smell blood, you dive for it. one stutter, one awkward pause, one fuck up of any kind, and you pounce. rip him apart with quick quips and slick-talking.
(all as payback for the last couple of weeks you’ve known him. which isn’t even accounting for the last few years you’ve known of him.
“my reputation proceeds itself, i see,” he tips his chin up.
“yes. steve harrington—resident drunkie,” you flash him a smile. “shouldn’t you be embarrassed?”)
but anywho, after he gathers himself—after dustin gathers him—steve has been giving you roses. he’s leaving you notes, offering to hold your two-ton book bag and walk you to class—something you, intelligently, never refuse. he’s been trying to atone.
and you don’t let him off the hook, ever, it seems.
“it’s like you’re determined to hate me.” he scoffs at you one day.
“you’ve given me nothing to like, baby!”
and that’s exactly how you end up with your wrists wrapped in steve’s hands, knelt between his thick, hairy thighs as he groans above you. hips flush to your nose as he fucks his thick, throbbing cock down your throat ‘til drool and precum bubble down your chin <3
he’s reached his boiling point with you—but can you blame him?
#he cleans u up n sends u off to ur last class of the day <3#promises to make it up to u since he’s been so mean <\3#steve h. <3#dubcon tw#dubcon cw#stranger things <3#stranger things smut#steve harrington smut
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The Boisterous Author plans to take their final leave of the palace. Things, of course, can never go that easy.
(Do read the tags on this one before reading)
Also On Ao3
Word count: 2.8K
Relationship: The Captivating Princess/Original FL Character
Rating: Mature
Tags: Consent issues, Forcefully Shoving Fingers Into Someones Mouth, The Princess Being The Princess, Minor References To The Gift, No Smut (feel the need to point that out with the rating lol)
Jamie had turned the office half upside down as they scrambled around the room, looking for the few items they couldn't bear to leave behind. The whole palace could damn itself to an even deeper hole in the ground, but Jamie would not be leaving without their favourite pen.
They had reached their limit, one thing after another, and had come to a final decision to take their leave of the palace. No title or renown was worth…whatever the hell all that was. Best not to think too hard on the details. They learned more than they ever wished to know about the royal family. They'd seen things they'd never wished to see.
On the few nights Jamie slept in their room in the palace, so gratefully lent to them, they were up half the night, knowing about what lurks below. The greater threat, however, came from their worry about the goals of one particular member, and how much Jamie had done to make an enemy. They shiver at the thought of the countless horrors they have witnessed all at the results of her schemes.
No, the more they stayed at the palace, the greater their risk was. They needed to get away. As far away as possible, actually. Perhaps more trips away from the city proper were in order. They had become particularly fond of trains.
By the time they find their pen, their mind has already started drafting a new novel idea of an outlawed monster hunter on the run, papers and books all mixed around. Somehow, they'd left it by the back of the bookshelf, cap left undone. Why on earth they put it there, they don't know, but they grab their beloved writing tool at last. Its well worn nib and incidental bite marks they’ve left behind a familiar and comforting sight. Jamie happily stuffed it back into their jacket pocket where it belonged. Now, at last, they could take their leave.
They tried to sort the room back into a somewhat organized manner, finding more things they sought to bring back to their real office. A few pages of once discarded notes, a book of their favourite poems, and a manner of ink all were put into their case. There was no way they could take their secondary typewriter without making the length of their departure obvious, so they begrudgingly set it aside.
They took one final scan around the room before they made their departure. They can’t say that they’d overly miss the location, but they had spent many nights working away at their writing here. That was, in a way, at least some form of connection. They give the room a final salute before they head to the door.
Of course it wouldn't be that easy. Why would they have ever assumed it would be.
A set of startlingly blue eyes meet theirs as soon as they open the door, and Jamie half jumps back in shock. Had she been waiting for them, listening in on their actions? No, surely it was just a coincidental matter of timing. They had not, however, heard any sort of knocking.
“Oh do tell me you aren’t going to just stand there staring. Though I of course can understand the urge.” The Captivating Princess stood in the doorway to Jamie’s office, raising an eye at their apparent staring. Jamie’s heart immediately starts beating faster, anxiety pulsing in their chest.
Deciding they were taking too long to respond, she brushes past them to enter the room fully. Her eyes scan around, taking a moment to look over the contents on their desk.
“Is everywhere you go subject to this kind of mess? I had thought the repellent state of your lodgings had been an outlier in the matter, but clearly I was mistaken.”
Jamie pushes themself out of their shock, closing the door behind them and doing their best to force their mind to clear. It was dangerous, entering the dance of conversation without any time to prepare.
“Ah, my apologies, your highness, I had not been expecting your presence.” Their hands fidget slightly as they speak, nervous energy running through them. “Why exactly are you here, if I might ask?”
The Princess looks at them as if they just said something particularly stupid. “You do remember you're in the palace, don’t you my dear? I can go wherever I please.”
“Of course, of course. But this is my office, where I work. Not a prime locale for socializing, and I do prefer my privacy in manners of creation.”
The Princess just laughs at them. “Oh how adorable. This space is only yours because it is permitted. Every room, every object, every worker here belongs to the palace.” She smiles. “By all accounts, you do too.”
Jamie bristles at the comment, truly tiring of all these entities in power who seem to think there was any right to lay claim on them.
“Well then, is there any reason you've come to this particular office of the palace, or may I get on with my afternoon plans?” They mentally remind themself over and over that they need to be polite, of the amount of danger they could be in if they toe out of line. It is a task they are always so dreadful at keeping to.
“I’m sure whatever dull ongoings you had planned can wait. I am having a direly dull day and am in desperate need of some sort of distraction.” She edges closer towards them. Jamie instinctually takes a step back. “Is that not what you're here for, to entertain?”
Irritation grows inside Jamie alongside their fear. They are an artist, the best of the best, and here this woman was, acting as if they were nothing but a toy to be tossed around. Before, Jamie would have respected her as someone worthy, due to her position and title. Now? Now they know better. What good is the opinion of a monster?
“My job,” Jamie emphasises their point with a gesture at themself,” is to compose for events and special occasions. If there is a particular function you have need of my talents for, do feel free to make an appointment. However, if you're still in need of a playmate at your age, I cannot assist you in that matter.” Really, half the time Jamie couldn't believe she was nearly 13 years older than them.
That clearly wasn't the right thing to say. In an instant The Princess' eyes narrow in anger, and Jamie does their best to avoid her direct gaze. They know how people get around her, they know how weak their mind can become.
Her voice has a dangerous edge when she speaks. “You should rethink your words. I came here for a solution to my boredom, do not make yourself useless to me.”
Jamie doesn't look at her as they speak, hands moving to point at the objects in the room. “Oh I see! And shall I use the lamp to set the stage lighting? The window curtains to create the scene? But of course, the desk could be a stage! It is a pathetic facsimile of a set piece, but naturally it would serve for such a repugnant audience, who has such little care for the actual depths of artistry.”
They shouldn't say that. Why did they say that? Yes, Jamie is well aware of their habits with snappy remarks, but they normally were able to hold back around her. Instead they found the words stumbling out, fear ignored in the long built up rage. Regret cuts deep through them the moment after their words spill out.
Jamie knows as their eyes meet hers that this was a fatal mistake. Certainly, it was a mistake to stand against her from the start. Why would they ever stand against someone so graceful and elegant; how could they speak such falsehoods against such beauty.
Jamie's thoughts are slippery and poisonous as they grapple with them, trying to stand their ground.
The Princess has an outraged sneer from their words, her voice vicious and dangerous as she speaks.
“Sit down.”
Jamie grits their teeth. “No, I-”
“I said. Sit.” They're moving before they can fully process the command, falling back into one of their own office chairs. The spot seems far less comfortable than it was on the nights they had accidentally fallen asleep here.
The Princess follows their movement, looming over where they sit with a frightening expression. Jamie swallows an ever growing lump in their throat as their pulse rushes in their ears. Their hands grip the edge of the chair to try and keep from shaking.
The Princess is seething as she grips their chin, Jamie almost feeling the scratch of sharp nails through her gloved hand.
“How dare you speak to me that way. You are nothing but an ignorant little pest who should cower beneath my feet, thanking me for even gracing you with my presence.” If Jamie wasn't so caught up in their fear and rage, they would notice the glint of intent behind the anger in her eyes. “You need to hold your tongue.”
Jamie lets out a small humorless laugh. It wasn't the first time they've heard such a sentiment, and it wouldn't be the last. “By the very nature of the job, my profession dictates my use of words, your highness, or have you already forgotten that? Maybe if you-”
What remains of that sentence will never be spoken, as Jamie's eyes widen at their words suddenly being cut off.
The Princess had moved her other hand to jab her fingers into their open mouth, pressing down forcefully on their tongue to keep them from finishing. Jamie's hands instinctively reach to scramble at her arm to pull away the intrusion, but all that does is make her push harder. Saliva pools at the edges of Jamie's mouth as they choke around the insistent pressure.
The Princess sighs at their reaction, looking the image of transcendent boredom, despite her actions and the glittering intent in her eyes saying otherwise. Her rage, it seemed, had died down, replaced with burgeoning entertainment as Jamie swallows heavily around the intruding fingers.
“Of course, you have such pretty words, and yet I'm met with nothing but slander.” Her lips form a mockery of a pout. “What a waste. No, I know you can do better than that for me.”
Jamie mumbles what would be intended as an argument or a defense, but nothing can come out with their mouth otherwise occupied. Their disjointed noises seem to only further serve The Princess’ amusement.
“Oh, has the little songbird lost their words?” The statement is met with a pinch against their tongue. Jamie whimpers at the pain. “What a shame.”
Gloved fingers move to stroke delicately over their teeth, tracing over each as if examining them, hand mapping every inch of their mouth. The soft fabric brushes against Jamies tongue as they move, not altogether an unpleasant feeling. The urge to bite is strong, but even they are not foolish enough to attempt such a move. Jamie is in enough trouble already, fully at her mercy.
They know how strong those hands could be.
Jamie's thankful they don't have too much of a gag reflex as the back molars are touched, hand stretching further into their mouth. Jamie can only fathom at the image they must make, as tears threaten to edge at their eyes from the pressure, face quickly becoming very flushed.
It's easier, they decide, to just sit and let her take whatever strange entertainment this seems to be for her.
Her other hand comes up to stroke their hair, and Jamie shudders at the memory of the first time she did so, freed only by the mercy her sister seemed to possess. Jamie didn't even have the option to talk their way out now, their only line of defense taken.
Despite the tension, the fear, and the adrenaline, Jamie can't help but relax at the soothing movement, their head leaning into her hand. The actual format of the situation couldn't change the fact that they craved attention, that it felt good, to have such focus on them and them alone. And what focus it was! Truly, they did not deserve her attention.
The hand in their hair tightens with a sudden sharp tug as Jamie is made to look up at her, half choked with the angle. They can't tell if their struggled breath is from the position or their racing heart.
The Princess coos at them, her voice a patronizing tone as her hand twists russet locks further, tears pricking at the edges of Jamie's eyes. Still, they meet her gaze, and follow the direction she pulls them.
“How delightful. I knew you could be good, if you only bothered to try.” Her grip relaxes again, and Jamie sinks in relief. “Little songbirds shouldn't say such nasty things - you should be so grateful you have me to help.”
Of course she's right, how could they have spoken so harshly. How kind of her, of such beauty and grace, to take them in hand. How generous to show them the wrong of their ways.
They don't know how long they stay like that, their hands still loosely griped on The Princess’ wrist as she pokes and prods, seemingly fascinated by the responses she can receive. They're not sure the passage of time even matters anymore.
At last, The Princess seems to feel that she has made her point, or at least has finally gotten bored. Jamie barely breathes out a sigh of relief as her fingers leave their mouth, not daring to make a sound and have her change her mind about releasing them.
Jamie looks up at her through half lidded eyes, mouth still open where a trail of saliva connects to her fingers. Their jaw aches.
She makes a half disgusted face at her glove, moving to wipe her hand off on Jamies suit jacket, before cupping their chin once more. The Princess’ eyes sweep over them with a pointed interest, a sharp jolt of fear washing through Jamie despite the flush of their face.
Her smile is still so radiant.
“Have you learned your lesson now little bird?” Her voice is delicate, like a chime, and all of Jamie's senses scream predator. There's nothing they can do but gently nod their head.
“Is that so? See, I don't think you have. I think that once I leave, you'll go right back to your insufferable little habits, and we'll be back to square one, now won't we?” Her hand lands back to twist in their hair.
It's an audacious concept, really. Jamie hasn't been changed by anything yet, of course they haven't now, no matter how highly The Princess holds herself.
Jamie is expecting her to tug again, but to their surprise, her hand moves to push their hair out of their face, back behind their ear. She follows down to cup their cheek, thumb stroking slightly. “Unfortunately for you, I have more important things to do today then spend it all on you.” Her hands begin to draw away. “We will deal with this behaviour another time.”
Jamie is barely processing the implication of that before she's fully stepping back, and Jamie has to startle to hold themself back up on the chair. They barely manage to look up as The Princess finally stalks out of the room, as if she hadn't just shoved her hand halfway to Jamies throat, as if she'd just come in for some casual conversation.
The second she's out of the room, whatever spell that had fallen over Jamie immediately drops. Exhaustion sinks into their bones, their jaw and tongue ache, and most of all their mind runs over what the fuck just happened.
They spend a few minutes leaning back in their chair, trying to keep their breathing calm, trying not to think too hard on what level of danger they've gotten themself in. Their clothes have become exceedingly uncomfortable, and they were in desperate need of a drink. They shift in their seat and grimace, moving to wipe their mouth. A bath was in order too.
Soon, they'll manage to push themself up from where they're sitting, and scramble together what remains of their exit plan. They'll take their final leave of the palace, with intent to never return to their writing work here, as much as that could be managed. They'll do their best not to think about the encounter, though it will continue to replay in their mind for many days.
Most of all they'll try to ignore the imprinted image of red eyes that will surely come to haunt their nightmares, both dreading and wondering what ‘later’ would entail.
#hands in mouth friday wednesday#uh. welcome to my twisted mind#heh#dubcon cw#like. really edging past the dub on this one#the captivating princess#oc: jamie#my writing
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sloppy seconds | s. getou + s. gojo
✮ tags ; afab +fem!reader, weird relationship dynamics, polyamory if you squint, mild obsession, overstimulation + unprotected sex, wet and messy, dubcon (gojo references passing out on readers end but its all consensual) 18+
✮ wc ; 2.3k
✮ a/n ; nonsensensically horny about this idk
Suguru doesn’t mind sharing. Not with Satoru.
Never with Satoru.
It’s easy to mistake that willingness for benevolence, and for a lesser sorcerer - fear. But it’s neither, nothing so complex. Nothing worth philosophizing over, something Suguru loves to do. Suguru just doesn’t mind sharing with Satoru for anything.
If he has to explain himself - it’s like this. Satoru is an extension of Suguru himself. A part of him, ingrained in him, grown into him. Not like ivy vines, but a flower pushing through concrete, a stubborn spectacle of Suguru’s gray matter. Satoru is the bluebell that refuses to be plucked, to die, to be anything but involved.
That and Satoru is not good at not coveting all things Suguru owns. He’s even worse at try to pretend he doesn’t want them. It's pitiful and frequent enough to make Suguru wince every time. A boy born into God doesn’t know how to play fair, even when his best efforts are made to do so.
When Satoru longs for something, his whole body has to whine for it. His eyes will flutter and he’ll slow himself down like a sloth, laugh less. When he really, really tries - he almost becomes a shell of himself. A shell of a shell, a masquerading puppet.
He’s not equipped for it. Suguru finds the whole display pathetic.
Well, Suguru likes appeasing him, too. That’s part of it. He’s not so dishonest that he can’t recognize that he enjoys seeing the way Satoru breaks the things Suguru gives him. There’s a novelty in that display, like a child crying for a toy and playing too rough. Suguru fixes them, sees if Satoru learns from his mistakes and he never does. Satoru likes things that are shiny, things he can’t have. Discards them and loses interest when it’s already his.
Suguru never gives Satoru something unless he’s certain he doesn’t mind it being broken, or being used, or being a little messy. If there is any apprehension, Suguru won’t do it. Won’t let Satoru cry his way into it either.
He also likes the chase. Satoru does. Like an overgrown dog. Likes begging and pleading, making a big show. He can be manipulative too, if it’s something that has to be taken, but he’ll heel if Suguru puts his foot down.
Most of all, Suguru enjoys cleaning up after Satoru’s messes. It makes him feel important. There’s always an undercurrent of amusement and warmth when Suguru picks up after Satoru. The strongest is uncharacteristically sloppy, and doesn’t know how to indulge in things without getting sick of them instantly.
Their relationship is like this - Suguru is the hand that feeds, and Satoru is the thing that bites. Suguru sighs and clicks his teeth, but the scars in his fingers and all the bite marks prove that he doesn’t really care about Satoru learning his lesson. He just likes to feed, likes to watch Satoru eat off his hand for a while before Satoru gives up on being good and uses his mouth to devour. Suguru watches this happen idly, lets the whole thing roll off of his sleeve and laughs. Because that’s just Satoru, after all.
For all reasons above and then some, Satoru's interest in you doesn't shock him at all.
Suguru loves you. Maybe in some twisted way, but it’s love. You’re rather obstinate. He suspects he might have a type, but he likes you so much for it. When Suguru pushes your buttons - you’re not the kind to sit back and take it. And for how much Suguru gets on your nerves, Satoru gets on yours worse. Between them, only Suguru only saw the best in you. Satoru didn't understand that part of you is what makes you so special. Only you could refuse him so often and keep Suguru wrapped around your fingers, unable to ignore you or keep his hands off of you.
(He’s a good enough man to you just to make you melt since he knows if you really got mad you'd leave. He knows how to smile and sorry until you lay in his arms and hit him soft because you claim to still be mad.)
The decision to share you is one Suguru makes lightly. It’s featherlight and simple. Satoru will indefinitely break you in some way. Will rip at you like the ill-mannered man he is. Suguru will bask in it like he always does. Satoru is only so keen on having you because Suguru so utterly adores you. Of course he knows that. But curiosity always wins Suguru over. He couldn't help but want to know what exactly Satoru will do with you once he had you.
It surprises him after, but Satoru doesn’t lose interest in you as fast as Suguru expects. Or at all. Maybe he should’ve predicted that, since he knows best you’re not so easy to break.
But Satoru tries. God, does he try to just do that.
Suguru glances back towards Satoru. He has a lot more energy than him. Enough to fuck you utterly dumbstruck
He watches on as he does it now, with the same mild fondness. Something stirs seeing you like that of course, but it’s not so distracting he can’t do other things.
Satoru has you in his bed with your legs pinned up against your ears. Impatience makes an interesting image of Satoru. His sweatpants are pulled over the meat of his thigh, covered in cum and sweat since he refuses to take them off. His shirt is still on in much the same condition, though the black fabric masks some of it. Still it sticks unmistakably to his abdomen, clings tight to the lines of his abs.
Satoru himself seems keen on making himself sick on you. His hands are folded underneath your knees with his face against yours - warm, wet and sloppy kisses making the entire room sound sticky. The air of his apartment is so thick with lust, Suguru’s sure he could slash through it with a knife and still not make it to fresh air.
Suguru is a little used to it. So he’s horny, but he’s not there yet. He approaches the bed with a smooth and familiar demeanor, the mattress dipping underneath his weight as he sits next to you. Your eyes are tear stained and wet as you blink, sensing his presence even amidst your delirium.
You try to reach your hand out for him but Satoru is quick to shut it down. Suguru tsks.
“Don’t get greedy,” Suguru reprimands, and Satoru only shoots him a frown. His focus in fucking you open doesn’t cease for even a minute. “Missed me did you?”
Your mouth forms around his name. It tries, but the words are muffled by Satoru’s own lips again. Suguru laughs a little louder this time, but doesn’t stop Satoru in any way. When he pulls away from you, your eyes are glazed over. Mouth open, tongue sticking out and covered in spit. Bitten to hell and pink with someone else's saliva. Suguru reaches towards your face and wipes your mouth, his back facing Satoru. You whine, letting your face curl against his hand. Desperate, so desperate for him despite being fucked out of your mind.
“So greedy,” Suguru teases, because you are - because he’s made you that way so perfectly in his image. “Satoru isn’t doing a good job?”
Satoru grumbles with possession he’s hardly earned, but again - this is of no concern to him. He watches Satoru ratchet his hips a little more, watches him fuck you on his cock even deeper than before. Your eyes roll back and your jaw goes slack, and from this angle - Suguru can see the way all the loads his best friend has pumped in you have gathered at the base of his cock. A thick, creamy ring of white making your pussy deliciously sloppy. Your cum drips down your sex, paints your ass white as he keeps fucking him into you with all that stamina.
That’s what gets him, he finds. All that energy, all that mess. Suguru feels a shiver roll through him as Satoru fucks his loads into you deeper. He’s longer where Suguru is thicker so Suguru imagines how far that really goes. How hot it must be inside of you, fucked so ruthlessly you’ve gone completely stupid in bliss. Satoru can fuck like an animal just like he eats like one, and god don’t you look so pretty being ripped apart in front of him.
Satoru bottoms out and stays there this last thrust, so hard the bed shakes. His thighs stick to yours as he grinds his hips up, pulsing against your gspot - reaching right into your womb. You moan brokenly, whimper as you get fucked. Suguru knows it now - that it means Satoru is about to cum in your greedy little cunt for umpenteenth time unconcerned with the consequences.
Satoru shivers, riding out his high as he pumps whatever he has left into you before he pulls away. Thick strings of arousal keep you two together before Satoru inevitably manages to get off of you. He sits on the back of his legs, admiring his work - his hands going to smack your puffy cunt - pleased and finally relieved. You yelp, completely worn out.
“You didn’t pass out this time,” He says, pleased and completely different than he was before “Good girl.”
You let out a pained whine, and Suguru coos.
Satoru gets off the bed and looks for a water bottle to drink, peeling his shirt off when he finds it and rehydrating himself. He has the courtesy to come back and let you have some when he returns. You swallow it as best you can when you’re laying down and drinking it from his lips.
“You gonna have your way with her now, Suguru? How cruel.” Satoru says.
Suguru ignores him. “Go wash up and order dinner.”
Satoru hums noncommittally and disappears, leaving you alone together. When Suguru replaces Satoru’s weight in the bed - your reaction is immediate. You close your legs, but Suguru forces them back apart as he gets a good look at your sore, abused cunt.
Satoru can be so brutal when he wants to, but thats what he likes most to see. You’re in a sorry state. He uses nimble fingers to open you up - looking with a wicked grin as your cunt opens up for him. Nearly gapes from how stretched it is, how much Satoru has fucked you. You’re still soft and sticky inside, your clit hard and swollen. Full to the brim with Satorus seed, heady with his scent.
He tsks at Satoru’s unprofessionalism, wonders if he’s been as dexterous as he should’ve been.
The questions answered when Suguru touches your pussy and you pull away - skittish and helpless as he pinches the hard bundle of nerves. He whistles at how easily you’re stimulated, and then groans at the way Satoru’s cum starts to drip out of your hole. He uses his pointer finger to collect it back up - pushing it back where he wants it. You cry out - for Suguru mostly.
Suguru hums delicately as he picks up after Satoru’s mess.
He unclothes you properly first. Takes off your shirt and dirty shorts before he undresses himself. You like skin to skin, so his shirt comes off as his pants lay low on his hips. When he’s like that, you reach your arms around his neck like you know what’s coming. Suguru chuckles at how instinctual it is, lets you reach out for him - your sticky body adhering to his skin.
“Messy little pussy. Going to let me fuck you some more? Fuck another load into you, huh beautiful?”
You nod stupidly. He kisses the side of your head. Of course you will.
It never fails to send pure electricity up Suguru’s spine when he fucks you like this. Never fails to make him so hard he’s lightheaded, feeling how soft and wet and sloppy you are. Your cunt doesn’t resist him in the slightest. He slides his thick, heavy cock right into your pussy with unbelievable ease and feels everything. Feels your walls pulse with tremors of orgasms, overstimulation making you dizzy with need.
Suguru groans. You feel incredible like this. Feel perfect, so stretched open, so delirious, full of his best friends cum. He’s never felt a single thing so euphoric as this.
He ducks his head down to give you the proper care. The best part of all of it for him. His mouth latches on your tender tits and his hand goes between your bodies - thumb circling your clit as he bottoms out easily into your pussy and stays there.
It’d be a waste to fuck you hard, everything dripping out where Satoru has worked so hard to fill. Suguru opts instead to lay you out on your spine and grind into you. Your legs weakly wrap around his waist as the head of his cock bullies your gspot, pushing into you and rubbing against the sensitive spongy area. Silky walls soggy as they cling to him while you cry out again.
With Satoru, you mostly keep to yourself. Bratty and firm. But with him, you’re so needy. You whimper his name and beg for his attention and ask for something you aren’t sure of because you trust Suguru so completely. You forget your obstinance as you beg him for a proper orgasm, not one that happened to get rung out of you because Satoru can’t help himself.
Suguru can never last long like this, but he lasts long enough to fulfill your wishes. He relishes in the weakened pulses of your pussy, spasming around him for the last time. Your nails dig into his biceps, as he hums against your tits and lets you ride out your continued high.
Only once it’s over does he let himself cum. Buries himself as deep as he can go and gives you his own load, grunting into the crook of your neck as he shakes - his abs tightening before going soft inside of you. Thick white ropes of cum filling you even deeper. Sloppy fucking pussy for his pretty. perfect girl.
“Suguru,” You whine, your hands gripping onto him for life - usual personality evaporated to mush. “Suguru I love you,”
He laughs to himself. See? No issues. Suguru always knows how to put you back together.
“I love you too, baby.”
#getou x reader#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#writing tag#dubcon cw#idk if i like this i just wanted to get it out
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Just Chatting
Characters: Uzui Tengen x streamer!reader
Contains: NSFW (MDNI), modern au, fem!reader, streamer!reader, reader is a bad girlfriend , angst, dubcon, sad + angry tengen, jealous + possessive tengen, overstimulation, slight exhibitionism, dirty talking, sex instead of talking through issues like adults 😕
Synopsis: Since becoming a full time streamer you've barely had time for your boyfriend. He decides that enough is enough.
Word Count: 1.2k
Tagging: @novaresque @awaruna2 @lighturqoi @bigtiddyvampirelover @mindlesschicca
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a/n: Started this 3 months ago but only just had the motivation to finish it. I never thought I’d be writing angst but here I am. Reader is a bit of a shit person, This literally hurt my own heart writing it but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. Enjoy?
Tengen's thoughts are in italics
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“Baby come and watch this movie with meee!” Tengen whined.
“Mm soon just one last round, promise.” You replied distractedly, eyes glued to the screen and fingers tapping at your mouse and keyboard.
Tengen hated it.
He wanted to be a supportive boyfriend, he really did, but the insecurity in him flared up every time you seemed to be having so much fun online with these strangers instead of him.
It only got worse when you became a full-time streamer. Every day you'd play or chat with your viewers for hours on end, often leaving your boyfriend eating dinner alone in the dining room of your shared apartment.
Tengen took a deep breath as he waited for the microwave to finish heating up the leftover curry.
It’s ok, I'll finally get to spend some quality time with her next week. I've booked the most romantic anniversary dinner after all!
—
Tengen buttoned up his freshly ironed shirt and put on his fitted dress pants. He turned around in the mirror and grinned.
Damn I look good~
He was brimming with excitement, practically skipping down the hall to your room.
"Ready to go sweetheart?" His head poked through your doorframe, but the giddiness in his expression quickly soured at the sight of you hunched over your work desk.
“Oh Ten you know my 10k celebration stream is tonight right? I told you ages ago.” You didn't even look up from your screen as you continued to set up the mic.
“B-but... What about dinner?”
He sounded like a hurt puppy.
“Sorry baby we’re gonna have to reschedule.”
"It's our 1 year anniversary!"
“You know how it is, don’t want to disappoint my fans!”
Your fans? What about me?
His eyes drifted to your outfit, clenching his jaw when he saw the way your tits were practically spilling out of the strappy top. He could never understand why you had to wear things like that for your 'fans'.
“It’s normal for streamers, plus it's good for the donations.”
“Do they know you have a boyfriend?” He emphasised the last word as if to remind you.
"...It's better to let them think I'm single. It's just part of the job."
Tengen was seething. He leaned against the door frame of your studio room, watching you chat to your audience and thanking them for their donations.
“Hey lovelies! I’m so excited for my 10k anniversary stream today ♡ Thank you guys for always being there for me and I can’t wait to answer all your questions in the special Q&A!” You beamed at your screen, giving your audience your sweetest smile.
"Y/N."
His voice was cold, barely able to contain his anger when you continued to ignore him.
"Y/N."
“Hm? Oh don't worry guys that was just my brother!” You said sweetly. "Thank you to everyone who submitted questions, let's get started ♡ ”
Let’s see how your fans react to this.
You flinched when you felt large hands push your thighs apart, glancing down to see Tengen under your desk and between your legs. He sucked and bit at the soft skin, but you pushed his head away, silently gesturing to him you were live. He paid you no heed, instead ducking under your skirt to press his tongue against your panties. After thoroughly wetting the fabric he pushed them aside to dive right into your folds, two fingers pressing harsh circles against your clit, making you squirm.
"O-ok first question: Sirsnakealot asks: 'What's your type?' "
"Ah I'd say, someone who's dependable, has his own job. And it'd be a bonus if he's handsome ofc <3 hehe."
You forced a smile as you tried your hardest to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. Your flushed expression was not missed by your attentive viewers.
mitsuluvss555: does she have a fever?
ynsimppp: y/n-chan go get some water <33
“I’m fine! I think I ahh~ just had too many energy drinks before the stream...!”
You had to pretend to take a sip of water off screen as you collapsed against the desk. You flipped up your skirt to meet the fiery gaze of your boyfriend, who was now suckling on your clit and playing with your quickly dampening folds.
"S-stop it Ten...! We can...hah..do this la...ah...later." You reprimanded in a hushed tone.
He looked up at you defiantly, responding by pushing two of his long fingers inside your now soaked cunt, curling them in that way that made you keen.
Your vision was getting blurry, but you bit your lip and hid it with a smile.
"N-next question! ItsMeDiooo with the $69 donation asks: "Y/n-chan are you single?"
You feel Tengen growl against your cunt, his fingers pumping faster inside you as his teeth sank into your clit.
"aha t-these questions are so personal today...I've told you guys before, I'm just too busy for a relationship at the moment. Thank you for the donation though, I appreciate your support!"
Tengen was being purposefully noisy, hoping your mic would catch the sloppy sounds he was making between your legs.
"Next question!"
How the fuck are you still ignoring me?
Suddenly you were roughly pulled off your chair. You fell onto the carpet as your boyfriend quickly hovered over you.
yandereyorchan: what happened???
mitsuluvs555: y/n chan are you okay? ><
bigdaddyguro: I didn't pay for this what the hell
“Ten what the fuck? I need to get back to my stream-"
His firm grip on your waist held you in place, as you struggled to get back up. His hot mouth trailed up your neck and left sloppy kisses on your exposed skin.
“I planned such a nice evening for us baby.” Tengen growled against your ear.
“I got all dressed up for you, and you would rather talk to these strangers?” His voice was icy yet calm, making you shiver.
He bit down harshly at your neck, leaving hickies in all the places you said he wasn't allowed to. Pleads of 'no not there ten!" and "baby, stop it!" were muffled by open-mouthed kisses against your lips.
“I’m your boyfriend aren’t I? Let me act like it then.”
He pressed the blunt tip of his cock against your slick folds, making your eyes widen.
“Ten stop it the stream is still on!” You whispered in a panicked tone.
“Are you scared they’ll hear you?” Tengen smirked. "I bet they'd love to listen in, would probably jerk off wishing they were inside this tight pussy."
He groaned when he pushed all the way in ‘till he bottomed out. Both of you panted harshly as he fucked you right there on the carpet. Your breathy moans sounded so pretty to him, the way you mewled and whined under him almost made Tengen forget he was angry at you. Almost.
Just when you were about to cum, his hips stopped altogether. You whimpered in protest as you met your boyfriend's dark gaze.
"W-why'd you stop?"
"Tell me baby, who's the one giving you this dick?"
"Y-you."
"Who does this little pussy belong to?"
"Y-you, Tengen...!"
"Damn right."
He resumed his intense pace with a groan. Soon your walls were spasming around him, tightening with one last whimper as he pumped you full of his milky seed. Tengen couldn't help the smirk on his face as he watched his cum slowly slip out of you.
"Get up baby, we have dinner to get to."
#i wrote this for tenten but#can see this with atsumu or bokuto too#modern au#tengen uzui#tengen smut#uzui smut#tengen x reader#uzui x reader#tengen x you#tengen x y/n#uzui x you#dubcon cw#cw dubcon#uzui x y/n#kny#demon slayer smut#tw dubcon#dubcon tw#one shot#jealousy#streamer#kny smut#angst#tengen uzui x you#atsumu miya#bokuto#atsumu x you#fem reader
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😵💫😵💫 fucking kurt against the wall somewhere public but he wont shut tf up . uhm uhm bonus points for eating him out after reader finishes until he c*mes 😖 p.s i love ur stuff sm
Omg aaaa thank you you're very sweet! Sorry this took a squillion years I never got round to it and once I did it ended up nearly 1000 words longer than I had planned hahaha oops! Hope you enjoy!!
Please read the tags on this one friends!
1557 words
18+ only
Smut
Kurt Kunkle x Gender Neutral Reader
Tags: dom/sub; dom!reader; sub!kurt; dub!con; threat; murder reference; implication of violence; knifeplay; public sex; anonymous sex; unsafe sex; oral sex; rimming; danger of getting caught; spanking
The car rocks as it comes to a harsh stop. Kurt's knuckles are white against the steering wheel, he's hunched over it, his body totally still. You're sitting in the back watching over his shoulder. For the first time tonight you're starting to feel the nerves fluttering in your stomach, a tiny voice inside you wonders if this might have been a bad idea. But it's too late for that now. Kurt's door opens suddenly and he climbs out, running round the outside of the car to your passenger door. He tugs it open roughly and stares in at you.
"Get out." He instructs.
The slight wobble in his voice as he nervously looks around reminds you why you're here. You do as he says, giving a quick wink to one of the cameras as you duck your head out. Kurt is standing by the car, eyes still darting around in case any one lurking along the back road he's stopped on. You get the sense doesn't know this part of the city as well as he thinks. A block of apartments backs onto the street right where he's parked, and a little way up the road a flimsy wooden fence separates the alley from a beer garden, even from where you're standing you can hear the music in the distance, but Kurt doesn't seem to take it in. Maybe he's just getting sloppy.
Kurt gets you to stand with your back up against the wall of the apartment block. He slips something out of his pocket and holds it behind his back, then fumbles trying to get his phone out and unlock in his other hand. Holding it up in front of his face he grins into the camera,
"Hey guys, fourth ride of the night, but we're only just getting started so don't forget to share this, hashtag the lesson."
He looks up at you, a wild smile on his face. He pulls his hand out from behind his back, revealing the switchblade that's squeezed tightly in his fist.
"Oh, this one's gonna be good." He says, laughing brightly as he does so.
He takes a step towards you, you spot a slight flash of uncertainty on his face as you stand, unphased, staring steadily back at him.
"A knife? Really? I'd expected something a little more creative." You say, cocking your head slightly.
Kurt stops in his tracks.
"I- wha-?"
"It's just not very on brand, that's all. And I'd have thought that a cohesive brand would be a key part of the lesson."
"H- how do you-?"
"And this location, bit risky for this early in the night isn't it? I mean you can literally hear the people outside that bar talking from here. Maybe start risk taking a little later on, sure, but you've got to work up to it right?"
Kurt stands in stunned silence, his eyes flash down at his phone for a second before he locks the screen and shoves it back in his pocket. His face crumples into a scowl as he looks back up at you.
"Well I'm- I'm still going to- Hey!" He cries as you snatch the knife from his hand.
You're a little surprised how easy it is to get it away from him, he barely even struggles against you when you grab his wrist. You're taken aback somewhat by how excited that makes you. Kurt whines, grabbing for the knife. You lean back, holding it high above your head so that he can't reach it. His chest presses against yours as he tries to reach up the length of your arm to grab it. You can feel is cock pressing hard against his jeans as he unintentionally grinds against your thigh.
"Oh my god." You say with a wide grin. "You like this, don't you?"
Kurt pulls away from you immediately, his face flushing a deep red colour.
"No!" He protests, unconvincingly.
"Well, you can have this back then."
Kurt stares at you, cheeks still burning, as you fold the knife over and hold it out for him to take from you. His eyes flash back and forth between your face and the knife in your hand.
Kurt's back is pressed up against the cold stone wall. He moans as your hand pumps steadily over his dick. You go to slip the knife into your pocket but you feel Kurt's hand softly wrap around your wrist. You raise an eyebrow at him and push the button on the handle, flicking out the blade. You hold it against his throat, pressing just enough to let him feel the pressure of the blade. Kurt whines and you feel his cock kick in your hand. His groans are so loud you're fairly certain they'll be audible in the flats a few stories above you. How he thought this would be a good place for a murder is beyond you. He cries out again as you carefully press the knife a little harder, turning the blade a little so it's almost flat against his skin.
"God, you're even more of a little slut than I thought you'd be." You hiss, earning another loud whine. "You want me to make you cum?"
Kurt nods frantically.
"Well then." You slide the blade upwards, holding it so its pressed just under his jawline. "You'd better get on your knees and earn it."
The palms of your hands push forward into the stone wall. Kurt is kneeling between your feet and the wall, his hands resting gently on the back of your thighs. It feels like only moments ago you were standing in the car park of the supermarket, ordering and cancelling spree after spree until you saw his name pop up. The events since then had all seemed to blur into one, it feels as though you're in a dream. The memories of how you got here swirl and melt away in your head as the intense feeling of Kurt's tongue against your skin makes your head swim. You'd thought about this a lot before you came out. A lot. But even then, you really hadn't expected him to be so good with his mouth. His movements are careful, steady, and confident. Its a little hard to believe that the same man, who mere minutes ago was desperately grabbing at you to get back the knife you had snatched from him, was now making your thighs tremble with nothing but his mouth. You grunt heavily, trying your best to keep quiet. You're certainly better at staying quiet than Kurt was, but he's not making it easy. Kurt's tongue moves suddenly in a way you couldn't even describe, all you know is it makes your whole body twitch. Your hips buck into his face and a noisy groan slips out from between your gritted teeth. Feeling your reaction, Kurt does it again, and almost without warning you cum. Its so sudden it overwhelms you a little, your whole body shaking as you twitch under Kurt's lips. Your head drops, wiped out by the force of your orgasm, and you stare down at him. Kurt beams up at you, mouth glistening, obviously pleased with his work.
"Now that's just not fair." You pant, voice still wobbling slightly. "I didn't even gey close to that tight little hole of yours."
Kurt's voice echoes off the walls of the alleyway as your tongue rolls inside him. You firmly smack his ass in the vein hope he'll get the message to shut up, but it has the opposite effect. Kurt howls, his thighs trembling as your tongue dips into his hole again. As much as you know Kurt can't afford to get caught (the lesson getting cut short by an indecent exposure charge would be more than you could bear), but you can't help yourself. His moans are loud, sure, but it's so fucking hot. You spank him again, harder this time, earning a whimpered plea for more. You let the movements of your tongue get messy, lapping hungrily at his hole and savouring the sound of his moans. Kurt's whole body is twitching, every muscle convulsing uncontrollably as your tongue works over him. With one final sudden shout, Kurt tenses and sprays the cold stone wall with cum. Pulling your head away, you look up at him, his back rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his breath.
"Good boy."
Kurt offers you a ride home but you think it's probably best that you walk, you don't want to waste any more of his time. Before he sets off you lean in the window of the car and hold your phone up to him. His face lights up as he looks to see your twitter, with a link to his stream hashtagged "TheLesson". You don't bother to tell him how few followers you have, the gesture by itself seems to be enough. You wait until the car's out of sight before you start walking home. Despite everything its probably still better he doesn't know where you live. Slipping your headphones into your ears you pull out your phone and open livefly. He's already live again, a big goofy smile spread over his face which fills up the entire screen. A warm heat creeps into your cheeks when you catch yourself smiling back.
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okay so im STARVING for top!idia content. people portray him as quiet and timid when this man is cocky asf. if you could do something with dubcon idia x fem!reader i would likely ascend into heaven
a/n thank you for giving me an excuse to write the exact kind of nasty idia content i've been dying to put out in the world. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it 💙
cw adult content, dubcon, slight degradation. minors dni 🔞
idia shroud x f!reader
You stumble on your way into the classroom, feet tangling together like the stalks of rampant ivy that festoon your dorm’s patchwork walls. You barely evade a sprained ankle by catching yourself on the door jamb, but even with the extra support, it’s all you can do to stay standing. Maybe you’d have an easier time of it if you could actually feel your legs.
“Can you —” Your voice snags in your throat, and you cough. Start over. “Can you turn it off now?”
The sole occupant of this otherwise deserted classroom finally looks up from his phone like he’s only just noticed you’re there — yeah, right. Eyes bruised from lack of sleep peer at you through a flickering curtain of hair and seem to linger on your crooked skirt and wobbly knees. The corner of his mouth curls up, then bends back down like he doesn’t want you to see him smiling. You know he can be self-conscious about his teeth, or anything, really, that makes him stand out from a crowd.
You suppose it’s his bad fortune, then, that he’s so very striking.
Easy to find, too, if you know his habits, which you do. You’re relieved he was in the first place you looked; if he hadn’t been, that would’ve meant he was in his room, and you’re not confident you could have hoofed it all the way to Ignihyde in your current state. It’s a small miracle you made it this far.
Idia stays silent while you catch your breath, fingers dancing with what you recognize as nervous energy. It’s like they’re itching to get back to whatever he was doing before you barged in here. Whatever, ha. As if you don’t already know.
After a moment, he asks, “Don’t you have class?”
“Don’t you?” you fire back. “Just turn it off, okay?”
Idia narrows his eyes and presses his phone to his chest like he’s afraid you’re going to snatch it right out of his hand. “It is off.”
You dig your fingers into the door jamb, scraping off flecks of paint you’ll have to pick out from under your nails later (if you haven’t passed out by then, that is). “You know that’s not what I — I meant off, off.”
Of course, Idia’s mostly just being an asshole, but he’s technically not wrong: the piece of molded silicone nestled up against your clit is off, lying dormant in the crotch of your underwear. But dormant’s the key word here. As in, it could spring back to life at any moment as long as Idia’s got his finger on the trigger. Or rather, that phone in his hand.
“Alright,” he says, surprising you into snapping your mouth shut. You hadn’t realized you’d opened it; you don’t even remember what you were going to say. “Come over here and I’ll take it out.”
You stay right where you are, not trusting his easy capitulation. Idia rolls his eyes at your hesitance and drums his fingers against his phone’s sleek black case.
“Or just keep wasting my time,” he mumbles. “That’s cool too, I guess.”
He’s talking more to himself than to you, but you know you’re meant to hear it, just like you know his words were calculated to get you to comply out of spite. It still works. You set your jaw and push off the door frame and take an uncertain step forward, legs shaking like a newborn fawn’s. When they don’t immediately collapse out from under you, you take another. Then another. You’re expending a ridiculously Herculean amount of effort here, but he told you to come to him, so you’re going to come to him. He certainly won’t be coming to you.
At least you’re only expected to make it to the middle of the room, where the Board Game Club’s usual table has been set up in anticipation of this afternoon’s activities. Your elbow inadvertently knocks the neat stack of games askew, but to your moderate surprise, Idia doesn’t scold you for messing up his things. He just scoots back his chair and taps his phone against his knee, rolling his eyes again when you don’t immediately move to stand in front of him.
“C’mere.” His long white fingers close around yours like the petals of a night-blooming flower shutting itself against the sun, and you allow him to tug you closer. “Lean back a sec.”
You lean your weight against the table, still clutching Idia’s hand, fidgeting. He seemed pretty insistent on taking the vibrator out himself — maybe he’s afraid you’d break its delicate parts on accident — which means he’ll have to reach under your skirt and into your panties to retrieve it. That won’t be completely humiliating or anything.
But instead of slipping his hand between your parted legs to fish the vibrator out, Idia disentangles his fingers from yours and instructs, softly, “Lift your skirt for me.”
You squirm, gripping the table’s edge now that you no longer have Idia’s hand to squeeze. “Idia —”
“Better hurry,” he says, regarding you with a cool detachment that’s belied by the pink tinge at the tips of his hair. “Azul’s never late, you know. Do you really want him to walk in on this?”
No, you absolutely do not. You hesitate another moment, then bite your lip and bunch the hem of your skirt in your fists to pull it slowly, reluctantly up. Idia’s breath hitches quietly but noticeably, and the pink in his hair starts to bleed into his cheeks, flushing his pale skin with blooming color. He leans forward in his chair, the black caverns of his dilated pupils glued to your bare thighs as you reveal them to him inch by tortuous inch. The way he looks at you makes you feel like you’re lifting the curtain on a play he’s spent thousands of thaumarks to see, just that enraptured.
Once you’ve pulled your skirt up high enough to flash the crotch of your panties, stained with sweat and arousal and distended by the contours of the toy, Ida reaches forward to circle his hand around your thigh, covetous. You twitch, a dull arrow of not-completely-unwilling heat spearing through your tired sex.
“Idia,” you say hoarsely. “Take it out.”
“In a minute.” His tone is dismissive and his eyes are fixed on his own hand as he drags it up your thigh to brush his fingertips over your panties’ inseam before slipping it back down to your knee. “Tell me something first. What was it like? Having to wear it all day?”
You try to squeeze your legs together, but you can’t close them completely with Idia’s hand in the way. “Awful,” you say bluntly. “And embarrassing. Ace and Deuce kept asking me if I was coming down with something, and I’m pretty sure Jack could smell what was going on.”
Idia’s lips curve into the shape of a sickle, flashing a sliver of sharp teeth. He grips you tighter, fingers dimpling the flesh of your thigh, and scoots to the very edge of his seat so his crotch is pressed flush with your knee. He’s hard, but you were expecting that. You wonder if he’s been hard all day, if he touched himself while he played with the vibrator’s settings and pictured your legs quivering beneath your desk as you bit your knuckles to keep from moaning aloud in class.
“Do you think he liked it? The smell, I mean.” Idia bends his head toward your crotch and inhales through his nose and mouth. You could die of embarrassment, you really could, but when he looks back up at you, his long lashes are fluttering like the scent of you is pure bliss. He grins with his eyes half closed. “I know I do.”
Your face burns, anxious sweat dewing at your temples and under your arms. You try to squirm away from him, but he just pulls you back. For someone who disdains sports as virulently as he does, Idia’s unexpectedly strong.
“Where’re you going?” He frowns, the blissful note that had sweetened his voice souring into something resentful and sullen. “I’m not finished yet.”
Finished with what? you try to ask, but the words lodge in your throat at the touch of his hand between your legs, two fingers prodding at the toy to rub its ridged silicone bump against your clit. Your nerve endings are flayed raw from this endless day, and any kind of friction on your clit makes you feel like a cat having its fur brushed in the wrong direction. You kick out with your foot, but Idia’s too close, torso wedged between your legs, and you hit nothing but empty air.
“Don’t know what you’re complaining for,” Idia mutters, still rocking the silent vibrator against your swollen lips and clit. The sound it makes as it hits your sex reminds you of fingers squeezing a wet sponge. “You’re the one who agreed to this. Kinda lame of you to back out now.”
You bite your tongue, fingers twisting in your skirt. Yes, you agreed to wear the vibrator to school for the day, but would you have made the same decision under different circumstances? Would you have said yes without the threat of Idia’s passive-aggressive disappointment hanging over your head? You don’t think you would have.
“Idia.” You try to sound firm, which is no mean feat when it feels like your brains are leaking out through your cunt. “I’m serious. If you don’t cut it out right now I’ll —”
Idia scoffs. “You’ll what? We both know you wanted this. If you hadn’t, you would’ve taken it out yourself.”
And as if to prove his point, he taps his thumb against his phone’s touchscreen and brings the toy back to shivering life.
Your hands jerk in the folds of your skirt; you think you hear a seam pop. “Idia.” You’re sweating harder now, and not just from the heat emanating off of Idia’s hair. You want to writhe away from the pulsating waves lapping at your clit like a ravenous tongue, but the vibrator’s clipped into your panties and there’s nowhere to go, no way to escape. “You said — you said you were going to —”
“In a minute,” Idia repeats. He cups your crotch in his hand and grinds the heel of his palm against the buzzing vibrator, making your legs jerk like he just hit you below the kneecaps with a rubber mallet. “You wanna come first, don’t you? I’ll bet you haven’t been able to come all day.”
He’s right, oh god, he’s right. Every time the vibrator brought you a hairsbreadth from release, it would immediately turn off like it could sense your building orgasm. Like Idia somehow knew when you were getting close even though he wasn’t there with you. Maybe if he’d let you come even once, you wouldn’t have excused yourself from class early to track him down.
“And whose fault is that?” you growl, but Idia just giggles, unselfconscious of his bristling teeth. His hair flickers like a guttering flame, spilling over his shoulders to lick at your thighs, all heat and no burn. You’re so overworked you’re not even sure if you can come, but Idia seems determined to try. As if he’s grown tired of touching you with your panties and a lump of silicone in the way, he slips his fingers into your underwear and stabs them into your cunt with an obscenely wet squish.
Your hands fly to his shoulders and cling to his jacket, hips jerking into his touch. Your cunt swallows his fingers in one hungry gulp and he curls them inside of you, pistons them in and out. The sound of him fucking you fills your ears, drowning out the discreet whisper of the vibrator. He must have adjusted the settings, because now it’s buzzing faster without getting any louder, thrumming so hard it makes your clit go half numb even as your cunt tightens in anticipation of your impending orgasm. Oh god, oh fuck.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Idia leans his face against your leg and licks the sweat from your skin, running his tongue all the way up to the crease of your thigh to taste the arousal that’s soaked through your panties. “Hurry up and come already. You don’t want Azul to walk in and see you squirting all over me, do you?”
Your cunt shivers around his fingers, and he laughs, breathless and unhinged, drool dripping from his lips to leak down your leg. “Or maybe you would like that. Huh? You wanna get caught? You want everyone at this school to know what a needy little slut you are?”
No, no, you don’t, but what you’d actually want to happen and what your body responds to don’t necessarily overlap. The thought of being caught in the act tightens you up like a key in a windup toy, and when the illicit thrill of it intertwines with the jackrabbit thrust of Idia’s fingers and the persistent buzz of the vibrator, the pressure that’s been building and waning inside you all day finally bursts. You don’t squirt all over Idia, but you do come in a damp gush of quivering, abject relief, cunt milking his fingers in great thirsty gulps.
Your legs are still shaking, and the toy’s still buzzing, when Idia unceremoniously yanks your panties down past your knees. You glance down, dizzy, and see that the blue-black of the silicone’s filmed over with spots of grungy white. You turn your face away, mortified, and look up into Idia’s. He stood up when you weren’t looking, and now he’s pressing you back against the table. Your pulse spikes.
“Azul,” you warn him, because as much as Idia likes to indulge in exhibitionist fantasies, if someone were to actually catch him with his pants down, you know he’d want to curl up and die.
But the reminder doesn’t even give him pause. “Yeah, I know. Azul.”
The vibrator goes silent; he’s put his phone away. He slides his fingers through the mess between your legs, making you hiss, then brings them to his lips and sucks them clean. While you’re still mentally recovering from that, he wraps his other hand around your wrist and presses your palm to his crotch.
“If you can make me come before he gets here —” Idia plants his face in the crook of your neck and scrapes his teeth over your skin. “— then I won’t make you wear the toy again tomorrow.”
You pinch his zip between your fingers and tug it down, but even if you’re able to make him come in an instant, you somehow doubt he intends to keep his promise.
Not when he had so much fun the first time.
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Childhood friend kenma who often comes to your house to play games while you do your stuff, saying that his house is too noisy or your couch is more comfortable.
Kenma who can't help but have filthy thoughts about his bestfriend especially when she comes out of the shower and just plops next to him asking what games is he playing.
Kenma who can feel your soft skin on his and your smell is intoxicating
Kenma who can't take it any longer and goes to the bathroom only to search for your used panties and sniff them, lick them while fistinv his cock.
😩😩 I am unwell
oh oh oh some of my favorite tropes mixed together 🥺
— cw: panty thief!kenma, masturbation, exhibitionism, he does it all behind readers back (noncon? dubcon? no idea)
childhood bestie!kenma who tries his very best to stay as unfazed and nonchalant as possible, yet always takes another used pair of underwear from your laundry basket before he leaves your apartment, simply because he physically can't cum anymore without the scent of your pretty pussy. 🥺
childhood bestie!kenma who can't stop thinking about just pulling your pretty bathrobe to the side and take one of your perfect tits into his mouth as he buries two of his slim fingers in your cunt because you just won't stop inching closer to him on the couch every after shower you take.
childhood bestie!kenma who knows his thoughts and actions are wrong because you're his dearest, longest and best friend – and the love of his life – but if it's so wrong why does it feel so good whenever he wraps your pretty panties around his pulsating cock before he starts stroking all while thinking about you and your sweet holes.
childhood bestie!kenma who is struggling to hide his hard ons whenever you're walking around in those flimsy camisoles you bought yourself to feel sexier for nobody but yourself. he loves the way you seem so confident, so sure about yourself – he's so proud of you. yet he also despises them because not a day goes by where he buries his face in his arm to muffle his deep grunts as he fucks his fist like a horny teenager.
and childhood bestie!kenma who loses his mind when he realises you've noticed his change in demeanor because instead of wearing your robe after your shower, you decide to opt for a teeny tiny towel which barely covers anything, before you come to sit next to him - as usual - only to push his hand in between your legs and finally have his dreams become reality 🥺
#panty thief cw#exhibitionism cw#dubcon cw#(???)#noncon cw#(??????)#how do i tag this???#; drabbles#; haikyuu#; kozume kenma#; panty thieves
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mdtb
(1,2) (3) (4, 5, 6)
no love lost mix
#madatobi#elhnart#blood gore tag#dubcon cw#nsft#elhnsft#SPOT THE OMEGAVERSE#and also how terribly everything lays out. maybe you should click on the imgs :)#ask2tag
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Rent
Written for Day 5 of nsfwhumptober by @whump-world ("were the pillows soft?"; noncon drugging | denial | creepy whumper)
Noor changes hands.
(This is set a while before Adrian meets Noor in this piece [Raid])
Content/Warnings: BBU, there are bad people in and out of the BBU system, I'm afraid. Referenced Drugging, conditioned whumpee, implied dubcon, BBU Romantic Pet, implied forced prostitution.
Noor came to in a small room, curled up on a thin mattress he could feel the hard floor through. The world around him was colorful blurred forms, oddly shaking, even though it wasn't meant to be.
Not white. But also, entirely unfamiliar.
He didn't understand how he got here. Wasn't he meant to be on a transport, back to Handler Kane? Wasn't he- Uh. He didn't understand anything, not even entirely where he was meant to be. Or who he was meant to be.
All he understood was, he wasn't alone. Which meant, he had to be good. Always be good. He tried to push himself up onto his knees into a shaky position one, but didn't manage to straighten himself up entirely. One hand was still keeping himself steady, pressed on the makeshift bed.
He pressed his forehead into the cold floor. Respect position, at least.
"Ssss-" He couldn't speak. His voice was creaking and trembling.
"What is it, whore, huh? You're going to complain or what? Are the pillows here not as soft as our princess is used to?"
"Princess," another stranger chuckled. "Oh you're so right. He really has the looks."
Noor blinked, hoping the blurry shapes hovering above him would settle into something he could make sense of. They didn't.
"Sss… Sorry. I'm sorry," he mumbled. His mouth felt weirdly dry, his tongue too slow when he spoke.
Drugs. This one thought came clear, brillant, like the gleaming blade of a knife.
Not the good kind. His head throbbed, as if the knife had been twisted in his mind.
"I… Please give your… your review of my service to WRU, Handler… Handler Kane can make you an… indivi…" The words felt like chewing gum, sticky and rubbery. "Indi-"
"Oh, shut it, Princess. Handler Kane is out of the picture." A hand ruffled through his hair, too rough to be affectionate. Noor leaned into the touch, anyway. It earned him a delighted chuckle. "Yeah, pet. You're free now. We've, what to these guys call it? Lib… Liberate? We've liberated you? Wow. That sounds ridiculous."
Confused, Noor tilted his head. "I am… am a pet. Sir," he said slowly. "400115, Designation Romantic. Demonstration and Trial." His speech was still slurred, his head still feeling like filled with cotton wool, but he knew his lines.
"Let's just forget all these words for now." The man's hand was still in his hair, playing with his long strands. "You're with us now. No more… Demonstration and Trial. This is the real thing."
"I-", Noor tried to begin, but his mouth was too dry. "I… Wa… water? Please?"
A small noise, and a plastic bottle was pressed to his lips, head tilted back just a little bit to allow water to fill up his mouth. He swallowed, lapped up more, filled with a sudden gratitude.
"Gosh, you look amazing with something in your mouth," the man said. Noor was aware the innuendo; of course he was, that's what he was for; and he tried to smile while still drinking as much as he could, before the man could decide to change the bottle for something else.
It didn't make sense, but that was fine, things didn't need to make sense, as long as there was someone holding him and calling him pretty.
"We've freed you from WRU," the other man said. "We have a room for you, there's a kitchen you can share with the others. It's not the prettiest place, but it's well run."
The bottle was gone, and when Noor blinked again, he could make out the faces of the men. They were smiling down on him.
"There's rent, of course."
Noor wasn't entirely sure, what rent was. He should know, he thought. But it seemed to escape from him whenever he tried to pinpoint it. So instead he blinked up at them lazily, a little flirtatious. "Of course," he echoed softly.
The first man exhaled sharply and bit his lip. "Fuck," he whispered. "He's good, isn't he?"
The other scoffed and went on. "Rent's due every week. You pay it to me. You can find your own customers, whenever you want, but we do also have a customer base who'd certainly be interested in someone like you giving them a good time."
"I can give them the time of their life," Noor purred. He didn't understand who they were, or what this place was. Handler Kane - Felix - sometimes set up little tests for him. Maybe this was one. The Tests were always easy to pass though. Just do what he was good for. And things would turn out well. He leaned back against the man's thigh and looked up at him through his lashes. "I can give you the time of your life."
"I don't think he got it," the second man mumbled.
"Oh no." The first ran his hand over Noor's lower lip and grinned. "I think he got it good enough, didn't you, Princess?"
Noor smiled softly and tilted back his head. His lips parted already, before the man even had finished fumbling for his zipper.
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First spooky season upload ft. my Divine RomCom AU I've introduced before. These two fall for one another when they shouldn't. 🤭❤️🔥
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