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depravitycentral · 4 months

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Yandere! Gyutaro NSFW Profile

Yandere! Gyutaro x fem! reader

Tw: non-con, dub-con, stalking, kidnapping, Gyutaro threatens a couple to let him watch them have sex, exhibitionism, masturbation, period sex, spitting, minor implications of somnophilia, mentions of physical violence, threats, murder, Gyutaro is a freak and likes to hold your hand during sex, fem reader, MDNI

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

WC: 13K

HABITS:

Generally speaking, Gyutaro has never really touched himself. Perhaps when he was younger, still a human and going through puberty, but for the vast, vast majority of Gyutaro’s life, his demon biology has rendered every sexual urge he feels dulled to the point of disappearing.

That said, he’s still able to grow jealous at hearing when human partners are intimate with one another, their moans and cries grating on his ears and making him scowl, anger simmering in his veins because why can’t he have that?

Sure, he could find some random human woman and take what he wants from her, but there’s something about the way humans clutch onto one another, moaning out praises and begging for more that enticing Gyutaro, making him feel shy and bashful and pissed because he knows that will never be him. He’ll never have a woman gasping his name in anything other than fear, and although he’s accepted it, he’s wildly jealous.

However, because his actual sexual urges themselves are diminished, Gyutaro more often finds himself jealous than horny – a stark difference between the two. And consequently, he has minimal experience with masturbation, and he frankly doesn’t care. His logistical situation with Daki makes finding the time to touch himself in his own private space extremely difficult. Plus, there’s something awfully pitiful about wrapping his fingers around his cock with the knowledge that they’ll only ever be his fingers, no one else’s – something that makes him warble and scratch himself bloody, effectively killing any libido he’d managed to feel.

But with all of that said, things begin changing once his infatuation with you develops. He’s not immediately wishing to fuck you, but as Gyutaro becomes more comfortable with the idea of intimacy with you, lewd thoughts start tainting the edges of his mind, turning the relatively innocent fantasy of cuddling with you into grinding against your ass, grasping your thigh and lifting it up just barely so that he can slot himself inside, breathing hard into your ear and growling, the sound throaty and heady and so very needy.

And really, is that so unnatural?

Sure, his libido isn’t the strongest, but imagining the woman he thinks he’s in love with to be naked and laid out underneath him isn’t out of the ordinary, right?

He’s sure all men think about the depraved thoughts that start worming their way into his imagination – they’re mostly questions, really, tying into his obsessiveness and desperation to learn as much about you as he possibly can.

He’s idly wondering how you sound when you moan – is it airy, high-pitched, low, gasping?

How do you look when you come? Does your face scrunch up, does your mouth drop open, do you close your eyes, does your back arch, do you curl your toes, do you reach out and grasp at anything you can find?

What’s your favorite position? He’d be willing to try all of them if you’d like, if you’re unsure – Gyutaro secretly thinks his own favorite will be having you on top, your pretty tits mere inches from his lips and giving him a perfect view of both your own face and your cunt sucking him in again and again and again, the sight making him dizzy with pleasure and forcing him to grasp your hips and fuck up into you, just to hear you gasp and moan and scream his name.

Have you ever squirted? He hopes no man has ever touched you at all, much less made you squirt, but Gyutaro swears he’ll get you to do it – he wants to feel your release all over his face, coating his fingers, tongue, chin, and cock, smeared across every inch of his skin and worn proudly.

Do you like to be praised or degraded, and do you like your lovers vocal? Gyutaro sure hopes so, because he knows he won’t be able to shut up when he’s buried balls deep inside you, your wet, warm, tight walls clenching down on him and forcing curse after groans out of him, practically milking him for both his cum and his moans. He wouldn’t mind praising or degrading you – what naturally slips out of his mouth when he’s fucking his fist is a healthy mix of both, imagining you in front of him and calling you my perfect slut or something of the sort.

Do you groom yourself, keeping everything perfectly smooth and shaved, or do you let nature takes its course? He hopes it’s the latter – he wants to relish in your scent, to bury his face between your legs and inhale deeply, getting a nose full of you, something made much easier when your hair and pheromones are tickling his cheeks.

(While he prefers you to not shave, Gyutaro himself will try to clean himself up routinely – starting way before he steals you away, just so that he can learn how to do it, to make sure he knows how to so that he doesn’t embarrass himself the first time you see him naked. The thought already embarrasses him enough – to have his body open to your scrutiny, to feel you looking at him, and he really doesn’t need the extra stress. Luckily for him, his quick regeneration means no accidental knicks with the razor knife last long – unfortunately, it also means that any cut hair regrows almost instantaneously, much to his displeasure. He’s hopeful you won’t be too disgusted by his pubes the first time you see him – though the dark hairs do a good job of framing the very, very long cock hanging between his legs.)

Quite honestly, he stalks you with such intensity and consistency that he’ll know the answer to many of these questions before long – he's memorized how you look when you come, your face ingrained into his brain and flashing behind his eyelids when he’s orgasming himself. But it’s different to be thinking about something like that – something so naughty. Gyutaro spends his time idly wondering these questions, a pale pink blooming on his cheeks because it’s just so dirty and you’re so very sweet, and thinking of you in such a lewd light almost makes him feel guilty.

Almost, because then he sees you, hiding from the shadows and getting the smallest whiff of your scent every few seconds, and then suddenly all guilt is gone because fuck, he needs you.

However, Gyutaro is still oddly shy about certain things with you. As such, when he first begins fantasizing about fucking you, there’s that small, annoyingly human part of him that worries if you’ll find him revolting once he’s fully nude in front of you, vulnerable to your facial expressions and any words of negative reaction.

He’s terrified, really, that you’ll find him unattractive or too repulsive to sleep with. He wants you to want him, to need him as he needs you, and if you were to call him ugly, a monster, anything of the sort? Well, it would take the demon a long, long time to recover from such a blow to his heart, old wounds tearing open fresh to endure another bout of pain.

And so, in a panicked and a frantic attempt to avoid any negative criticism from you once your intimate relationship begins, Gyutaro decides that he needs to learn more about actual sex, not just the crude, vulgar words he hears from the human men around him. If he wants to have any hope at making you actually enjoy sex with him (something he desperately, desperately wants), Gyutaro feels that he needs to see the real thing, to observe carefully and take notes.

Luckily, it’s not particularly hard to find a coupling around the Entertainment District, sneaking across roofs and peeking into windows until he hears moans and slapping sounds and sees writhing bodies and smells the musty, acrid odor of sex. And once he does, Gyutaro is quick to step down into the room, his presence casting a shadow against the moonlight and candle light of the room, the couple immediately stopping and staring at him in fear.

Before either person has a chance to scream, Gyutaro’s rushing forward, a hand covering each mouth and a sneer on his face as he tells the man that he’s so lucky, having a pretty woman to fuck every night… show me.

The man’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head underneath Gyutaro’s hand, causing the demon’s sneer to fall into a scowl. He needs to see this couple make love – he needs tips and advice, to see how it really goes. Plus, the woman’s body is somewhat similar to yours – perhaps you have similar spots that feel particularly good, and Gyutaro will take any and every scrap of information and ideas he can in order to make eventual sex with you good.

Anything to get you moaning his name and pulling at his hair and begging him for more.

Let me watch you fuck her, or I’ll kill you both. What’s your choice, huh? Gyutaro holds eye contact with the man, watching him debate, feeling the woman trembling and crying under his other hand.

His eye twitches – damn this man for loving the woman, because his slight hesitation in answering means he doesn’t want Gyutaro to see her nude, vulnerable, exposed, and it’s making Gyutaro imagine someone propositioning him this about you. Violent images of how he’d slaughter and kill whoever was threatening to see you moaning and gasping and naked flash through his mind, making him grit his teeth and press against their mouths harder.

At that, the man frantically nods yes, and Gyutaro snickers. Eh, you bastard, letting me watch you touch your woman? Pathetic, man, pathetic.

He takes his hands off their mouths, bracing himself for any screams, but when none come he smiles – a mean, twisted smile. I want to see everything, you know? Start over, act like I’m not here. I’m just watching, so give me a good show but be natural! I’ll kill you if you’re not natural.

Gyutaro scratches at his chest as he settles back against a wall on the side of the room, watching as the couple shakily sits up. The woman is still crying, but the man cups her cheek in his palm, swallowing hard, before slotting his lips against hers. The woman immediately begins kissing him back, the motions slow and hesitant.

Gyutaro growls, his voice forceful as he tells them to kiss harder, I’ll cut off your lips if you don’t.

That gets the two of them moving faster, the audible wet noises as her tongue slips into his mouth making Gyutaro lick his lips. It’s all too easy to imagine you in the woman’s place and him in the man’s, his hand sitting at your breast just as the man’s is, idly squeezing and playing with her nipple. They spend a few more moments kissing, before the man carefully pushes the woman back, laying her down with her legs spread over, her hands held over her head.

They’re still kissing, and Gyutaro’s hand snakes down to cup at his bulge, the idea of wet noises and hovering over you making his breath short. He’s watching them seemingly without blinking, reaching down past the top hem of his pants and firmly clutching at this balls, squeezing harshly and making him hiss through his teeth as the man shimmeys down, kissing and licking at the woman’s breasts.

She keens, biting her lip and trying to not look at Gyutaro, the man using his thumb and index finger to roll her nipple, pinching and tugging while flicking his tongue over its twin. Gyutaro pulls his hands out of his pants briefly to spit into his palm, hand slithering back into his pants and gripping the base of his cock in a death grip.

He’s painfully hard at this point – the man’s head is suddenly between the woman’s thighs, and Gyutaro’s moving forward before he can even think about, still gripping himself under his pants as he nears the bed, wanting an up-close view of the man’s actions. They both tense at this, but Gyutaro scoffs.

Keep going, yeah? Just needed a better view.

The man swallows but obeys, tongue flicking out to lick a long stripe from her folds up and over her clit, making her sigh. Soon his tongue is flicking out and licking at the small bud, fingers pulling up to expose the area and make access easier. Gyutaro mentally notes that away – he knows women like when men play with their clit, and perhaps you’d be impressed by his knowledge of this, or the way he’ll pull your lips up, just so he can fully see that pretty, throbbing pearl on you.

The man’s free hand moves up to run a few fingers through her folds, his fingers suddenly soaking wet and glistening in the moonlight. Gyutaro licks his lips – god, he wants to taste you so bad, his tastebuds tingling and his mouth literally salivating at the thought of tasting your lips, what’s between your legs, even your tears. Gyutaro’s hand slowly moves up, hand slicked with spit lessening the friction and making him lowly groan. The man slips a finger inside her, the woman’s small moan making the man’s brows twitch together.

Gyutaro’s careful to watch the man’s pacing – his tongue is licking steady, consistent circles over her clit, while his fingers are thrusting slowly, carefully, adding a second finger after a few moments. Would you like the same pacing? Gyutaro’s not sure, but the hand not diligently pumping at his cock beneath his pants mimics the same finger motion as the man, his tongue slipping out to mimic licking small circles. He matches the man’s pace, wide yellow eyes slowly starting to go half-lidded from the pleasure of his fingers wrapped around his girth.

Tell me what feels best, woman.

He’ll snarl, keeping an eye on the way the man tenses up but doesn’t stop his actions. The woman’s flushed, her eyes darting to him before quickly looking away.

When – ah, when he curls his fingers up, fuck, and little circles on – oh! She cuts herself off with a moan, and Gyutaro (irritated that she didn’t finish but too focused on her instructions) repeats the words over and over in his head, modifying the hand motion he’s practicing to closely resemble her descriptions.

His fist moves a bit faster, creating a deft thump motion each time his fingers bump into his navel. The sound of the man fingering the woman is so, so very lewd, too – it’s wet, a squelching noise that makes Gyutaro drool, the idea that you’d be that wet making his throat dry, his hips bucking forward against his fist involuntarily.

Fuck her, now, ngh…

The man gulps, wiping the woman’s slick off of his lips and chin, and Gyutaro feels a particularly large glob of precum dribble from his tip, the extra lubrication making his pleasure just that much sharper.

Start over her.

He instructs as the man moves to hover over her, nodding at the demon’s words and slotting himself between her legs. Gyutaro watches intently as the man grips the base of his cock, aligning his tip with your hole, pushing forward and letting his eyes roll to the back of his head. Gyutaro sucks in a sharp breath – would you feel that good inside? He's sure you would; you’re so pretty and sexy, of course you have the best cunt. He bets it’s incredibly warm, wet enough to leave his cock, navel, and upper thighs coated in no time, and god you’d be so fucking tight, gripping him hard enough to make pulling out of you nearly impossible-

The woman lets out a wanton moan as the man starts moving, the pace immediately fast and bruising. The sound of his balls clapping against her ass fills the room, and Gyutaro pants, his fist moving faster and faster, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He transitions from moving his arm to thrusting his stationary fist, matching the man’s pacing and imagining it’s you getting fucked, that your cries are the ones ringing in his ears and it’s your pretty tits that are bouncing and jiggling with the force of the thrusts.

From behind – shit, from behind! He instructs, his voice strained with his impending orgasm.

The man listens, pulling out and carefully slipping her over, slipping back inside and listening to the way the woman cries out. Gyutaro’s eyes focus on her breasts as they sway and jiggle – you have a very similar size, and just the thought of him fucking you hard enough to get your tits moving makes his eyes flutter closed for a moment, eyebrows drawing tightly together at the thought.

This sight is even more erotic than the last position – it’s all too easy to imagine it’s him pulling at your hips, smacking his own against your ass again and again, making you feel him so deep, deep enough to get you chanting his name like a fucking prayer. Gyutaro moves forward and uses his free hand to grab the man’s, forcing his fingers into her hair and pushing her face down against the mattress, the new position making the man groan and the woman shudder.

Gyutaro curses, letting go and putting all his effort into fucking his fist to the same tempo, trying to match the man’s perfectly. He wants to fuck you like this, he decides – leaning over you like some sort of animal, mounting you, fucking you in the most raw, animalistic way.

You’d look so damn pretty, and he’s sure your pussy would make wet noises like hers is, your slick dripping down your thighs and your pleas to give you more more more please Gyutaro, need your cum!

Gyutaro gasps hard as cum sprays all along the inside of his pants, his fist slowing to a stop as he rides out his high, eyes half lidded and all sorts of groans and sharp exhales filling the room.

The couple stares, bewildered, unsure of what to do – he’s still fucking her but more gently, and Gyutaro smirks at them, still dazed from the pleasure and the idea of doing this to you. Licking his lips, he climbs onto the windowsill, glancing over his shoulder at them.

I’m coming back tomorrow night. He stares at the woman, a wide smile splitting across his features. You’re gonna show me how to suck cock right, yeah? Gotta make sure I can guide her when she-

He stops, swallowing, his cheeks still blushed from his orgasm and from the vulgar idea of you taking him down his throat.

Don’t you tell anyone about this, eh? I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you.

And with that, he’s gone, disappeared from the windowsill and leaving the man and woman to embrace each other, shaking in fear. Meanwhile, Gyutaro’s running from roof to roof, adrenaline filling his veins because he has to see you now – he’s too pent up, and he needs to see you in person. As expected, you’re asleep by the time he reaches your home, sitting on your window edge, licking his lips and breathing hard.

You’re so fucking pretty – he crawls closer, acutely aware to be quiet and not wake you. You’d fallen asleep on your futon, the blanket still neatly folded in the corner, and Gyutaro swallows before grabbing the cloth, pulling it over you and up to your chin, his hands trembling.

He sighs, his fingers itching to reach out and touch you, to bend you into the positions he’d seen the couples trying, but he refrains. He doesn’t want to wake you, doesn’t want you to be aware of his presence quite yet. He has to be patient, good – he’ll allow himself one pleasure, however, as he dips a finger inside his pants, scooping up some of his still warm cum and gently, gingerly smearing it across your lips, practically moaning at the sight of white against your skin.

You’re just so, so perfect – it almost makes him sick, but as he returns to the couple the next night, demanding the woman get on her knees, Gyutaro can’t help but shiver.

It may take him a while to actually touch you, but god, he’ll be ready.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your stomach

In general, one of the things that Gyutaro finds he adores about you as his obsession festers is how opposite the two of you are. Regardless of your weight, you are physically different from him – and Gyutaro notices this early on.

That is, his body is essentially just bone – skin stretched to cover his skeleton, while you have lovely warm, squishy skin covering your curves and pretty body. You’re so fucking soft – nothing on you can possibly be as hard as he is, and from the moment he first holds your waist with a slightly shaking hand he can’t help but notice this difference every time he looks at you.

He grows to love feeling the areas on you that hold the most squishiness, and his favorite place of all is your stomach. There’s something so relaxing about how warm the area is, your skin practically his personal hand warmer as he slides his hands into your kimono, his palms pressed snugly against your tummy.

They don’t move much; stationary, just simply feeling, the intention not inherently sexual. However, as you bring back small traces of his long-buried humanity, you also bring back traces of his libido, something that’s been noticeably gone throughout the duration of his time as a demon.

And so, as urges to kiss and touch you slowly begin seeping into his mind, Gyutaro slowly becomes fixated on the fact that you’re so fucking soft, the perfect thing for him to squeeze and lick and fuck until you’re crying and begging for more more more –

His sex drive isn’t monumental, but Gyutaro would be blatantly lying if he said he hasn’t fantasized about how soft you’d feel underneath him before, your pretty body on display for his greedy eyes.

He’s seen many humans naked, but the first time he sees you without any clothing on, his hands are immediately reaching out – and, surprisingly, heading directly for your stomach. His breaths come out harsher as he stares down at your exposed belly, the skin even softer somehow than when it touches it under your clothes.

As he starts regularly fucking you, get ready for his hands to always be gravitating towards your stomach, his fingers pressing into the soft fat while you writhe and squirm in his lap as he forces you up and down his cock, his eyes rolling back into his head while he practically drools.

He loses his composure during sex, and it’ll be more than apparent in the way he grasps onto your tummy like it’s his life line, as if you’re the only thing tethering him to Earth while his orgasm crashes over him.

And god, when he’s got you laying in front of him, your pretty legs parted to expose the soft, warm pussy he claims as his, Gyutaro uses your stomach as almost a pillow – he’s watching his fingers appearing and disappearing out of your cunt, your juices smeared across his pale skin as he rests his forehead on the softness of your lower belly.

His eyes are wide and unblinking, his lips parted in awe as he watches the way you just take them, your velvety walls clenching down repeatedly, hard enough to make his mouth water. He’s always leaving small kisses against your stomach after sex, an oddly sweet gesture that makes every bruise he leaves on your body from the rough fucking feeling slightly better.

It’s strange, his fascination, and at first you have the terrible, horrible fear that his obsession stems from wanting to grow his family with a child. It’s a terrifying thought, one you try to put out of your head, but eventually (after he forces you to tell him, his eyes turning dark and threatening as he demands you to tell me, don’t keep any secrets from me, ever) the fear is lost, as Gyutaro regretfully informs you that demons are infertile.

You’re relieved, but the question only seems to further ignite his obsession with your stomach – you’ll catch him speaking to it when you’re asleep, odd little confessions of if only I could… when you wake up.

Essentially, Gyutaro is obsessed with your tummy because it’s soft and squishy and fuck you’re so very pretty.

His fingers

Generally speaking, Gyutaro isn’t particularly fond of any specific body part of his own.

He’s proud of his ability to fight and destroy, but especially in the context of physical attractiveness, Gyutaro firmly believes what he’s always been told. He knows he’s unappealing; how could anyone ever like a monster with such a grotesque body and face?

It’s a cycle of self-deprecation that he’s found comfort in for most of his life, but once you appear, suddenly he’s wildly disappointed that he isn’t more handsome. He wishes he had a fuller figure, muscle spanning his chest and back, just like all those slayers he sees.

He wishes he had softer hair, a more symmetrical smile, less facial blemishes, everything.

He hates that he’s limited to human beauty ideals, but he can’t help it – how can he, when you’re around him looking so cute and adorable? You’re not perfect either (though he loves your imperfections perhaps more than anything else), but he wants to be perfect for you.

And so, while Gyutaro silently wallows in his self-misery, he slowly discovers that despite his lack of sexual experience and general understanding of human female anatomy, you seem to really, really like his fingers.

His nails were, initially, something you’d quickly stammered out a w-wait! to when he’d tried to shove a finger inside, and while he hadn’t appreciated your interruption, when you mentioned he could stab you and make you bleed with how sharp they were, he reluctantly digressed.

It’s not hard to bite off the excess sharpness of the nail, grinding them down to a roundness against the flesh of his finger, perfectly safe.

The first time he’d fingered you, Gyutaro was shocked at how impossibly warm, wet and tight you were inside. It was like touching velvet – so soft, your walls sucking him in and seeming to almost invite him inside, as if you wanted him there, like you didn’t want him to leave.

He’s staring transfixed at the way you take them, your pussy squelching as he slowly thrusts them in and out, your little squeals making his cheeks flush a very light pink. He loves the way you gasp when he curls them just so, brushing against the spongey spot he’s memorized as your favorite.

He loves to abuse the area; watching as your eyes squeeze closed, your fingers grasping onto his shoulders, your thighs tensing and clenching, your little cries of his name and yes – yes please ‘Taro, fuck please!

He loves how quickly he can get you falling apart with his fingers, how you’re reduced to nothing but a moaning, whimpering mess once he gets you below him. It boosts his confidence, and occasionally between thrusts inside, he’ll pull his fingers out and suck on them, his own little groan slipping out as he savors your taste, all musky and heavy.

And of course, once he discovers your clit, it’s over for you – he’s never leaving the small button alone, the bundle of nerves positively sore by the time he’s done with you. He’s rubbing small circles against it, drawing figure eights, writing the kanji for his name with the tip of his finger, anything he can to get your back arching up, your toes curling and your lips parting into that pretty ‘o’ he loves so much.

He’s constantly bewildered by just how much pleasure he can deliver you with only his hands, and so as he squeezes and gropes at your ass, breasts, stomach, anything and everything, just know that he’s feeling nearly as good as you are.

After all, those bandages as pants may be loose, but you can still see a very clear outline of just how excited he is – and just how much he’s enjoyed the way you’ve made a mess of his fingers, if the wet stain around said outline is any indicator. He just really, really likes using his fingers on you, so just let him, yeah?

DRIVE:

Gyutaro’s never been that horny. Having been turned into a demon while young, he’s never really experienced the human emotion of lust, his sexual urges having faded out from his teenage years to nearly nothing. He’s too consumed by other emotions – anger, jealousy, pity – to really focus on something so arbitrary, something so human.

And so, as a result of this repressed sexual drive Gyutaro doesn’t immediately begin lusting after you once his obsession with you begins to form. He isn’t desperate to fuck you the moment he realizes he feels some twisted form of love, nor does he want to touch you in any way that’s inherently sexual.

Instead, his urges to be with you and feel your skin are much, much more innocent in nature – of course, he’s still a man-eating monster, but he wants to touch your cheek just because it looks soft.

He wants to run his hands along your sides because you’re so small compared to his looming figure, and he wants to make sure that you’re real.

He wants to know how it feels to have you in his arms, because he’s seen human couples doing that and it’s a show of intimacy and connection between two people, and that’s what he wants to have with you.

As time passes, his urges towards you slowly begin moving towards the area of lusting, however. Soon he’s wanting to kiss you; his lips are always chapped, of course, and he’s sure his breath smells atrocious, but your lips look so soft and warm, like they’d be perfect to press against his own.

He imagines pressing you against his body as you kiss him, your hands resting against his chest as you sigh into his mouth, the human form of affection seeming so intimate and lovely and necessary.

It’s some long lost repressed human part of him driving these desires, but Gyutaro can’t find it in himself to care – especially not after the first time he sees you nude. He’s seen dozens of humans naked before; he lives in the Entertainment District after all, and when he’s devouring someone, he’s not particularly respectful with keeping them covered up.

However, there’s something different about you – maybe it’s because he feels so attached to you, or maybe it’s because he suddenly can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to embrace your naked body with his own, free of any fabric separating the both of you while he indulges in your warmth, softness, the plush skin of your body.

He’s not sure, but regardless, after that moment suddenly all those sexual feelings leftover from his time as a human come rushing back to him – he’s hard without even realizing it, his eyes bulging out of their sockets as he simply stares, his expression going dumb.

You’re uncomfortable with it, he can tell by the way you avoid his gaze, but he can’t find it in himself to care – you’re so beautiful, perfect for him in every possible way. And so, after that night, Gyutaro finds himself inching closer and closer towards the final level of intimacy, pushing the boundaries just a bit more each night until he’s eventually got you perched in his lap, his hands placed on your hips.

You’re both naked, your breasts placed tantalizingly close, close enough to be able to reach out and wrap his lips around your nipple, to suck and watch you keen, to maybe even sigh out his name…

He’s rendered mute by your pussy the first time he fucks you, truly too pussydrunk to really even think, as embarrassing as it is. The big, strong Gyutaro falls so easily to your body – one clench and he’s shuddering, every nerve in his body on fire as he tries not to come quite yet – only lasting thirty seconds is wildly embarrassing, and while you’d never poke fun at him for fear of dying, Gyutaro grits his teeth and tries to hold on to his dignity.

And so, sex with you becomes a regular craving for the demon. His urges aren’t too unbearable, and he only ever acts on it a few nights a week, but be prepared because Gyutaro will fuck you, and you will like it – he'll make sure you come, and doesn’t that mean you’re enjoying yourself?

But until he gather up enough courage to actually fuck you, Gyutaro takes baby steps. He can’t do too much all at once – he gets too overwhelmed, too shy and embarrassed because you’re looking at him, your pretty eyes and face and voice giving him attention. It makes his lips go numb, anxiously scratching at his arms and struggling to meet your gaze because god he wants to touch you and hear you moan his name, but how does one go about that, exactly?

Sure, he knows the basics of sex and has watched couples initiate it, but it’s different with you. It’s different because Gyutaro isn’t stupid – he knows you’re afraid of him, that he’s too grotesque and ugly for you to ever really want to be intimate with, and these thoughts make it hard for him to just take what he wants from you.

And so, he starts small – he'll touch you a little more, fingertips pressing hard into your sides when he ghosts his hands there, trying to be gentle but struggling to regulate his strength because you’re so close to him.

He’ll let his fingers brush over your hair, never enough for you to feel but just enough for the texture to become familiar, always bringing his fingers up to his nose and smelling them afterwards, something between a growl and a moan slipping from his lips at the scent.

He’ll reach out and lightly, oh so lightly press his thumb against your cheek, marveling at how soft your skin is and how warm it is, mumbling something under his breath about how you’re too pretty, how it makes him sick that you’re too damn pretty.

His breathing will be a little unsteady when his does this, those yellow eyes of his glancing between your own and your lips, contemplating in a way that he thinks is much more subtle than it actually is.

He wants all sorts of human intimacy with you, and the next thing that he wants to tackle is kissing you. The idea is strange to him - why do humans press their mouths together? It must feel good, but why? He’s curious, but touching you has such an effect on him, so surely tasting you would suck the air right out of his lungs, leaving his knees feeling weak and making pink bloom across his cheeks.

He doesn’t ask you for permission, instead one day coming to sit beside you against the wall of the lair, that familiar concentrated look in his eye. He’ll ask you some question whose answer he doesn’t care about – just to see your lips moving, watching with sharp eyes how your tongue contorts and moves inside your mouth, sometimes flicking out to lick at your lips, the sight almost making him whimper.

Soon, he can’t just watch – he’s rushing forward without any warning, pressing against you with a level of force that makes you yelp. His lips are dry and cracked (despite him having licked them excessively in preparation for this moment, wishing to make them as soft and pleasant as possible), and they’re not moving – he’s staying perfectly still, eyes wide open and staring at you.

It scares you, because while you know what he’s doing, the experience is anything but pleasant. He stays like that for a few moments, before slowly, very slowly moving, his lips clumsy and unsure as they work at you. It feels like he’s trying to eat you – his tongue and teeth stay firmly inside his mouth, but his lips keep trying to fit more and more of you into his mouth at once, saliva smearing across bits of your cheek and chin.

You’re still completely frozen, unsure of what to do, and Gyutaro pulls back, scowling. It had felt good – in a strange way, a way that made something in his stomach feel tight and warm, but he’s sure it would feel much better if you were participating too, if you’d actually kiss him back. Don’t just sit there, he’ll warble to you, not willing to actually ask you to kiss him back, his pride barring him from practically begging for what he wants.

(Though as your sexual relationship progresses, this pride slowly withers away and dies – to the point where he’ll get on his knees and beg for you to open your pretty mouth and suck him off, because even though he could force you easily, it always feels better when you consent, when you at pretend to actually want him.)

This time, as he leans in, your lips move too, trying to match his awkward kisses. Gyutaro groans at that, leaning further against you, the weight causing you to fall backwards, lying flat on your back. You’d pulled away from the kiss during the fall, and as Gyutaro stares down at you hungrily, he swallows, sucking through his teeth harshly and trying to get every drop of your saliva down his throat. You must really, really want him, huh?

The sight simultaneously flusters and flatters him, and before you can say a word he’s scrambling over you, pressing his lips against yours harshly, with vigor, his tongue slipping out and practically forcing its way down your throat. You just taste so fucking good – it's addictive, and the knowledge that you’d laid down for him, wanting him to hover over you and mimic sex making his head swim. He’s breathing hard through his nose, almost wheezing, and you quickly shut your eyes, not wanting to look at his still wide-open ones.

He kisses you for a long, long time – easily thirty minutes, not tiring of the feeling, his tongue still actively rubbing against yours, tracing every tooth and managing to dip into every crevice in your mouth, each new area making him groan and get just a hair more desperate.

When he eventually pulls away, he licks your lips and smiles shakily, a hand coming down to pet at your hair. Next time, will you take you shirt off? It probably grosses you out, huh, that request?

And when you nod with wide eyes, too scared to say no, Gyutaro will exhale slowly, nodding and muttering a series of slurred good’s and your name under his breath, before stalking off out of the lair. Once out of your sight he’s stopping, a hand coming up to scratch at the area right over his heart, his face morphing into something between despair and prevenance.

You’re just so damn pretty – he can’t handle the sight of you, and the image of you laid out before him, looking up at him with those eyes makes every muscle in his body tense, that familiar warm feeling in his groin growing tighter and tighter, and as a hand snakes down to palm at the now very noticeable and wet bulge in his pants, Gyutaro decides that he needs to speed this process up.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can take holding himself back – not if touching you and tasting you and making you gasp feel this good.

(Later that night, as he hovers over your sleeping form and tugs near painfully on his cock, Gyutaro decides that the next step can happen right then and there – you’d look so good with his cum smeared all across your face, wouldn’t you?)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

While Gyutaro has a difficult time believing your compliments initially, with time he grows much more willing (and desperate) to indulge in your sweet words.

Your kind praises of his caring actions – no matter how forced the words are – have him melting inside, his heart pounding in his chest while he struggles to hold your gaze. He reverts to a bit of a teenage boy in moments where you compliment him – and during sex?

Well, Gyutaro nearly passes out the first time you compliment his body. It takes so much courage for him to show you himself nude, if only because he’s so scared of the way you’ll react. What if you think he’s ugly, or weird, or repulsive? What if you wince at the sight of him, or cower when he tries to touch you or make you touch him?

He’s so scared, so when you run your hands along his arms and tell him he’s handsome, he’s staring at you with wide eyes. He’s simultaneously hateful and in love with the vulnerability you make him feel, so please, please compliment him during sex.

He needs the validation that you like him, that he’s making you feel good, and while he’ll never actually say it aloud, your words turn him on more than you know. Just hearing his name roll off your tongue has his eyes rolling backwards, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch you, to feel your soft skin. He loves when you tell him sweet things about his body; tell him he’s attractive, that you love how strong he is, that you love how muscular his arms are.

Tell him his eyes are pretty, that you love tunneling your fingers through his hair while he fucks you with his tongue, that you love the way his fingers stretch you out and get you seeing stars.

Compliment the things that he does in bed; tell him that you love how he growls and bites at your neck with those sharp teeth of his, that you love when he manhandles you and grunts into your ear as he rolls his hips into yours.

And of course, tell him how he makes you feel – he’ll groan your name and his hips will stutter if you say his cock feels so – so good Gyutaro, mm please! Need more, need more of you –

Tell him that he feels so good inside of you, that he’s going to make you come because it’s all too much, and you’ll see him physically freeze up, his eyes wide and a bit of drool slipping from the corner of his mouth because god, are you talking about him?

Moan his name and make a show of writhing around underneath him, arching your back and gasping out that he’s so big! T’s too much Gyu, gonna make me come!

Tell him anything and everything that comes to your mind, the more depraved the better. He likes to hear you become reduced to incoherent whimpers because of him, and with each praise that slips past your lips, Gyutaro feels his confidence slowly rise until he’s fucking into you with reckless abandon.

He’ll be bearing his teeth and whispering the filthiest things into your ear, the confidence boosting his system like nothing else. He’s calling you his, possessive petnames right and left as he practically abuses your cunt with his cock, pounding into you with such fervor that it’s almost like he’s trying to mold your pussy into the shape of his cock.

He’s demanding you tell him how he feels; growls of tell me what you want me to do to you filling the space between you, the panting breaths and moans rushing into the empty air. He’s telling you to take it, f-fuck, so damn tight, do I make you this tight, huh?

He wants you to mindlessly agree, to clutch onto his body and squeeze around him, milking him for absolutely everything he can give to you until you’re spasming around his cock, coming all over him and whimpering underneath him, your pretty eyes staring up at him with tears beading in your lashes from the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving to you.

And if you were to worship any part of his body?

He’s not sure what you’re doing at first – why are you sinking to your knees and moving so slowly in front of him? You’re taking your time with his cock, letting your eyes gaze over every single inch of him, the attention making his neck flush and embarrassing him. And yet, he doesn’t stop you – because when you whisper out that he’s so pretty, I love your cock Gyutaro, he nearly malfunctions, his nails digging into his palms as his hips involuntarily jerk, his cock bobbing slightly with the motion.

He wants you to kiss every inch of him, to suckle on his tip and let your tongue dip into his hypersensitive slit, the sensation making him gasp sharply and his eyes close tightly.

He wants you to gently fondle his balls, to whisper against his skin in between licks against his shaft that you wanna taste you, can I please taste you Gyu? Wanna make you come, you look so pretty when you do…

He’ll let you do anything you damn well please when you’ve got him like this – his eyes are watching your every move, his breath hitched, his heart fluttering in his chest as his orgasm comes much too soon, the emotional weight of your words and adoring actions making him desperate to give you the cum you claim you need.

He just really, really likes when you give him positive attention in the bedroom, so please narrate everything you’re feeling. He wants to know every possible detail, and he’ll strive to keep touching and pleasing you until you’re screaming his name and a jumbled, slurred series of yes and please and I love you.

Breast Fixation

Gyutaro, to put it lightly, develops a sort of fascination with your chest. He has no sexual experience with women, and consequently has neither felt nor seen a living, naked woman’s breasts before.

Of course, he’s been curious; victims he’s in the middle of devouring who’s clothing has slipped down in the process of his meal, where their tits are hanging out of the fabric, looking soft and supple and perfect to touch. He’ll reach out and halfheartedly squeeze, but the dead flesh isn’t the same as a living, breathing woman’s – besides, his hunger is too strong for him to really process how soft, pliable, and squishy it is.

And so, once he has you, someone to fantasize about and imagine naked (frequently), Gyutaro is suddenly very interested in seeing what you look like shirtless. He’s always paid close attention to the way your chest looks in your kimonos; the fabric tightening through there, as if your breasts were practically begging to be freed, exposed to the world and awaiting eyes like his.

He’s always noticed the way your top exposes the line of your cleavage when you bend down to pick something up, your tits pressed together by your arms while he gets a front row seat that leaves his pants feeling tight and his throat dry.

Before he steals you away, frequent nights are spent with the image of you straddling his lap playing through his mind. He’ll imagine the way you’d shimmy out of your top, exposing your breasts to his greedy eyes, the soft flesh sitting only a few tantalizing inches away from his face.

He’d focus in on your nipples, imagining the way they’d slowly pebble from the cold air, growing tight and taut while he’s left to drool, his fingers begging to reach out and pinch, twist, and pull. He’ll imagine the way you’d look down at him with a soft smile, cupping his cheeks and asking in that soft, breathy whisper of yours if he’d touch them please Gyutaro, I want you to play with me…

He wouldn’t need to be told twice, his hands immediately reaching up to cautiously grope and squeeze.

He’s nervous at first, his touches hesitant, but as he wraps a hand around your left breast and squeezes lightly, the sigh you make in response has him gulping and squeezing harder, his other hand following suit until he’s massaging and groping at your tits like they’re his personal stress balls.

He’s painfully hard below you, his cock desperate for stimulation, but as you push his head closer to your breasts he nearly loses his mind; he’s quick to envelope a nipple into his mouth, closing his eyes while he sucks and licks at the bud as you hum and praise him, little whispers of mmm, just like that baby going straight to his cock.

He twitches with every little keen you make, and this fantasy carries over into his sex life with you. Very, very early on you’ll notice that he’s always staring at your tits whenever you’re intimate with him.

When he’s bathing you, he’s staring and gulping, not doing well to hide the way he’s very clearly ogling.

When you’re changing, he’s quickly glancing away after you catch him stealing looks at you, his cheeks pink as he holds his hands over the tent slowly forming in his pants.

And once you start fucking?

Well, you’ve noticed his fascination, and you’ll capitalize on it. Grab his cock and trace your nipples with the tip, and just watch the way he shivers, his eyes unable to look away while he whispers a gravelly fuck under his voice.

Play with your tits as you wait for him to undress, pouting up at him and begging him to hurry up, to come fuck you please, you’re too horny to wait.

Push your breasts together and ask him to fuck them, telling him it’ll feel so good, and how you want him to leave his cum all over the soft skin.

Purposefully bounce more than you actually need when he fucks you while you’re on your back, so that the fat jiggles even more and watch the way his eyes widen, his pupils dilating as he fucks into you with new fervor.

Grope and squeeze at them as he hovers over you in missionary, and you’ll feel the way his thrusts grow faster, harder, more desperate, his eyes trained on the way you work at the soft, supple flesh.

The root of his love for your breasts really comes from just how soft they are; he’s not used to anything as welcoming or comforting as your chest, and when you let him rest his head there, fall asleep behind you with a hand cupping one, letting him idly suckle at a nipple as you card your fingers through his hair, how can Gyutaro not grow to love them?

And love them he will – the copious amounts of love marks, bruises and hickeys littering the sensitive skin will make his obsession more than obvious, as will the way he essentially creams his pants the first time his fingers brush against them.

The large stain against the fabric and the slack-jawed, red-faced expression he gives you will have you more than aware that just a simple flash of your tits will leave Gyutaro puddy in your hands, willing to do anything for you.

Hand Holding

It’s not really a kink, but as your sexual relationship with Gyutaro progresses, you’ll find that more often than not he manages to snake his hand into yours. When he’s fucking you in missionary, hips smacking against you fast and hard, he’s holding your hands above your head, gritting his teeth and whining in your ear because you’re too – too fucking tight, shit, ‘m gonna come, you want that? You want my cum in you?

He’ll start off with his hand wrapped around your wrist, but as the sex continues and he gets closer to his orgasm, he’ll switch to interlacing his fingers with yours, pressing your hand hard against the mattress, the tendons in his hands and forearms flexing as his abs and balls clench up, warm cum flooding your cunt and leaving him gasping your name.

When he’s got you bent over, pretty ass on display as he stuffs you full with his cock, he’ll lean over you, a large hand covering one of yours, dwarfing yours and overwhelming you even more, his body literally covering every inch of yours.

Even when perched on top of him, grinding against him and biting your lip because it feel so very good, he’ll alternate between cupping the globes of your ass and catching your hand, clutching it in his hand as he tries to keep his grounding and not come too quickly.

Frankly, it’s almost unconscious – he doesn’t actively realize it’s happening until you point it out to him, in which case he’ll grow defensive, telling you that you’re wrong and mistaken, embarrassed to admit that he naturally does something so human, so weak and gentle.

But really, it’s just another way to extend the intimacy with you – you’re so pretty and sweet and so very lovely, and though he’s kidnapped you and forced you into some twisted form of a relationship with him, there’s something about the moments where he’s inside of you that leaves him feeling fuzzy, warm, wanted. And perhaps it’s the centuries of neglect and self-hatred that lead him to desperately chase that feeling of security and acceptance, or perhaps it’s just natural instinct left over from his human days.

Regardless, Gyutaro will almost exclusively only ever orgasm if your hand is somehow touching his – he needs that intimacy to let himself finish, emptying himself inside of you while clutching onto you, keeping you there and steady and still, stopping you from squirming away or escaping when he’s trying to give you his cum, gifting you with the most intimate, personal thing he could. And when he’s coming, he’s squeezing at your hand, hard.

The pleasure is just so overwhelming, and he needs something to grasp onto, something to keep him grounded and keep him from rutting into you and humping you into overstimulation, his cries and warbled moans sounding pitiful. He doesn’t mean to crush your hand, but sometimes he’ll hold so tightly that you wind up with big finger-shaped bruises across your palms and the back of your hands, the sight making Gyutaro ashamed because he hadn’t meant to hurt you, but also pleased because now he’s marked you.

There’ll be a constant reminder of him every time you look down at your hands, every time you do basic tasks or touch things. It's a thought that makes him weirdly smug, and so while Gyutaro will often try to deny your accusations of him always holding your hand during sex, but he knows it’s true.

(But really, you should be grateful it’s just your hand – at least it’s not your throat, where he’s much likelier to lose control.)

But even outside of when he orgasms, Gyutaro really, really likes to hold your hands. His favorite time to consciously do it is when he’s got you perched in his lap, his chin resting on your shoulder while you lean back against his chest.

He’ll want you fully nude so that he’s free to explore and roam your body with his hands, occasionally pinching at your stomach or groping at your breast. He wants you sat on his cock, the hard length nestled inside of you while you both simply bask in each other’s presence, him turning to bury his nose against your neck and deeply inhaling, his cock twitching inside of you.

Gyutaro grows a penchant for cockwarming with you as time goes by, because while he doesn’t always want to fuck you (though it’s not too terribly difficult to persuade him – just say please and he’s putty in your hands, so frantic to get his cock out that he’s ripping at the bandages of his pants) there’s something about the intimacy of being inside you but just cuddling you or holding you that satisfies his clinginess.

Plus, this way he can indulge in the feeling of your cunt in a non-sexual way – you’re just so warm and inviting, taking his breath away every time without fail, the sensation so lovely and foreign to him that he wants to spend every possible moment inside of you, even if he’s not fucking you stupid. And the whole time he's lodged inside you like this, his fingers are wrapped around yours, marveling at the size different and tracing the lines and patterns on your hand.

They’re just so much softer and better than his – so innocent and not capable of so much death and destruction as his. You’re just so cute, in a way that makes him crazy, and he’d be stupid to not take advantage of having someone like you to touch and taste and share his best.

And Gyutaro is many things, but stupid is not one of them.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Cock Worship

Although Gyutaro isn’t an inherently selfish lover, he can’t deny that having you fawn over him gets him hot under the collar, his pants growing uncomfortably tight and his mouth feeling dry. There’s just something about the idea of you worshipping him that gets him equal parts mortified and horribly aroused.

To have all of your attention on him in a non-sexual context steals his breath away, making him struggle to seem interesting and cool and attractive, even if he knows he isn’t. And so, in a sexual context this is only amplified – he wants you to like him, to find his body and him generally attractive, and to have you blatantly doing that during sex would make his head spin, embarrassment eating him alive even as he enjoys every second of it.

And to have you worship any part of his body is wonderful, but to have you worship between his legs?

Well, his cock’s not especially pretty, and he knows it – it’s long, long enough that it’s right on the border between hurting and pleasurable when he sinks inside all the way to the hilt. It’s sensitive, always leaking precum so it’s sticky and wet and glistening, with a set of heavy, swollen balls sprinkled with black hairs hung right below.

It’s intimidating and will leave you a bit nervous of how he’ll possibly fit inside of you, but Gyutaro’s eyes roll to the back of his head when he sees and feels your fingers wrap around him, pumping and flicking your wrist at the tip, the sensation of you jerking him off making his hips buck up into the air.

Having you give him long, slow, lazy pumps of your fist while you list off all the reasons you love his cock in between sloppy, wet kisses would have Gyutaro coming in mere minutes, the attention and praise going directly between his legs.

When you’re on your knees in front of him, make him shudder and flush by gripping him, making a show of licking from the base to the tip, suckling on the swollen, red tip and flicking your tongue against his slit, dipping in slightly and feeling the way he throbs in your mouth.

Move down to fondle and suck at his balls – if you’re able to fit a whole one in your mouth, you’ll hear a strangled s-stop, stop stop stop ‘m gonna come too fast, the pleasure literally too much for him to handle.

Give him the erotic sight of you tracing the outline of your lips with his tip, smearing precum all over them so that they’re glistening with a clear, off-white sheen. Rub the outside of your cheek against his length while you stare up at him, licking your lips and smiling, and you’ll literally see his face turning red, his sharp teeth biting at his lip and drawing blood because fuck, you’re so sexy and provocative and having you say that you love his cock is making his heart flutter.

And when he’s inside you, thrusting in and out and making you clench and tighten up, purposefully flex the muscles, making everything tighter and more intense, telling him that he deserves the tightest you can offer, and feel the way he immediately busts inside of you, the groan that forces its way past his lips sounding pained and desperate and pathetic.

Which brings us to another major facet of his enjoyment of cock worship – please worship his cum. It’s a bit runny and thin, shooting out of him in long spurts, always wickedly warm and getting absolutely everywhere. Let him come inside you – whine out a please give it to me Gyutaro, need you to come for me, please please want your cum!

He’s stuffing you full every time he fucks you, those yellow eyes of his eagerly watching it ooze out of you after he’s pulled out. When you’re sucking and licking at him, let him push your head as far down as you can go, sending rope after rope down your throat, his nails digging into your scalp as he gives a few sad last spurts, only a drop or so managing to hit your tongue.

Let him pull out of your mouth and give himself a few good tugs, cum splattering all over your face while he groans your name and a slurred take it. Lick it off your lips and look up at him with cum all over your cheeks and chin, and you’ll see the way he snarls and throws you onto the makeshift bed he shares with you, immediately ripping your thighs apart and diving into you like a man starved, the wet noises of his tongue diving between your folds absolutely depraved.

You’re just so, so very wonderful when you’re worshipping him, so please do – one the bright side, it’s the absolute fastest way to get him to come, just as long as you sound like you really mean it.

Spitting

This kink is one that takes both you and Gyutaro by surprise. It happens very suddenly, and it takes a moment for both of you to process exactly what’s happened, Gyutaro’s spit sitting against your tongue and tasting like him.

It’s a manifestation of his possessiveness over you – you’re his. His little human, his lovely woman, his pretty cunt to touch and fuck and bury himself inside of for hours on end. And so, when he’s got you folded into a mating press, strong arms keeping your thighs pinned to your chest with absolutely no wiggle room, your face all screwed up in pleasure and your occasional gasps of his name, how can Gyutaro not want to mark you as his?

You’ll find that he often uses those possessive nicknames for you in the bedroom too, always going on and on about how you’re his girl, his cunt, his love.

And really, spitting in your mouth and on you is just a natural progression of this sentiment. He starts off with spitting onto your breasts – a glob of saliva landing on a sensitive nipple, making everything slick as he pinches and toys with the area, hearing you keen above him.

Then it’ll transition to him spitting onto your collarbone, rubbing the wetness over the bone, leaning down to suck dark hickeys against your skin, getting the area even more sticky with his saliva.

He’ll move on to spitting directly onto your cunt after that, spreading your pretty folds and letting the spit land right over your quivering hole, loving the way you jerk slightly at the weird sensation. It makes it easier when he fingers you, just that extra layer of wetness making his fingers glide in and out of you, pulling moans and whines from your lips.

He’ll spit at your asshole when he’s got you bent over, thumb rubbing against the hole and only slightly dipping in, enjoying the way you yelp and get all tense.

It’s only after he’s grown comfortable with spitting all over your body that he finally ends up seeing your open mouth under him as he fucks you with fast, harsh thrusts, hovering above you and staring down at you without blinking. He’ll spit directly onto your tongue, staring with panting breaths, before telling you in that familiar strained voice to swallow, his eyes watching the way your throat bobs as you do what he says.

It’s hot, really – the kind of thing that makes his cock twitch and bob, the idea that you have his saliva inside of you making something in his gut sit pleasantly.

And if you were to spit in his mouth, Gyutaro would actually fucking whimper. He wants you to be possessive over him, to want him all to yourself, to think of him as yours – and if you were to be riding him, hips clapping against his as you milk him for everything he’s worth, Gyutaro would gladly open his mouth wide, waiting with baited breath and shut eyes to feel your warm spit against his tongue. He’ll swallow for you, even opening his mouth again in case you’re feeling generous and want to give him more.

He just thinks it’s hot, and he’d be more than willing to bring spitting into your non-sexual lives too – it’s just so intimate and meaningful, don’t you agree?

BIGGEST FANTASY:

As a general rule, Gyutaro is a massive fan of touching you.

There’s quite literally nothing about your body or yourself that could ever turn him off; he thinks every inch of you is exquisite, no matter what your personal qualms may be. And because he thinks of you as something so wonderful and sweet and his, he finds everything that your body does equally as arousing as your pretty face.

And so, while he’s never given it much thought, the moment he smells blood in the air around you, he’s immediately fighting off both his appetite and the intense fear coursing through him because why the fuck are you bleeding?

He’s not sure what’s going on initially, until he follows the blood source and finds it to be between your trembling legs. You’re scared, understandably, at why he’s so suddenly yanking your legs apart, eyes boring right into your crotch, but when he starts ripping at the cloth covering you, there’s not much you can do.

And so, once you explain what’s going on after his frantic why are you bleeding is asked in a panicked voice, suddenly Gyutaro is stiffening up, his thoughts running wild. He’d always been just slightly curious – you smell so sweet, and while there’s no part of him that desires to eat you, there’s something about the way your blood smells, the way you smell…

He quickly learns that having sex with you while you’re on your period is his absolute favorite. You’re so sensitive and pliable, your face screwing up at even the slightest presses of his fingers against your clit, your pussy always wet with blood, easy to slip his fingers in and out of.

He loves it, and the way your smell grows even more pronounced during this time has his head spinning, and fuck the taste –

He thinks he’s lost his mind the first time his lips touch your pussy with a smear of your blood across it, the sweet and metallic taste making his hips involuntarily jerk, his orgasm dangerously close already.

He’s always, always willing to pleasure you while you’re menstruating, to the point where he’s actively offering once he smells that familiar tinge of metal in the air, practically begging you with those half lidded eyes to let me make you feel good, yeah? I’ll be gentle, or at least I’ll try.

He’s careful with his motions at first, though it doesn’t last long – his fingers press into your thighs, nails dangerously close to piercing the skin, while his tongue laps at your cunt like a man starved.

Besides, aren’t orgasms healthy for women, especially during this time of the month? He’s heard so from the other Oirans (in hushed, embarrassed whispers), and what kind of a lover would he be if he didn’t attempt to take care of your every need?

You winced, the cramps in your lower stomach making shifting your sitting position difficult. Your period had arrived very suddenly – it was just starting, and a quick swipe of your fingers below your panties had you sighing in frustration. The dank light of the lair was bright enough to show the red stain of your fingers as you retracted your hand, and with a dejected sloop of your shoulders you leaned back against the dirt wall. Eyes closed, you let your arms wrap around your stomach, resigned to the knowledge that you’ll bleed out through your clothes and onto the dirt ground below before you’d ever ask Gyutaro for sanitary supplies.

Not that he’d say no – although, maybe that scared you more.

Daki scrunched up her nose as she registered the smell, sending you a look. “What’s that stench?”

You bit your lip, quickly apologizing. “I’m sorry, it should be over in…”

Unsure of how much Daki knew of menstruation, you left the question unanswered, instead wincing as another cramp rolled through. She grunted, her brow twitching as she crossed her arms. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

You glanced at her, begging with your eyes for her to leave it alone, and despite her scowl, she merely sighed and pivoted on her heel, jumping up to race out of the lair and into the night air far above. You sighed as well, closing your eyes and relaxing as much as you could.

Your relaxation was cut short, however, as a loud bang and a voice wailed out, “Why is there blood? What’s going on?”

Gyutaro had arrived, and as you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of him rushing forward, grabbing a knee in each hand and spreading your legs with a surprising amount of force.

“From here…” He muttered, head leaning down as his gaze focused on your clothed pussy, the kimono and underwear you’d been dressed in earlier that day already seeped through with blood. The red stained the fabric, sending Gyutaro into a further state of panic.

Nails dug into his neck and chest as he stared wildly at you, leaning deeply into your personal space as he growled, “What happened?”

You shrank back, stuttering out, “I – I’m menstruating.”

Gyutaro blinked, his breath heavy with the panic still running through him. “What?”

“I’m menstruating. I’m okay, I’m – I’m not injured.” Your voice was weak, but Gyutaro didn’t seem to notice.

“What is menstruation?” He asked, the scratching sound of his fingers against his neck still prominent in your ears. “Well?”

“It’s um, a sign that I’m fertile…” You whispered, fear squeezing at your heart.

Gyutaro stared at you for a moment, before glancing down between your legs. “Are you in pain? Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, hoping he’d believe the lie.

A moment passed, before he visibly gulped. He slowly lied down on his stomach, his hands frozen for a second before suddenly ripping at your clothing. The area surrounding your pussy was ripped off, exposing yourself to the cold air as you gasped and shivered. The sudden motions were over before you can blink, Gyutaro’s eyes trained on your bloodstained folds.

He looked like a child in a candy store; dilated pupils, his breathing heavy, lips parted enough to allow drool to pool at the edges. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to not flinch when he was this close to you, especially as you saw his razor sharp teeth.

You yelped when a finger reached out to very lightly brush over your pussy, his skin just barely grazing your own. You bit your lip.

He repeated his ministration, adding a bit more pressure. A moan slipped past your lips as his finger passed over your clit, and immediately you clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide as his gaze snaped back up to you. His face was bright red, you realized, the blush heavy over his cheeks as licked at his lips. With his gaze still locked on yours, he pressed back on that same spot, your clit oversensitive and making you lowly groan, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he began rubbing up and down the area.

“G-gyutaro…” You whined out, tucking your lower lip under your teeth as you lightly squirmed. He watched with rapt attention. You seemed to be enjoying yourself – do you like being touched while you’re ‘menstruating’? As long as you weren’t injured with all this blood – this blood, that was such an intoxicating, delicious scent, the best thing he’s ever smelled.

With a small, wobbly smile up at you, Gyutaro suddenly dove in, lips pressing against your folds as you gasped and jerked your hips, sending him in even deeper so that his nose brushed against your clit. You gasped his name, encouraging him to dart his tongue out, your blood immediately registered on his taste buds. His eyes blew wide, his hips jerking forward against the ground, the sudden wave of arousal because of your scent making his knees feel weak. He moaned around your skin, his tongue eagerly licking and getting to work against your sensitive skin.

Groans and whimpers vibrated against you, his sounds rivaling your own as you moaned and reached a hand down to run through his hair. Gyutaro’s grip on your thighs tightened at the feeling, and when you tugged a bit at the roots, the growl that left his lips had your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Gyu-“ You started, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensitivity of his tongue on you. It was too much – the pleasure too acute, but as a hand left the plush of your thighs and instead snaked down to press against your clit, you gasped.

A strangled moan slipped past your lips as Gyutaro worked his finger in circles against your bundle of nerves, his tongue still licking and slurping against your folds. The combination of the stimulation had your head spinning, the sensation nearly too much, and as you whined out his name and dug your fingers even more harshly against his scalp, Gyutaro couldn’t help but moan in response.

You tasted so fucking good – the best blood he’s ever feasted on. Sweet, yet savory, a taste entirely your own. His cock was achingly hard in his pants, pressing against the bandaged cloth as he ground his hips against the dirt floor of the lair, the pressure not nearly enough to relieve the terrible ache. He wanted more more more – more of you, more of your perfect little pussy, more of the sounds slipping past your lips, more of the taste of your blood.

Soon you were shaking, thighs trembling as your orgasm crashed through you, your head throwing back as you cried out, slick and blood mixed together on Gyutaro’s tongue, chin and fingers. His thumb never stopped its motions, continuing the bliss as you slowly came down from your high, your clit nearly rubbed raw as the overstimulation began hitting you.

Squirming, you tried to push his head away from your cunt, but Gyutaro’s growl had you stopping quickly.

Pulling back slightly (only enough to speak), Gyutaro warned in a low voice out of breath, “Don’t move, stay still or I’ll make you come so much you cry.”

You only gulped and nodded, the feeling of his nails pressing into your thigh making you shiver, your hips jerking at the overwhelming sensation of Gyutaro’s ministrations.

“Tastes so good, so so so good –“ Gyutaro moaned, the sound muffled against your skin as he gulped and sucked at your pussy, nearly making out with your delicate folds. You whined, squeezing your eyes shut tightly – it was too much.

But for Gyutaro, it’d never be enough; after all, how could he let such a delicacy between your legs be taken for granted? Especially when you looked so pretty all panting and bloody once he’d fucked you with his tongue, fingers and cock more times than you could count.

#yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere gyutaro #gyutaro x reader #kny smut #gyutaro smut #_gyutaro #_kny #_lee's profiles

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miss-atena · 19 days

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Would it be cannibalism if a wolf beastmen ate a sheep beastmen

Fantasy cannibalism dilemmas my beloveds... We discussed this on the server Angel, I have a couple of thoughts on this, so buckle up!

TW: fantasy cannibalism and discussions involving it

Okay so, we know for a fact that there are different types of beastmen. That is a given. What we need to know and understand is if that instantly means they are the same species and different races, or if different animals = different species. My bet is on the latter, which could ALSO explain Merfolk.

Okay so, if we consider this, we need to think about how their societies evolved. We know beastmen are all around the twst world and that different species have things that remind of their animals (Jack talking about how Wolf beastmen mate for life, Ruggie and the fact Hyena beastmen have a strong pack sense, etc.), so if we assume this stays for the predatory nature of predator beastemen over herbivore beastmen, much like it seems to stay for merfolk, the "beastmen cannibalism" and true beastmen cannibalism could be not seen as a crime, but more of a taboo.

Cuz like, think with me: If a Neanderthal ate some Homo Erectus, that wouldn't be the cannibalism we know of. Why? Because it isn't eating one of the same species, but of the same notion of sentience. That doesn't fall over what humans call cannibalism, which is the consumption of one's same species, but it is just as much of a taboo. Considering this, we can assume the same would be for a predator beastmen to eat a herbivore beastmen. They are NOT the same species, they evolved from completely different beings, but they do share sentience and the ability to consent. If the Sheep beastmen consent to the Wolf beastmen consuming their body, then there is nothing that in human laws would be considerably legally wrong. They are DIFFERENT SPECIES.

However, I do believe it would be considered morally wrong, as it is something seen as primitive, and as an animal characteristic. It will be seen as you acting on primitive behavior. Again, this is for beastmen. I do believe that Merfolk, as different people with a different culture, sees it differently, much like how in our world we have different views on different acts depending on where we live (see euthanasia and abortion for an example).

TL;DR If a Wolf beastmen ate a sheep beastmen it wouldn't be cannibalism as much as it would be a taboo act

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #tena ramble #tena talk #thanks for the request!#ang33333333l #dear moots <3 #twst hcs #twst theory #tw canibalism #fantasy cannibalism

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justletmereadmycomics · 4 months

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CW for descriptive speaking about body horror, blood, and overall lack of grammar tl;dr the average painful-turning-into-a-monster-transformation-sequence media isn't whumpy enough and people need to dive more into shit like turning into merfolk and mutating into weird hybrids that are in the uncanny valley of "feels like my body but not" also please note that this is all just my opinion and experience in media consumption and you are free enjoy what you like; im just bored and felt like rambling with 0 grammar or punctuation today.

hey guys I like seeing people go through intense painful physical transformations with an affect on their mental state that either makes them scared of them selves or forces them to do horrible things that also scare them and can I just say that werewolves are so underwhelming like yeah sure you get taller and turn into a buff ass furry boo hoo go cry about it like most of the time you're not even aware and it only lasts for a fucking night

give me shit like turning into a siren/merperson where they have to feel themself molting and their skin squeezing on their body as scales start to grow and they start mindlessly scratching every where from the pain when uh oh your legs are failing but you can't think about that now until whoopsie daisy your lower limbs are melting together and your pants are magically whooshed away once you're past the nakey parts also did I mention the wonderful possibility of growing fins everywhere and experiencing those tear through your muscles and skin whilst they grow on your back and arms and already painful and foreign feeling tail and also your vocal cords changing to be able to produce siren song shit in a way that makes your throat feel like its being mauled from the inside out oh yeah and also having your eyes fall out and regrown wouldn't that be a fun idea anyways vampires are about the same except a little better than werewolves bc they at least have the possibility of dealing with "the hunger" tm and way more weaknesses that can make them miserable like not being able to be in the sun or eat food anymore bc your body can't handle it one of the better examples ive seen is the one in ROTTMNT: The Movie, where (be warned of spoilers) characters are "possessed", so to speak, and this shit goes on

its a very good movie, highly recommend it (the sereis has two seasons, and I haven't found the movie off of Netflix) also blood and struggling to adjust to a now permanent mental impairment/disadvantage/damage in a sense of "you're not human anymore and so you now have to deal with [blank] thought processes" (eg. someone gaining dragon shit would grow an affinity to hoarding things, not noticing such until their home is incredibly cluttered with piles of shiny items and hating themself for doing something so "inhuman")

things that ive seen that fall in the good transformation category are: demons* birds work most of the time, but you have to give them a beak and shit. also the wings can't just grow out of them painlessly.** most fantasy based anthros, really.*** most mutations seen in TMNT shows (that shits known to be painful bc it alters your DNA mostly through science rather than the normal mystics) bugs *only horns and a tail? weak. give 'em goofy legs and a snout or some shit, spin in a few animal traits just for fun. mental side effects that are nice for these guys tend to be a sudden lust for darkness (or just a sudden intense lust) **I recommend something like their arms falling off, OR something similar to the process in Haibane Renmei (tw for blood and minor body horror). An alternate option that I haven't seen would be to have the arms morph into wings themselves, but none of that grow feathers and get little longer bullshit. Character should feel their bones changing, the flesh forming to create a new limb and feathers piercing their skin like needles. Yes feathers are regularly soft, but imagine having a hundreds of tiny pinprick like things poking out of you and getting longer.

***this does not include fairies and unicorns. The only acceptation for these is character having weird magic fluxes and this becoming an effect of such. for example, if character is becoming a fairy, they will feel themself being compressed as wings either grow from their back or are summoned in a blast of magic that basically cuts them open where the wings "attach" so to speak.

#justletmetalk #if y'all have something to say to defend werewolves being cool or something come at me #you can't say anything about having ears and a tail in daytime and shit that's just fucking annoying #you can hide that easy as fuck all you have to do is worry about like super strength and even then plenty of superheroes deal with that fin #so why shouldn't you #werewolves #vampires #monsters #merfolk #mythical creatures #siren #sirens #whump #transformation whump #tw mentions of body horror #cw mentions of body horror #cw body horror #cw body modification #body mods are a whole other rabbit hole but I love those too

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fallenasleepyetagain · 2 years

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Fairytale - Dreammare fic

‼️Do NOT tag as incest‼️

Fandom - UTMV/UTAU

Genre(s) - Fantasy, romance, MLM, strangers to lovers, strangers to enemies, forbidden love, human versions, whump (emotional + physical)

Characters - Dream, King Nightmare, Cross, Error, Blue (mentioned), Remus Solana (mentioned), Aislinn Solana (mentioned), unnamed little brother (mentioned)

Pairing(s) - Dream/Nightmare, Dream/Blue (implied)

CW/TW - Alcohol consumption, themes and thoughts of suicide at beginning of story, death, shitty parents, blood

Word count - a lot (4254)

The dragon roared, beating its large, bat-like wings as it flew out of its cave and perched itself atop the tower.

The sun slowly revealed itself over the dense forest that surrounded the large tower. Dream groaned, holding his stomach in pain. He languished as the sun slowly filtered through the windows in his room.

His stomach rumbled, empty and starving. God, he hated waking up in the morning. He ground his teeth as he hesitantly got out of bed. He sat on his bed for a long while, feeling the sun on his brown skin and the fabric of his bed.

Contemplating it all was a usual activity for him in the morning. Existence was exhausting and Dream wondered what the whole point of it all was. All he did was wake up, eat, try to fill the daylight hours the best he could and then start all over again the next morning.

He couldn't go out and meet anyone, the stupid dragon wouldn't let him leave. And nobody wanted to visit him because of said dragon.

He wondered why he bothered to continue living if there was nothing to do with his life.

Then his stomach growled at him. Loudly.

He should eat something before he contemplated his life. Hunger did things to people and not everyone realized it.

He trudged into the kitchen and whipped open one of the cabinets that held his food. The kitchen was above the living room, and below his bedroom. Jesus, there were so many stairs to climb in this damned tower.

He broke a piece of bread off of a large loaf and wandered over to the window. It faced the forest, and towards the kingdom he used to live in. The castle was barely visible in the light.

He looked down at the entranceway from the forest to his tower, watching. He knew that the peasant boy who brought his food wouldn't be here for another month or so, but he did hope.

That peasant boy was so handsome, with his big blue eyes and sweet smile, how he hadn't been married off yet was beyond Dream.

He sighed, grabbing an apple and then closing the cabinet and going downstairs. As much as his heart longed to meet, to love the peasant boy who fed him, he knew it would never happen.

He was royalty, and he had already dishonored his family enough. Marrying a peasant would be the last straw for his parents.

There were other people in the world, someday he'd come across one just as attractive, maybe more attractive, than his peasant boy.

He bit into the apple and scowled. Too bad he was stuck up in this stupid tower. People had to come to him instead of him coming to them. It was driving him crazy.

He wanted to go out and be someone. Do things! He didn't think that was too much to ask.

He sat up and opened the window before throwing the apple core out of the window as hard as he could. He popped his back and climbed all the stairs back to his bedroom. He opened the window there and breathed in the cold, fresh air.

He changed into a new pair of clothes, he didn't need pajamas, and placed the old ones in a small basket on the floor. Once the basket was full, he would clean all the clothes inside. But it would probably be another couple of days before he needed to do so.

He went back downstairs to the living room and stared into a wall as he decided what to do for the day. He didn't feel like sewing or poking the beast with trying to get his arrows that he shot a couple of days ago.

He could leave his tower, but if the dragon decided that he had gone too far, then he would be picked up and tossed back into his room. And the dragon had been particularly pissy lately and Dream would rather not push his buttons.

He sighs. Leaning back into his chair, sinking into the soft feathers that made it. Maybe he might work on his quilt. That stupid quilt was massive, he had been working on it since he was shoved up into that place.

He closed his eyes, tapping his foot against the wooden ground. He could read something? He wasn't a book person, but it didn't hurt him to flip through a book or two.

He walked down the stairs to the library. Most of the books were collecting dust and were old but there were a couple of stories that he liked.

They were fiction, of course. Dream wasn't a super studious guy, he loved the stories of heroes going on adventures and exploring and...romance. Oh man, did he love romance.

He found himself related more to the damsels, who usually found themselves helpless due to things out of their control, rather than the heroes. Sometimes he wondered if he were a lady if his rescue would be easier.

He wouldn't mind being a lady. He quite liked the ball gowns they wore, among other things. Maybe, just maybe, he'd try one on. Yeah...he'd like to do that before he died.

He grabbed one of his favorite stories, it had a couple of renditions, some made for younger audiences, but he had one of the longest, richest retellings of it.

He pulled it off of the shelf and threw himself on the comfy bench that rested underneath the window. The sunlight gathered in the room, shining on him and the book. His fingers ran over the leather cover, a small, lovelorn smile appearing on his face.

He opened the book and began to read.

He wasn't sure how long time had passed since he began, but once he got to the third chapter, each chapter had about twenty pages in it, he decided it was time for lunch.

Or his stomach told him that. It yelled and growled, demanding some kind of substance. He sighed, placing a small piece of fabric to save his spot before going up to the kitchen.

His breakfast wasn't particularly filling, he needed a large lunch. He grabbed a couple of vegetables and fruits and began to chop them up, making them into a nice salad, and then lit the small metal stove and began to start cooking some meat from an animal.

He nearly devoured his salad, his stomach gurgling for more, more!

The meat was done cooking after a little bit and Dream put out the fire in a haste. He devoured the meat, leaving only the bone.

It, uhm, wasn't particularly good. But he didn't care. It was editable, and it was food, so he really didn't care.

Maybe he'd steal away his peasant boy to cook for him and OH MY GOD he needed to stop thinking about him.

He went back to his book and slammed his face into it. He needed to get lost in the book again. That stupid peasant boy kept coming into his thoughts unprompted and it reminded him of his shitty situation every time.

He opened his book and began to read. His fingers ran across the page, the words nearly flipping off the page.

He got another chapter or two in before he felt his eyelids get heavy. This book was good, but it always, somehow, lulled him to sleep.

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but he remembered waking up to the massive thud of the dragon falling to the ground.

It shook the entire tower to the point where he fell off the bench. Had someone...had someone finally slain that dammed dragon? He glanced outside and his heart dropped. The sun was setting. God, why did whoever this person have such terrible timing?!

The door to his castle was opened and he rushed downstairs. He was panting as he got a good look at the person who had saved him.

"I didn't kill your dragon, by the way." His voice was smoky yet modulated, like every word that he spoke came out of him was carefully chosen and calculated.

He was tall and muscular, although not as muscular as Dream. He had light brown skin, lighter than Dream's, and had stunning teal eyes. He had black hair that was short and swept to the left. He was wearing something a tad more formal for the average adventurer. It was all black with silver and teal accents. He also had a bag slung over his shoulder.

"It's not my dragon." He sputtered out, mind going blank.

"Hm. Either way, I simply nullified it, it will be completely comatose for the next day or so."

The man took a step forward and held his hand out. "We should head out now, however. We'll get to my kingdom by daylight."

"No!" He shouted, "I can't!"

"Whatever do you mea-"

Dream leaped down the rest of the stairs and shoved him out of the tower.

"You have really shitty timing!" He shouted, "Come back in the morning!" He slammed the door on his face and locked it tight.

The man shouted protests as Dream rushed up the stairs, slamming all the windows shut. When he reached his kitchen, the man, somehow, threw himself into the room.

Dream grimaced but slammed the window shut anyways. His bedroom window was perpetually closed, so he didn't have to worry about that.

"Get out!"

"Not without an explanation. Do you...not want to be saved?"

Dream was overwhelmed, heart pounding and his head was aching, "I do want to be saved, I want nothing more but I am cursed and you need to come back in the morning!"

"I am cursed as well, how did you think I got up and in here so quickly? That is nothing to be ashamed by."

Dream went to retaliate, to say something, to do something! But he couldn't. Despite all his years with his curse, this was something he couldn't get used to. The sun had gone down and his body began to disintegrate.

Flames engulfed his body, his scream echoed out, and then...

Silence.

"Hm."

Nightmare crouched down by the pile of ash that was once Prince Dream Solana, firstborn to King Remus Solana and Queen Aislinn Solana.

How fascinating.

The Phoenix Curse was very rare, he had only seen a single case of it in his lifetime. It wasn't a particularly lethal or detrimental curse. The holder of the Phoenix Curse was to die every time the sun went down, to be burnt to ash, and then rise again when the sun came up. Hence the name.

You had to be careful with people with this curse, if their ash was separated or spread out then they would not come back. If they lost a few particles, they might lose a hair or two, but nothing particularly damaging.

But even just a small handful of ash could cause them to lose limbs, or their life.

It must be scary, dying every day and not knowing if you'll wake up.

No wonder Dream was in such a hurry to lock everything down, just a small breeze could be the end.

Nightmare sauntered over to the kitchen and grabbed an empty jar. He wasn't going to wait an entire night just to take Dream home with him. He walked back over to the pile of ash and in one swift motion, put all of it into the jar.

He made sure the lid was sealed tight and began his descent. He paused, he was always a fan of libraries, and the fact that this prison had one warmed his heart.

He opened his bag, which held the entrance to a void that stored all of his shit when he was out and about. He grabbed a book that had fallen onto the floor and had a bookmark in it. He read the title and snicked slightly.

This guy.

Adorable.

He dropped it into his bag and then closed it shut. He wouldn't dare drop Dream in his bag, he had to be gentle with his husband-to-be.

He exited the tower, getting a slight glance at the dragon he knocked out. Such majestic creatures, they don't deserve this life. He freed his horse from the tree it was tied to, before hopping on.

His horse already knew where they were going, and began the long distance home. Nightmare kept a good grip on the jar, nothing would happen to Dream while in this state, he would make sure of it.

He watched the moon slowly pass overhead as he chased it back to his kingdom. He was sure his subjects would be delighted to know he was back. And with a husband too, his advisor, a man by the name of Error, a dapper young fellow, had been pushing him to find a suitor as of late.

The moon hadn't even begun setting yet when he came across the silhouette of his kingdom. He'd be home sooner than expected. Which wasn't a problem, of course. He hated having to leave home, but this was important.

He came across the gates to enter his kingdom and the guards opened them. His horse slowed to a trot, the horseshoes tapping away at the ground as he rode through town. It was late, but some people came out of their houses to welcome him back.

They weren't particularly loud, so as not to wake their children, but Nightmare didn't mind. It was the thought that counted.

He reached his castle and hopped off, giving his horse to the stable keeper and he entered the castle. Cross, his personal knight, immediately fell to his side.

"My King, how was your-"

"Silence Cross." Nightmare was not in the mood to talk, he never was, really. He wasn't sure why Cross kept trying to start conversations with him.

The two walked in silence as Nightmare walked to his room. Once he reached his quarters, he slammed the door shut, and Cross took his position of standing, waiting outside his door.

Nightmare yanked down the covers on his bed and then dumped Dream's ashes onto the bed in a neat pile. He made sure all of the dust was out of the jar before putting the empty out of his door, signaling Cross to give it to the next servant he saw.

He opened his bag and grabbed the book Dream had been reading and placed it on the bedside table. He would probably want it when he woke up.

Nightmare slugged over to his desk, already exhausted from the number of king-ly duties he had to do. He was gone for only a day, how could this have piled up so fast?

He sighed and got to work, he supposed that's why Error was pressing him to get married, he'd be able to split the work of ruling a kingdom.

He worked for lord knows how long before the sunrise entered the room. There was a sudden creek in the bed and Dream was awake, gasping for air.

Nightmare turned around in his chair and got up. He walked over to Dream who had pulled the blankets up to his chest, stomach growling.

"You...took me home with you."

"I did. You were going to come with me anyways, and I didn't want to wait all night, forgive me for ceremoniously taking you."

Dream bit at his lip, "You said you were cursed too."

"Ah. Yes, of course. I suspected you would be curious about that. I suffer from what is known as the Midnight Curse."

Nightmare watched Dream's face carefully and judging from the neutral, questioning face told Nightmare that Dream had no fucking idea what he was talking about.

"The Midnight Curse causes me to be unable to sleep unless it is a new moon. It also gives me the ability to harness the darkness around me, and make it..."

Nightmare summoned a tentacle-like shape from his back, it was a slight struggle due to the light of the morning, but he made it work and caressed Dream with it.

"Physical, if you will."

Dream shuttered and pushed the tentacle away and Nightmare made it dissipate into the air around them.

Dream paused before snickering slightly, holding a hand up to his mouth to help stop himself from laughing harder.

"Is something amusing you?" Nightmare asked him, lifting an eyebrow.

"It's just funny! Our curses are polar opposites, and yet...here we are."

Nightmare hummed, "I suppose that's true. Albeit, I was quite surprised when you turned to ash last night. It's not something you see every day."

Dream flushed slightly, "It's uh! Not fun to experience."

"I'm certain that is true. Dying and reviving every night does not sound particularly enjoyable."

Dream's stomach roared.

"And I'm also certain that you are starving. It must take a lot out of you. Breakfast should be served by now, I have work I need to get back to. Cross will show you the way down to the dining area." Nightmare turned back around and sat at his desk while gesturing to the door.

"Wait wait wait. Before I go down, I gotta know."

Dream hopped out of the bed and walked over to the corner of it, leaning against the tall, thin pillars holding up the canopy above his bed.

"What happens now?"

"I don't think I understand?"

"You uh, rescued me. What happens now that I'm free? Is there a specific thing I have to do or like?"

"I do intend on marrying you, so I suppose that will be the next course of action."

Dream sputtered, face flushed, "What?!"

"Well sure. Unless you believe that you can take the throne from your parents?"

Dream grimaced. The whole reason his parents locked him away was that they didn't want someone who was cursed to be on the throne. His little brother will take it when he comes of age.

His parents would probably fake his death, or something dramatic like that if he returned.

"No. I...I can't. My little brother will rule in my place."

"And how old is your brother?"

"Six."

Nightmare tilted his head, eyes squinted in confusion but decided to drop it. "Well. Then I will marry you and we will rule my kingdom together. This will also set up easier trade routes and help unify our kingdoms. Really, it's a win-win for everyone involved."

"But isn't it a little fast?"

"What?"

"We just met, this is our first ever proper conversation, don't you think this is moving too fast?"

Nightmare turned in his seat, face leaning against his hand. He stared at Dream, and Dream couldn't help but notice the massive eye bags under his gorgeous eyes.

"Moving too fast for what? If it were up to me, we would get married tonight to seal the deal between our kingdoms."

Dream stuttered over his words, unable to find the explanation for the disappointment and abhorrence he felt for how quickly this was happening.

"Oh, Dreamy." Nightmare's honeyed voice cooed, mocking him. He stood up and walked over to him. Nightmare was a few inches taller than he was, but it was enough of a difference for Dream to feel small and helpless when Nightmare stood before him.

"Are you upset because you think marriage is about love?"

Dream broke eye contact, no words needed.

"What are we, peasants?!" Nightmare laughed as he said it, as if it was the most unthinkable thing in the world.

Dream's stomach boiled, from both hunger and rage.

"What we have, Dream," Nightmare pointed at himself and then poked Dream's chest, "Is not built out of love. It was never about love."

Nightmare grabbed his cheeks, his demeanor going from stoic and knowledgeable to sinister and cunning.

"I did not save you to be a hero, I did not save you because I had some sort of affection for you. I saved you because you are the heir to a large, and prosperous kingdom."

Their faces were close and Dream was grinding his teeth. Fists sweaty and clamped together.

"Love, has nothing to do with it." His face faltered, "I thought you would've known that. Clearly, you are more moronic than I originally expected."

Dream's nostrils flared as he punched Nightmare in his jaw. Nightmare choked, staggering back.

"Fuck you!" Dream screamed and dashed the door. Right at that moment, Cross opened the door, a plate of waffles in his hand. Dream shoved passed him, rushing down the halls.

Nightmare called after him, before shouting at the top of his lungs to not let Dream exit the castle.

Dream sprinted down the halls, not knowing where he was going, he just had to keep moving.

Dream's legs started throbbing but he didn't stop. He refused to stop, if Nightmare wanted to lock him in a legal bind, then he'd have to try a little harder than that.

Nightmare was behind him, Dream could almost taste the rage coming off of him.

Guards and servants were being shouted at, yet no one was quite sure how to act or what to do. Dream was thankful that the only obstacle he had to worry about was Nightmare.

He leaped down a flight of stairs, just like he used to do back at his tower. The chandeliers hanging above the staircase hadn't been lit yet, which made it slightly darker. The windows made up for it, but it made Dream's heart race.

Could Nightmare manipulate the shadow in this lighting?

He and Nightmare apparently had the same thought process because before Dream had the time to react, Nightmare summoned a root-like shape from the floor in front of his foot, causing him to trip and fall down the rest of the stairs.

He did his best to tuck his head into his chest as he fell, praying he didn't break anything on the way down.

By the time he landed, the world was spinning and the taste of blood was in his mouth.

He got to his hands and knees, body quaking. Nightmare grabbed him by his hair and forced him to kneel in front of him.

Dream's blood oozed out of his mouth and Nightmare crouched down, wiping it off his chin.

"You are acting like a child, Prince Solana." Nightmare hissed out, their noses almost touching. "I don't know how long you've been locked up but I do hope you join me in the real world sometime in the near future."

"I can't believe wanting to love someone is considered childish. You must've not been given enough attention as a kid."

Nightmare's eye twitched, "If you want love, then I'll give you love, desperado."

Nightmare yanked Dream close, and much to Dream's surprise, he kissed him. It wasn't gentle or sweet, but it was passionate. It was the most passionate thing Dream had ever experienced.

Even though the anger and hate seeped through their lips, tugging on each other's hair and biting tongues and lips, but it was passionate.

It was full of emotion and it was consuming. As if, for just a moment, it was just the two of them in the world. Nothing could bother them, nothing could stop them.

It was just Dream, Nightmare, and this hate-filled kiss.

Nightmare was the first one to pull away, panting on Dream's face. His breath was ragged and face flushed from cheek to cheek.

Dream smirked through his heaving, "Was I your first kiss? Wow, you really are unloved."

Nightmare seethed as he pulled Dream up by his collar, not denying it.

A servant woman ran up to them and did a quick bow before her eyes glided to Nightmare, waiting for an order.

"Take this one to breakfast. And make sure a doctor checks his head. I don't want him any more brain-damaged than he already is." Nightmare commanded, tossing Dream in her general direction.

"Hey!" Dream started to protest before the woman grabbed his wrist and began to drag him away.

Nightmare watched until Dream and the servant were out of the room before collapsing into the stair railing. His fingers glided over his lips over and over. For his first kiss, Dream wasn't half bad.

"My lord." Error appeared next to him, as he typically did.

"Oh thank you, good god." Nightmare took the glass of red wine from Error and finished it in under two sips.

"Lambrusco." Nightmare hummed as he licked his lips. "Make sure you order more of it." He ordered as he went down all the steps and began to the throne room.

"Error, find the blacksmith with the highest quality jewels and commission him two rings. Get Dream's ring size while you're at it. Silver metal, turquoise gemstone. Or diamond if it fits into this month's budget. I don't need more people on my ass for upping taxes."

Error simply nodded, jotting all of it down on the notepad he carried around all the time.

When Nightmare entered the throne room, he shooed Error away and plopped down on the throne. He had work he needed to do, but it could wait until Dream was dead again.

He snickered at the thought.

His fingers mindlessly trailed up to his lips again and he flushed in mortification. He couldn't believe how much Dream's lips had an effect him.

He'd have to steal a kiss or two from him before tonight.

His heart raced at the idea.

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fatehbaz · 4 years

Text

the racism and imperial ambitions of Kew Gardens, plant-collecting expeditions, major scientific institutions of Europe, especially between 1700 and 1900, etc., were merely “covert”? just a little bit “problematic”?

The Natural History Museum is planing to review its collections following fears from museum bosses that they could cause offence. A review has been commissioned in the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement, which will include an audit of the statues, rooms and individual items which staff members think show "legacies of colonies, slavery and empire".

In documents [...], the executive board told staff the museum would undertake a review into room names, statues and collections [...]. According to the paper, one curator said "science, racism and colonial power were inherently entwined", and that any collections deemed "problematic" could be renamed or even removed. [...]

It is thought the review will look at the Charles Darwin collection, whose trip to the Galapagos Islands on HMS Beagle was cited by a curator as one of Britain's many "colonialist scientific expeditions". The documents said “museums were put in place to legitimise a racist ideology”, and that “covert racism, exists in the gaps between the displays”. However, speaking to The Standard, a spokesperson for The Natural History Museum said: "Recently we started a review to better understand the history of our institution as a historical and contemporary global collection of natural history specimens.”

Headline, photo, tw!tt*r screencap, and text from: Duffield. “Natural History Museum is due to review ...” Evening Standard. 7 September 2020.

----

Stuff:

- Charles Darwin considered Indigenous people of Tierra del Fuego as less intelligent/sentient than domesticated dogs; Carl Linnaeus explicitly and directly plotting colonization and calling Southeast Asian, Latin American Indigenous, and Chinese people “barbaric”, “poor”, etc.

- The tale of breadfruit domestication, the mutiny on the Bounty, and plantation owners plotting with Kew Gardens to take plants from Indigenous Polynesians and domesticate crops to undermine slave gardens in the Caribbean.

– “Ghostly non-places; settler-colonial hallucinations and fantasy visions; monstrous plants and animals; hiding, destroying, re-making ecological worlds; permanent cataclysm; the horror of settlement”: Anna Boswell on settler-colonial agriculture/ecology and the role of scientific institutions in legitimating imperial constructions of “new worlds.”

– Conflating women with “bloodthirsty” and “flesh-eating” plants, and the dehumanization of Indigenous cultures through the scientific illustrations of imperial scientific agents and artistic depictions of plants from colonized ecosystems (Euro-American art/botany, 1700s to early 1900s).

- When naturalists from Kew Gardens tried to import marsupials from Australia in order to naturalize the kangaroo to English ecosystems in an attempt build imperial/nationalist identity and pride by demonstrating how the English countryside is friendly, perfect, superior, welcoming to life, unlike the dangerous tropical landscapes at Empire’s frontier (1790s to 1850s).

- Scientists and land managers of Canadian federal government attempting to expand control over the Arctic/sub-Arctic by purposely killing caribou herds to weaken Indigenous autonomy before importing European reindeer to better control Indigenous foodsheds. (1890s to 1930s.)

- How the gardens, horticulture, and food markets of poor/dispossessed/enslaved in the Caribbean allowed autonomous food networks to exist and undermine plantation owners. (Late 1700s, early 1800s.)

- Grasses, seed merchants, and “the Empire’s dairy farm” in Aotearoa. (European agriculture in late 19th and early 20th centuries.) And: The role of grasslands, deforestation, and English grasses in ecological imperialism in Aotearoa, early 20th century.

- The Scottish-born chief coroner of Adelaide who robbed graves, dissected bodies, and took the skulls of at least 180 Aboriginal people for his home collection. (1900-ish to 1920-ish.)

- Pineapple, breadfruit, and plantations “doing the work of Empire” in Hawaii.

- Mapuche people, Valdivian temperate rainforest, and Chilean/European state plots to colonize Valdivia by dismantling the rainforest to undermine Mapuche autonomy and to create “Swiss or German pastoral farm landscape”.

- Carl Linnaeus and botanists’ racism against India and Latin America, and the use of botanic gardens to acquire knowledge as an exercise of “soft empire.”

- How Atomic Energy Commission and academic ecologists from the US knowingly and purposely used Polynesian/Micronesian people as human test subjects and profited off of nuclear weapons testing in the South Pacific. (Contains many direct quotes from the scientists. Extremely graphic.)

- Dandelions, other non-native plants, and settler gardens changing soil of the Canadian Arctic. (Late 1800s and early 1900s.)

- European botanic gardens in 18th-/19th-century Mexico and Central America as a tool of imperialism and knowledge systematization. (“Botany began as atechnoscope – a way to visualize at-a-distance – but, at the end of the eighteenth century, it was already a teletechnique – a way to act at-a-distance.”)

- Memes for when you see a mention of “Joseph Banks” or “Kew Gardens” in any magazine, academic article, museum exhibit, documentary, or something.

- “Fugitive seeds”: Seed-keeping and plant knowledge among Black communities in the US as an alternative current of thought compared to the scientific racism of 19th century scientific institutions.

- How European botanists experimented under the reign of Leopold in the Belgian Congo before transplanting African oil palm to Southeast Asia to establish the first major oil palm plantations; today, 100 years later, oil palm monoculture ravages Southeast Asia and the same plantation company still owns property across Africa.

- Wild rice, “cottage colonialism” in Canada, imaginative control, the power of names and naming plants. (1780 to present.) And: Kew Gardens plotting to take Native strains of wild rice and domesticate them for cheap and profitable consumption in other imperial British colonies.

- Calcutta Botanic Gardens abduction and use of Chinese slaves; Kew Gardens (successfully) plotting to steal cinchona from people of Bolivia to service their staff in India; botanic gardens’ role in large-scale dispossession to create plantations in Assam and Ooty (1790s - 1870s).

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 10

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. Mild smut in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Tony fluff, Tony snark, Tony sass and Tony smut (finally!). My & reader's brain be like: tony tony tony tony. A request for my readers: do I write a believeable tony? Is he in character, more or less?

My beta @miscmarvelwritings - she's not into Tony but even then, she was finally excited about them finally getting down & dirty. The patience of this woman...

"Tony, could I borrow, like, a hoodie or something?"

He eyed my attire critically for a moment, seemingly coming to the same conclusion I did minutes earlier, and made a beeline for the couch in the back of the lab. Picking up and examining a black mass of fabric, deeming it satisfactory, he tossed it to me. "It's clean enough, I guess."

The thin straps of my mesh top rubbed against a lot of tender skin, leaving pink lines in the wake of it. A sigh of relief escaped me involuntarily when I removed it -

"Woah, woah," Tony squeaked, covering his eyes with an exaggerated gesture. "Warn a man!"

I honestly didn't see what the big deal was. "Tony, chill. I'm pretty sure you've seen it all and then some." I snorted, stretching briefly, shrugging on the slightly oversized hoodie. It smelled like the lab - like Tony, too, but mostly like motor oil and iron. Beggars can't be choosers, however - I had already devised and executed the plan that will let me keep the hoodie.

"When you put it that way..." He smirked, briefly returning to his usual self and giving me a salacious eyebrow wiggle.

I laughed in response, wiggling my hips, feeling the hem of my skirt swish against my thighs. I considered removing the fishnet tights, too, but a brief look in the reflective wall divide between Tony's and Bruce's labs got me pulling out my phone to take two dozen selfies. I looked great with Tony's clothes on.

The engineer chuckled at my antics, coming up behind me as I sat on the floor with my knee raised, chin resting on it. The amber liquid sloshed over the top of his glass, dripping down his fingers. He sat behind me.

"Weller Full Bourbon?" I asked, bringing my nose closer to his fingers to get a good whiff. The distinctive vanilla notes in his whiskey were unmistakable. "Good choice," I made a serious face. "Fancy."

"I can afford it, darling," He snarked back, devoid of malice.

He was so close. And so warm. And I needed a new screensaver. Shuffling back, I reclined against Tony's chest, carefully wedging my head in the crook of his neck.

God help me.

I felt his breath hitch. The dark, magnetic pools of his eyes stared at me from our combined reflection. Tony's eyes were the most expressive, he could fake a smile, he could charm the press and countless investors, but his eyes only spoke the truth. Always. I loved working with Tony because his gaze would light up. It was akin to seeing a little kid on Christmas.

A muscular arm snaked around my waist, pressing my back to his chest. The metal of his arc reactor jabbed uncomfortably between my shoulder blades but there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

"You're filming, Princess," He interrupted my Moment.

"Sure," I answered, not caring. There could be another alien invasion happening and I wasn't able to give a damn.

I felt the vibrant chuckle more than heard; Tony snatched the phone out of my hand without permission. I noticed the furrowed brow when he opened my Instagram and saw the unmistakable evidence of my frequent partying, yet he didn't comment on it.

"Tony, the press is going to go nuts," I raised my eyebrows, seeing what he was planning to do.

"They've seen me doing worse things," He scoffed. And took a photo of us ‘just chilling’ in his lab, hugging. He picked out a filter and everything., and then posted it.

"First of all, I am pretty awesome to be 'doing', I've had only good feedback," I scoffed at his dismissive attitude, using my free hand to make quote marks. Then I turned my head to stare him square in the face. "Steve's going to be pissed and Ms. Potts is going to call to yell at you." I punctuated the statements with a raised eyebrow.

There was really no innocent way the press could represent the photo that he posted. I didn't care for it, my parents wouldn't give a damn (my father probably would encourage it, the free publicity and all). Tony himself didn't seem like the kind of man to care much about some gossip articles, if anything, he enjoyed provoking them into a frenzy. Or at least, he used to.

"I'll put them both on hold. I like to watch the line blink," Tony winked, smirking. "I've been told the press expects me to have a midlife crisis since my last breakup," Eyes darkening, the man swiftly finished off his drink.

Midlife crisis seemed such a bitter way of putting it. Considering my own preferences in romantic partners, I couldn't help but feel offended at the way people offhandedly dished out labels - "midlife crisis", "daddy issues" and so on and so forth. The briefest part of me traveled back to Mr. Davies' living room where - no, I am not going there.

"Huh," I said, coming to a conclusion. A sad one at that.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Princess, but you don't seem like the kind of girl who thinks about pesky things like reputation or consequences," Tony mused idly, coming to a conclusion of his own.

"Nope, I don't give a fuck," I agreed with his opinion wholeheartedly. "If I would have a publicist, they would quit on the second day."

"I pay mine, uh, twice the average amount and they still quit. We're doomed, baby," Tony's gleeful face was mere inches away from my own, whiskey-tipsy and glowing.

I snorted, sliding lower to further burrow into his arms. Tony's sudden touchy-feely mode wasn't lost on me. My own touch starvation overrode any common sense that I had left. The totally-PG (well, not quite) embrace, one armed hug brought me more satisfaction than any of my sexual partners had ever achieved to give me.

"Why are there so many messages from Banner? Are you staging a world domination plan and forgot to include me? I'm hurt!" Tony exclaimed suddenly, a whiny tone to his voice.

"Thor's space yeasts have corrupted our minds with their spores. Soon all will become... Mushroom!" I deepened my voice for the dramatic effect, flailing my arms on the last word for the extra flair.

The man wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye; his eyes were sparkling, laughing even. "I'm evicting Thor and his supremely selfish yeast. How dare it ignore me."

"I vouched for you, I really did," I kept up the silly game. "But alas, the yeasts deemed you too... Boomer," The pride in my voice could barely hold back the laughter threatening to spill.

"Did you just..?" Tony gaped. "Did you just call me old?!"

I attempted to get away, shrieking when the tips of Tony's fingers squirmed along my midsection. "It was the yeast! IT WAS THE YEAST!" My resistance proved to be futile. The engineer had mass and strength on his side, years of piloting and maneuvering the Iron Man suits showing just how quick and nimble he could be when the situation demanded it.

"Take that from an old man!" He exclaimed triumphantly, using his arm to hold down both of my hands from grasping at him. One of his legs held down my own; we were a squirming, writhing mass of limbs in the heat of a tickle fight.

The cocaine in my blood, the mild buzz from being drunk on Tony - my body reacted to the close proximity of the man who occupied my fantasies. I was blushing, breathing heavily, and it wasn't just from the exertion. It should have affected me less, but I struggled to keep my eyes from Tony's face; his own flush, the moist part of his lips.

I wondered how a deer in the headlights felt. Was it hot, like it's body was suddenly alight, or was it cold, liquid nitrogen freezing in its veins?

"Fuck," I mumbled half-coherently.

"What was that?" He arched an eyebrow, clever eyes carefully watching my own.

"I'm in trouble," I chuckled weakly, looking away, pretending to struggle against his arms.

"You're trouble," He announced, grinning. His fingertips slowed, skimming gently along my sides now.

I retaliated with a tentative brush of my foot along the softness of his jean-covered inner thigh. It was euphoric, seeing Tony shudder, the thick eyelashes fluttering for the briefest part of a second.

"We should stop," He whispered suddenly, making a move to disentangle us both. Mixed signals, we've got em, ladies and gentlemen.

"Why?" I was tired of this dance. It was fun but painful. My firm decision of the past still stood: I won't be the lovesick fangirl, I won't be another notch in his bedpost. The resolve was crumbling but it was still there, to some point.

"You're not sober, this is wrong," He mumbled. "I'm more than twice your age, Princess."

That ship had sailed, Tony. If only you knew... "Do you seriously expect me, out of all people, to find common ground with someone my age? Someone like Peter? Jeez," I tried to be amused. If it came out more pleading, I pretended to not notice it. It was the moment of truth. It needed to be said. "I'm FUBAR, Tony. I'm lucky if anyone at all will want to put up with me, much less someone I can stand. I'm spoiled, I'm selfish, and annoying. I know that. I just thought we were friends and you'd be...kinder about it." My mumbling was met with a somewhat perplexed stare.

"I..." His eyebrows threatened to have a close encounter with his hairline. "What the fuck? Are you dead set on giving me a stroke today? I have a heart condition," He yanked me back towards his chest, unceremonious and indignant. "You can be so smart yet so stupid. Gosh, where is the world rolling, I'm quoting Pepper now." He seemed to be muttering to himself.

"Pot, kettle." I didn't resist the urge to snark.

"Right," Tony rolled his eyes. "You're beautiful and all that jazz. You deserve much more than this." Uncharacteristically sad, he pointed to himself, again. "I'm an old man with more issues than Playboy magazine."

"And I'm an angsty teenager with daddy issues, we're a match made in heaven."

"Hell," Tony was eyeing our combined reflection with a sort of petulance. It was hard keeping track of his microexpressions; his eyes and face held fleeting, half-finished thoughts, just like when he was creating, inventing something new.

"Works for me. Lucifer's hot," I answered with my brain on autopilot. He caught my eyes in the shiny glass, trapping me in his calculative gaze.

"The Netflix one or the Supernatural one?" Tony asked, equally absent from the conversation. Neither of us were able to break eye contact, breathing laboured and hearts thudding in our chests. I felt Tony's pulse fluttering under my palm where I'd rested it on his wrist.

The organ that dutifully pumped blood through my own veins and kept me alive threatened to escape my body, jump out of my chest, make its way out my mouth. Tony's unblinking stare penetrated my skin, seeped into the hollow behind my eyelids, ignited a flame within me and froze my thoughts.

"The one with the detective kink," I answered breathily. "I have an affinity for brown-eyed, narcissistic, sarcastic men with self-destructive tendencies," The last part of my sentence was swallowed by Tony's lips.

My brain shorted out, just like that. Bourbon on his breath and a new dose of snark on his tongue, he licked into my mouth with the grace and finesse of years of experience. It was sudden, it was rough, it was fantastic. His beard left marks on my face and I craved the burn of it.

"Fuck," I moaned when we were forced to surface for oxygen. My hips had moved, pressed against his own, prominent arousal digging into the small of my back. Tony had me moaning and grinding into it in mere seconds.

A hand rested on my face with surprising tenderness, turning my face to look at my own reflection. My hair was a mess, lips puffy - Tony wasn't looking any better, hunger and lust in plain view. It was a good look on him.

"Watch," His breath ghosted over the shell of my ear, lips traveling to the nape of my neck to attach themselves to the very sensitive flesh of that area.

I obeyed, gazing at the scene with lidded eyes. Keeping them open was a struggle. My body was flooded with sensation, riding the waves of pleasure like a rollercoaster. I wanted to please him, needed to obey him, to feel him.

My thighs quivered at Tony's touch. There was no warning, no preamble as he wedged a firm hand, separating them quickly to follow the heat. His biceps flexed deliciously. Under my skirt, through the fishnets and the tiny, lacy panties I wore.

"Fucking shit," The man moaned loudly, finding me, predictably, soaking wet. It was one hot, sticky mess between my legs.

The keen that left my mouth might've been embarrassing, yet it only spurred Tony on. Gently parting my lower lips, he gathered the moisture, suddenly withdrawing from me. My confusion met his amusement in the mirror as he stuck the two fingers in his mouth, moaning obscenely and loudly at the taste.

The corners of my mouth lifted, happy. "To-ony," I whined, my pussy aching for more. Now that I had felt the relief and pleasure of his touch, I didn't want it to end.

"Princess," He replied, seriously and sternly. I shuddered at the scratchiness of his voice. The hand that I was missing returned, stroking over the outside of my pussy with broad, soft motions. I arched, presented myself into the touch. "So eager," Tony mumbled into my shoulder, catching a bit of my skin between his teeth.

His fingers dipped deeper, delving in between the puffy, engorged flesh and stroking once, twice, before finding my clit. The pads of Tony's fingers were rough, hardened by manual work and hours spent in front of his inventions, making, tinkering, creating. The friction was perfect. I followed each stroke with a fluid motion of my hips.

"Tony, fuck," I slurred my approval, needing him to know how amazing he made me feel. Tony's form pressed closer, both of us melting, molding into each other.

"Baby girl, what do you need?" His raspy voice tickled my neck. I was sure there would be an array of marks decorating me come morning and absolutely loved the thought. I belonged to Tony Stark, in body and heart and mind and soul.

"I want to cum," I had no shame left. "I want to feel you."

He groaned, rutting into me. A squeak was all I managed to emit as two thick fingers plunged inside of me with a wet squelch. My pussy immediately took hold of the situation, squeezing and rippling around them. I was so close, my nerves pulled up taut like an overtaxed string. The effect this man had on me was positively unholy.

My clit throbbed under his thumb. Tony somehow managed to reach every single sweet spot on my body, effortlessly, easily, like he'd done it a thousand times.

"Ohmyfuckinggod, Tony," I came hard, shuddering, drenching the fingers inside of me. The moment I began sagging in his arms was the moment they tightened around me; I felt Tony grind helplessly against me, saw his own eyes slam shut and his brow furrow.

The hand that was in me withdrew rapidly as he hastily popped the button on his pants, freeing his cock and giving it several desperate tugs. I couldn't see it; I had to settle for the sensation of his hand, his hips rubbing against my clothed back.

He came quickly, with a loud shout. My curiosity got the best of me and I used the brief moment of his weakness to turn around, take a good look at him.

Tony was a fucking mess with a fucking gorgeous cock. Thick and veiny.

My face was level with it before he could have opened his eyes. I wanted, craved to know how he tasted. With gentle kitten licks, I collected the stray drops of cum running down his hand, careful of the rapidly softening, sensitive flesh.

His eyes popped open in surprise. I smiled at him, unseeing, collecting as much of him as I could.

"Fuck, Princess," He breathed. "I'm just a man, I'm pushing fifty," Gently pulling my head away but holding it mere inches from his cock. Indecisive.

I reached over for his hand with my own, popping finger after finger in my mouth, collecting every drop of cum like it was nectar. I could be good...I If properly motivated. The salty musk was all the motivation I needed at that moment. He pulled me in for a filthy, sloppy kiss once I was done, both of us humming, vocalising the shared pleasure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @as-i-layhereinyourbed @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney

As always, feedback is welcome and this blog is keyboard smash & emoji friendly.

#tony stark smut #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x you #bun writes #party favours #TONY NEVER SHUTS UP YO

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agrarianradfem · 3 years

Note

hi, this is random but what do you like to read? I'm in a rut, so was wondering if u have recs or current reading list or tbr or smth? I rmbr u saying that u read 3 hrs a day? :)

Hi!! I do read a lot! Mostly nonfiction, romance, and a little bit of fantasy and contemporary/literary fiction. I’m currently reading The Hellion’s Waltz, the third in Olivia Waite’s Feminine Pursuits series (all three are ff historical romances set in England - Hellion’s Waltz isn’t out yet but I have an advanced copy). I would absolutely recommend the first, The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics if that sounds interesting. In general, here are some of my favorite books: Nonfiction: - Sweetness and Power by Sydney Mintz: A history of sugar, colonialism, and power dynamics in its production and consumption. Is rather academic but it is readable and slim. - Who Cooked the Last Supper?: This book is always recommended among radfems with great reason - women need to learn that the male way of thinking is wrong in so many ways, and that women have been making vital contributions to humanity that have been misattributed (purposefully and incidentally because of patriarchy) to men. - Milk by Kurlansky: This is the history of milk. It includes a wrong fact about the history of cheese (Kurlansky misattributes it to a man as part of Myth of Man the Hunter - see Who Cooked the Last Supper? to learn more about misattributions. Cheese was absolutely developed by women who were at home caring for children). But otherwise it’s a great and very readable history of one of humanity’s most important foods. - In The Shadow of Slavery: All about how enslaved Africans brought their foods and food traditions to the Americas and how food was a key part of resistance. Great information about things like rice cultivation in South Carolina and food as resistance in Brazil. - Invisible Women by Criado-Perez. Excellent book on the ways in which failing to sex disaggregate data (aka not separating out data on women vs men instead of lumping it all together) fails women, from car design to snow clearing plans. Great as an audiobook. - Fran Lebowitz Reader: This audiobook is amazing. - In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson. He brings his humor to Australia and you’ll want to purchase plane tickets immediately. (Can’t wait for Australia and NZ to open to vaccinated travelers!) I also love Thunderbolt Kid, At Home, and The Body by him. - The Emperor of All Maladies: This is a history of cancer and its treatment. This is a tome, but is absolutely fascinating. Romance: - A Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics: Really a lovely novel about female empowerment (like the real kind: standing up for oneself in the face of male efforts to hinder women, women becoming the best patrons and confidants for each other, etc) - Ravishing the Heiress: This is a straight romance, and one not the best intro to the genre for lesbians who don’t read any straight romance. But for fans of the genre (or even just romantic subplots in books and fanfiction) this is a masterclass example of a marriage of convenience and slow burn romance. - Devil in Winter and Marrying Winterborne by Lisa Kleypas. For those who loved Bridgerton, these are amazing. DinW is one of the most beloved historical romances of all time, and Marrying Winterborne is from her newest series and that book is becoming beloved as well.

Fantasy: - When Women Were Warriors: This is a story told in three parts (it’s not three books, you have to read all three parts to complete the story) set in pseudo-medieval England about a matriarchal, matrilineal society where lesbianism is common. Great for fans of fantasy who don’t need magic, creatures, or space travel, etc. - All the books written by Tamora Pierce. Her books are mostly YA/Middle Grade but they have excellent pacing, plots, and character development. My favorites are the Alanna books and the Immortals series. These are great if you’re someone who likes shorter books where for attention purposes or just for a fast read. I reread these all the time - Mercy Thompson series by Patricia Briggs: TW sexual assault at the 1/3 point in the series (and for basically every book in the sister Alpha and Omega series). This is Urban Fantasy for all the fans of werewolves, vampires, fae, fairy tales, wendigos, and all the other scary legendary creatures. Features a great female lead, a straight romantic subplot, inter-species alliances and wars, fighting for good, and is set in the Pacific Northwest. There’s a billion of these books (read in order) so you’ll have plenty to keep you reading if you like the first. - Daughter of the Forest: TW graphic sexual assault. This is a famous retelling of The Six Swans story. Straight romantic subplot. This book is constantly recommended as one of the best retelling stories and I agree. I would recommend reading rather than listening to an audiobook of this one because there’s no reason to read the assault scene - just get to it and skip a few pages and resume. I fully believe that if this book was written now it wouldn’t have the descriptions, but it is important to the plot. Contemporary/Literary Fiction: - Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters: TW for abusive relationship and prostitution. This story of the underground of London at the turn of the century is a lesbian classic for a reason. Happy ending! Great exploration of the time. - Bastard Out of Carolina: TW graphic sexual assault of a child. This book is a really hard read about the ways in which women pick men over their own daughters, religion oppresses women, poverty is worse for women than men, women are expected to be quiet and just suffer their burdens. I read this for the first time in a Women’s Writing course in college and it made me bawl my eyes out. It’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. - The Well of Loneliness: I love sad books and this is no exception. Sad lesbian at the turn of the century. Historically important book. - Prodigal Summer by Barbara Kingsolver: This ecofiction book is not the usually recommended book by her. This takes inspiration from Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring and interweaves three stories of women, life and death, and the health of the environment. I use goodreads and Kirkus reviews to find books all the time. If any one of these sounds interesting, put it into goodreads and you’ll be able to find other books by the author, books similar to it, and lists that contain the book (for instance, if you look up prodigal summer it’s probably on an ecofiction list and you can find a ton of ecofiction books that way!). Kirkus is amazing for finding new and upcoming books. The online reviews are free (I think - my mom is a paid subscriber to the magazine). For nonfiction I also look through Washington Independent Review of Books. Another underrated way to find books is Facebook and Reddit! If there’s a genre you really like, then find a facebook group for it. This is a great way to find what others love, new releases, and you can save posts (underutilized thing fb does) and have something to scroll through the next time you are looking for a book. Reddit has a bunch of subreddits for different genres. Many of the large genre groups run books clubs (fantasy runs a bunch of structured book clubs, romance runs buddy reads, etc.). Hopefully this gives you some place to start!

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rvmmm21 · 4 years

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. kill me with your favourite weapon .

summary : seungwan barely feels warmth painting thin lines down her skin as joohyun drinks her down. the pain is awful. it sears, pierces and blinds – until it doesn’t.

small note : yandere vampireverse. twisty. the human x monster thing is worryingly fun to stretch. let's hope i haven't broken it.

[yanVampire!irene x human!wendy]

tw : non-con sedation and implied use of aphrodisiacs, yandere themes, small mentions of blood, slight crying kink.

. . .

When Seungwan shivers, she notices.

It’s a cold, dry night after all.

She’ll keep her warm.

She rolls over and drapes an arm over the back of the girl lying next to her. “Poor baby,” she coos, “bad dreams again?”

After a minute, Seungwan stirs. Through the darkness, she can barely see the other woman now slowly propping herself up on her elbows. Still, she groggily nods and lets out a small, sleepy whimper, unable to recall why she woke up so suddenly.

Nightmares aren’t a completely inaccurate assumption though, she supposes.

Cold fingers brush delicately through her fringe in an attempt to soothe, and in her drowsy state, Seungwan almost whines out loud at the act of comfort. She manages to catch herself just in time, though. The real-world spins behind her eyes, prompting her to lift her head from the pillow, staring down through grainy vision. It’s mildly uncomfortable waking up on your stomach, and she feels the overwhelming urge to roll onto her back and let her lungs expand, properly.

Seungwan hears the soft rustling of cotton sheets before she can even think to settle down again.

“Does my baby need my help?” the voice comes again, singed with concern and a lot closer than it had been moments ago.

Consciousness hits Seungwan with the velocity of a bullet train at that poorly disguised question. Shaky, nervous eyes dart towards the direction of the voice. She knows exactly what that means.

It occurs to her that she may have actually been woken up out of a good dream. Just for this.

No, no. No help, please.

She isn’t even aware she’s shaking her head until there’s a hand on the back of it, shoving her cheek into the pillow, and a body straddling her back. Seungwan tries to pull away from the hand that has a fistful of her hair, in an equal effort to breathe as well as beg.

“N-no, I can – can sleep on my own,” she stutters, trying her best to mask the desperation in her voice, as if self-conviction will save her from what’s about to happen.

The response is a hopeless one. One that Seungwan has heard as many times as her knees have hit the floor and her back has been pressed against the wall.

“Lying to me now?” The grip in her hair finally loosens, but it’s just as swiftly replaced by fingers around the nape of her neck. “Naughty, naughty. I thought I trained you better than this.”

A sob claws its way up her throat, but she hastily chokes it back down, for fear of feeding into the sick fantasy even further. She screws her eyes shut, cringing at her own stupid reflex. The stupid reflex to defend herself; no matter how many times she’s learnt it’s futile, she still chooses to lie to her beloved.

“I-I’m sorry, I – I didn’t mean, didn’t mean to –”

Seungwan feels her face forcefully pushed back into the pillow, smothering the plea into a string of muffled gasps. The irregularity of her own heartbeat is pulsing in her ears, and she instinctively goes rigid when she feels those horribly sharp, un-human incisors graze against her shoulder, exposed from the loose neckline of her sleep shirt.

Her only warning that it’s feeding time.

When Seungwan squirms to get away, Joohyun doesn’t give her anywhere to go.

Although that’s never stopped her from trying. It’s natural instinct to struggle against anything pinning you down, even if she has yet to learn that she doesn’t so much as move without Joohyun’s permission.

In a swift manoeuvre, Seungwan is flipped over onto her back and caged in by two ridiculously strong arms that cause the mattress to dip on either side of her face. At this point she almost wishes she was face down again. Because then, at least, she wouldn’t have to… face the intensity of the vampire now leaning in far too close for her comfort. Her knee presses into Joohyun’s chest as she pushes herself closer still; a feeble attempt to keep the inevitable at bay.

Seungwan should be thankful Joohyun is kind enough not to point out how hopeless she looks right now. A meagre human, physically inferior and trapped under a vampire ten times her strength.

Like pitching a rodent against an impatient, famished snake. It also doesn’t help that Joohyun thinks her little field mouse could do with another dose of venom, if only to make for an easier consumption.

“Beg me not to.”

The dazed girl blinks fresh tears from the corners of puffy eyes, letting them fall into platinum blonde tresses as she looks at the vampire looming above her. Those eyes; a blood-thirsty red and glinting with the unparalleled desire to just… devour. She has never seen her look this feral before. And if she hadn’t known any better, she’d have called it downright animalistic. Despite this, Seungwan proceeds to falter with her words, desperately wanting to say something new or something right for once, in the hopes of being spared.

Unfortunately, monsters love playing with their food. Joohyun would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy seeing her prey like this. The way her favourite human girl struggles so hard to keep from bawling her eyes out, because she knows the tears excite her. A little too much.

But Seungwan isn’t a forward thinker. Not when it’s to do with being at the mercy of someone as conniving as Joohyun. “P-Please no… I’m – I’ll go to sleep now, p-promise, I – mm! Ow! Ow!”

She’s interrupted by a hand tangling roughly into her hair and yanking her head to the side, holding her in this new terribly strenuous position and forcefully baring the column of her neck. Shying away from the fangs nudging against her throat isn’t an option anymore, and the threat of breaking that fragile barrier to get to what the vampire is really after lingers like the stale air in an unused basement. Joohyun knows that Seungwan absolutely deserves what’s coming to her if she’s still duped that easily.

A devilish grin crawls onto her face and tugs at the corners of her lips.

“Stop struggling, baby. Don’t waste your energy so quickly.” Joohyun’s voice resonates somewhere between a drawl and a primal growl, and it just breaks Seungwan. She can’t help the violent shudder when Joohyun starts giving her little warning nips along the base of her jaw, so vulnerable. It’s infinitely worse when she can’t turn her head to gauge Joohyun’s proximity, can’t shake her head ‘no’, can’t even brace herself for the impact.

When she can’t do anything but lie there and take it like the weak, helpless human she is.

A broken shriek is ripped from her when fangs sink into soft flesh, aimed right for her jugular, hitting with a devastating accuracy. It’s calculated and deathly precise, just like every other time. Seungwan barely feels warmth painting thin lines down her skin as Joohyun drinks her down.

The pain is awful. It sears, pierces and blinds –

– until it doesn’t.

And then Seungwan can’t remember why on earth she was protesting this in the first place.

The pain dissipates as quickly as it came, and a tingly numbing sensation is rapidly spreading from where those fangs are still embedded in the crook of her neck. The longer Joohyun drinks from her, the deeper the euphoria seeps, and Seungwan’s mind is clouded over with a blissful airiness that just grows more and more overwhelming with each passing second.

There’s no time to worry about nonsense like blood-loss when all she can want is more.

But Joohyun is satisfied, for now. She extracts her fangs and licks over the twin puncture wounds to ensure proper clotting. For the briefest of moments, Seungwan lays there, stunned in muted ecstasy. And then her top lip quivers before she all but grabs Joohyun by the collar and drags her down until their chests are flush against each other’s, the tips of their noses grazing as the smaller girl cranes up to collide them in a passionate, metallic kiss. Suddenly, the heat has resurfaced somewhere else. And it’s a very different kind. Seungwan isn’t sure if Joohyun can feel her helplessly bucking up into nothing. She’s drained and delirious from the after-effects of Joohyun’s venom, but she feels the urge to voice her needs, nonetheless.

“I want – I need you…”

The vampire pulls away slowly to peer down at her human lover, now weakly grasping at the lose fabric of her top, too exhausted to finish the sentence, but unwilling to lose her grip on consciousness until after she’s been given what she now craves.

“P-Please, Joohyun… please…”

They’re the same words as before, but Joohyun knows exactly what they mean this time.

And she’s ever willing to oblige.

Because she loves Seungwan, and she loves having her like this.

Even if she has to do a bit of convincing first.

#red velvet #vampire #wenrene #wendy #irene #yandere #yandere vampire #red velvet scenarios

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wellspokenrambler · 4 years

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tw sexual assault and rape, discussions of fiction-affecting-reality as pertains to rpf

embarrassing monologue from an ex-rpf person

read at your own risk. somewhat nowt safe for work

thinking recently, anything that i’ve ever been “anti” about (ugh, hate that word) has pretty much fallen under “does this normalise stuff using fiction in a way that could prove harmful in real life?”

so like abuse/noncon/developmentally-significant-age-gap/incest/etc type stuff, which you’ve probably seen me reblog stuff on before, but also rpf, which I haven’t really talked about on here before because to do so is essentially a confession, so bear with me.

back in 2011 - 2014 when I first joined tumblr I was in the fandom of some popular YouTubers at the time, and developed a parasocial crush on one of them. Being 16 and not really having a fully-solidified concept of boundaries yet, I read a LOT of fanfiction about them and other people - not because I actually believed that anyone was actually with anyone else, but because i was a repressed teenage virgin looking for some type gratification.

(going to gloss over the fact that I’m currently a repressed adult virgin)

The thing that gradually caused me to come to terms with the not-okayness of the whole thing was seeing people over and over again overstepping boundaries with these people: sure, I had plenty of Thoughts, sure, but you wouldn’t have caught me dead actually saying those thoughts to those people because I recognised, even as a 16-year-old, that I didn’t know them and I didn’t want to be creepy at them. I began to recognise the link between the way the fictionalised versions of these people were used as puppets for fantasies bled into how those interactions happened for those making the videos, and eventually I managed to wean myself off of the fics.

Then, it turned out that most of the people I’d been a fan of had been in turn predating on their friends, loved ones, and even their fans - some of whom were underage.

It turned out that this fictionalised perception of these people wasn’t just making fans blind to their humanity in the form of fans disrespecting creators: the predators used those perceptions as a smokescreen to disguise their cruelty and prevent having to take accountability for their actions.

Some things have changed since then, and some things haven’t, in the way we relate to the people we look up to. A big difference for me now is that it isn’t people older than me who are out there doing a lot of this stuff now - it’s people my age, which means their virtues and failings aren’t pedestal-ed as much because... in this online space, those are my peers.

idk, I’m getting older now and I just wanted to sort through some of my thoughts on it. Basically, I’m not keen on RPF because, looping back to “does this normalise stuff using fiction in a way that could prove harmful in real life?”:

it normalises treating creators as objects for consumption instead of as complex beings

this objectification can cause those people serious harm when their personhood is ignored by the people who claim to respect them

vice versa, refusing to see them as complex beings opens you up to being vulnerable to predation from people exploiting the way that you percieve them

so yeah, that’s my Thoughts. advice: if you find yourself relying on stuff like the stuff mentioned, please look inside yourself and ask yourself why. It’ll suck massively, but you will come out better for having asked the question.

And I definitely didn’t start thinking about this stuff because I have another parasocial crush, haha nooooope that isn’t me ://///

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depravitycentral · 10 months

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Yandere! Nobunaga Hazama NSFW Profile

Yandere! Nobunaga Hazama x fem! reader

Tw: non-con, stalking, kidnapping, non-consensual touching, infantilization, delusional behavior, Nobunaga is a fucking creep, this one is not for everyone so please tread lightly, excessive Daddy kink, like seriously it's so much, corruption kink (can be applied to both virgins and non-virgins), pussy inspection, humiliation, mentions of reader having pubic hair, Nobunaga has a fleshlight that he customizes, again lots of talk about cum (if you were present on my old blog, the cum jar does not make an appearance don't worry), fem reader, MDNI

Also small shout out to @holydayaria because I read one of her posts talking about how Nobunaga refuses to believe you're not a virgin and all I can say is that I agree. If you'd like me to take this down because of that, please let me know!

WC: 12K

HABITS:

Nobunaga is certainly no stranger to sex; he’s always been a very physical man, craving human affection and touch, and for most of his life he’s sated his sexual desires via hookups, women he can fuck and leave immediately after. Sex holds some emotional value to him, but not enough to stop him from using women just for his own pleasure, no strings attached.

It’s more that sex with the right person means something to him - sex with you, for example, would mean everything. He’s a horny man by nature, aiming to get off at least biweekly if not more, and once you step into his life this increases monumentally, your presence only enhancing his natural desire to fuck and grope and mark.

He begins thinking of you in lewd ways pretty early into his obsession; it’s a byproduct of stalking you constantly, if only because he’s seen you naked often, your pretty skin and delicious figure revealed to his eager, smoldering dark eyes.

He’s studied every inch of your body before you’re even aware of his feelings for you - he knows where every single mole, scar and hair is, which areas you hold insecurities over, which spots you like to touch and feel when you’re awake late at night, your thighs rubbing together and little moans coming from your throat.

He knows you like the back of his fucking hand, which is why he’s very, very interested in doing literally anything sexual with you. You’re alluring, so pretty and sexy and perfect, and just the mere idea of getting you naked below him, moaning and writhing because of him and his touch gets him flushed, swallowing the lump in his throat, and having to find the nearest semi private area to wrap his fist around his cock and pound away.

He just can’t help but become addicted to fantasizing about you, because in a lot of ways, you’re the only thing he’s living for - aside from the Spider, of course. You’re the reason he gets up every morning, shaving and making sure he looks presentable, attractive, so that if you happen to see him or notice him, you’ll see him as a potential love interest. He wants you to deem him as desirable, to want him, because he yearns so pitifully for you that he can’t not have the feeling reciprocated. It would be too painful, too embarrassing, too much.

Thus, Nobunaga holds no qualms about touching himself to the thought of you - you must want him, too, so why should he feel bad about getting off to you, you starring as the main and only role in his fantasies?

However, as time passes, Nobunaga finds himself slowly craving more and more of you, his desperation to actually have your body to touch and love slowly becoming too much to bear.

He used to be satisfied with fucking his fist, letting his eyes flutter closed and imagine the way you’d moan his name and clutch at the pillow behind your head when he folds you into a mating press. Then, when that wasn’t enough, he was quick to get to work on his pillow, hoping that maybe the physical action of fucking something would make it better.

It did, for a while - moving his hips so quickly and harshly that the pillow nearly tore, his imagination running wild when he pretends it’s you below him, your perfect open spread open and waiting for him.

Then that’s not enough, and Nobunaga’s at a bit of a loss - where does he go from here? He’s not quite ready to steal you away yet, still needing to make a few final arrangements with both his living situation and making sure he has everything you could possibly need.

He needs more time - but his cock needs you, so what does he do? He finds the solution when he’s rummaging through an old box he’d found in one of his temporary hideouts, covered in dust and very obviously not used in a long time.

He opens it, curiosity getting the better of him, only to stare - he’d totally forgotten that a few years ago Phinks and Uvogin, ever the wonderful friends, had decided it would be a good joke to get the swordsman a fleshlight. They’d thought it was upset him, and while he was mildly confused, he found the joke funny too, the mental imagery of either of them vandalizing a sex toy shop making him laugh out loud.

He’d kept the toy, but it was still sealed in its packaging, still totally pristine and untouched - he’d been too embarrassed to use it, preferring instead to go find a real cunt to release into.

And yet, with the thought of you fresh in his mind, he’s quick to grab the toy, throwing the box aside and eagerly tearing into the toy’s packaging. He gulps when he finally gets it out; it’s big, easy ten inches long, weighing heavily in his hand.

The silicone on the outside is smooth, and Nobunaga notices with a cocked eyebrow that the manufacturer had fabricated silicone lips resembling that of a pussy on the outside, even going so far as to place a little nub at the top, surely meant to represent a clit. He gulps, examining the toy further.

It would do, he thinks - it’s good enough for now, at least, just as an experiment, if anything else. Maybe it would be easier to pretend it’s you - he’s sure you’d feel much, much better than whatever artificial pleasure the measly plastic can bring him, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

As he’s staring at the toy, he notices the time, and quickly he’s scampering for his shoes, slipping out the front door and immediately heading over to your apartment, knowing that you’re always asleep by this time, meaning he can safely watch.

He likes to sit at the foot of your bed, his chin resting on his fist as he dreamily smiles at you, appraising your relaxed form as you breathe in, out, in, out.

(He hopes you’re dreaming of him, and a few times he’s actually heard you moan lightly in your sleep - he’s so, so very hopeful that he was starring in the dream with you, because who else possibly could be?)

It’s not until he’s been there for an hour or so that his mind wanders back to the toy. It would make do, for now, but it still wasn’t all that realistic - it was silicone, first of all, while you were flesh and blood.

It wasn’t the right shape, either, because he knows your lips aren’t like that - yours are prettier, more unique, more you.

The toy doesn’t have your scent, either, that musky, delicious smell that gets his knees feeling weak and his mouth watering.

The toy doesn’t even have any of your cute little pubic hairs, either - it’s bare, something he knows you’re not.

He sighs, realizing it’ll be a bit hard to make the toy actually feel like you, but it’s only when you roll over in your sleep that he realizes there may be a solution to a few of his objections. It’s not hard to find a pair of scissors and slide the sheets and your shorts down carefully, snipping a few strands of your hair and storing them in his kimono pocket.

It’s not hard to memorize every nook and cranny of your cunt, committing the way your lips fold and meet to memory, something he’ll never, ever forget. It’s not much, but as he rushes home, his heart beating out of his chest, Nobunaga feels excited, hoping that these additions will make the toy that much better, that much more like you.

He’s quick to grab his sword and get shaping the silicon, trying to carve the lips into something more similar to yours, carving in folds and minimizing ones you don’t have. When he’s done, he’s gluing on the hairs he’d collected, and once it’s all dried and put together, he can only bite his lip, excitement coursing through his veins.

It’s crude, and you’re much, much prettier, but it’s a lot better now - at least it actually kind of looks like you, and it’ll make it much easier to immerse himself in the fantasy of finally, finally sinking inside you.

He’ll climb onto his bed, swallowing hard and letting his hair down from its topknot, idly running his fingers through it imagining you doing the same thing. Would you tug at his hair, pull on his roots and make him groan in pleasure-tinged pain?

Long, slender fingers peel off his kimono and run down his chest, tracing lines of muscle and scars. Would you study every inch of him like this, leaving no part of his skin untouched?

Soon he’s reaching his cock, spreading his thighs a bit to make sure he gets good leverage, and as he slowly, very slowly wraps his fingers around his length, he shakily sighs. Would you pump him a few times before you truly had your way with him? Would you warm him up like this, get him at least partially ready for when you sink down on him, your tight walls or hot mouth enveloping him whole?

Nobunaga grunts, before reaching out and grabbing the toy, bringing it up to his mouth. Spreading the silicon lips, he spits into it, hoping that’s enough lubricant to have his cock sliding in and smoothly. With you, he’s sure that wouldn’t be a problem - you’d be so wet for him, so aroused and turned on and needy for him, already dripping down your thighs all because of his touch.

(He might still spit on you if you asked him to, though - he’d spit in your mouth if you’d let him.)

With shaky fingers, he brings the toy down, his free hand grasping the base of his cock and helping aim the tip into the toy’s lips, groaning lightly he slips inside with a wet pop noise, his toes curling a bit. He brings the toy down further, letting it slide down and down, until the base meets his pelvis.

Letting his head roll back, he takes a few deep, steadying breaths. The toy doesn’t feel like a real pussy - like your pussy, but it’s still strangely pleasurable, the inside all tight and textured, massaging his tip and making him curse.

Fuck, baby, he grunts, letting a hand run through his hair again, gonna let me fuck this little cunt? Yeah?

He likes to talk to himself while he touches himself, pretending you’re there to listen and respond, pretending he can hear your airy, strained voice as he you moan out a yes, please, need you to fuck me!

He growls, before suddenly getting onto his knees, one hand supporting his weight as he leans forward while the other holds the toy steady.

Yeah? Fuck baby, get ready, I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard, wanna make you make a mess for me. And then he’s thrusting, hips plunging forward into the toy and letting his head drape forward, dark hair falling in a curtain around him as he groans lowly, the friction of the toy making his elbows feel weak.

Fuck baby, fuck fuck fuck - he’s gasping, the sensation of actually fucking something so much better than everything else he’s been doing up until now.

A constant streams of curses are falling under his breath, his hips fucking into the toy with such vigor that his balls are swinging, smacking into the plastic lip of the toy over and over again, making an audible slap noise.

He can’t help but imagine you below him, legs spread and ass taut, your face pressed into the mattress as you take his cock, taking every bit of pleasure he can give you, every thrust making you cry out and moan his name and yes yes yes -

He’s approaching his orgasm much faster than normal, the hairs he’d glued onto the toy tickling his naval with every thrust, just like your own cunt would. Shit baby, you want me to come? Wanna feel me come inside? I can’t hear you, fuck - fuck, say it louder, tell me you want me to come in you!

His voice is a growl at this point, slurred and strained and shaking as the pleasure grows and grows, but he needs to imagine hearing you say it, to imagine the way your pretty voice would call out a yes, please come inside, need your cum please please please!

He finishes with a long, drawn out groan that starts low but gets higher as his cum spills inside the toy, hips stuttering and spasming, every muscle in his body flexed as he gasps your name, arms threatening to give out at any moment.

It feels so good - you feel so good, and Nobunaga has to squeeze his eyes shut to ground himself, fingers gripping the bedspread so tightly his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t bother cleaning the toy after he slowly pulls out, cum spilling as soon as the suction is released, staining his bedspread as he flops back, still panting, staring up at the ceiling.

The toy felt good, but you’d feel better - you’d clench him more, you’d be warmer, you’d cry out his name and tell him how good he feels, your cunt squeezing him and never letting him pull out. You’d be eager, pushing your ass back against him and begging him to go faster, to go deeper, to give you every last drop of cum he can squeeze out. You’d just be better, but this is enough for now, until he’s got you by his side, sleeping soundly with your pretty pussy ripe for the taking. This’ll do, at least until then.

(The toy, however, barely lasts - it gets so much use by then that all those modifications he made have all but fallen apart; all the hairs have fallen off, and those lips he was careful to create are starting to wear down from the speed, intensity, and frequency of his thrusts. Cum is starting to overflow the toy, crusting to the outer ring, but he can’t bring himself to clean it out - he wouldn’t clean it out of you after all; you’d just take it all for him, storing it nicely inside, keeping it warm and safe and cherished inside you.)

Nobunaga wants you, terribly, and while he’ll hold himself for as long as he can, the moment he has you? Well, he’s a patient man when it comes to you, but even he has his limits. And when you’re laid in front of him, in the flesh and staring at him like that, he knows he’s met his.

So really, just spread your legs and let him go to town - he promises he’ll treat you right, make you come, get you overstimulated and fucked out.

Just let him try. Please.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your thighs

While he finds every single inch of your body alluring, captivating, drool worthy, there’s a certain allure to your thighs that he just can’t shake.

Maybe it’s because they’re so soft; pudgy fat that’s perfect for him to grip onto, to knead, to idly rest his hand to get you squirming and anxious.

Maybe it’s because they look so damn good when you’re just wearing those panties and one of his t-shirts, the expanse of creamy skin open and begging to be admired.

Maybe it’s just because he loves the way they feel caging his head when he’s got you sitting on his face, the muscles squeezing and trembling as he tongues at your clit.

Maybe it’s because they’re perfect to throw over his shoulders when he’s hovering over you, fucking into you like an animal in heat and gasping your name, turning his head to pepper kisses along them as he goes harder, faster, deeper.

He’s not totally sure, but all he really knows is that he likes them - and he’s not exactly shy about showcasing this fact. He’s not trying to hide the way his gaze lingers when you’re walking around, seeing the way the fat jiggles as you walk, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s not shy about kissing them and sucking hickies into them, groaning against your skin and coming up for air to tell you that you’re so fucking hot baby, these damn thighs, god…

He’s not shy about slipping his cock between them, fucking them while you’re forced to watch, seeing his pink tip appearing between them then disappearing over and over and over, up until he’s stuttering your name and cum is landing in ropes on your tummy.

He always seems to have a hand on your thigh, especially whenever the two of you are sitting - over dinner he’ll have you sit in his lap, one hand holding his fork and the other squeezing at you, groping slightly and pinching you just to see you yelp and feel you jerk in his hold.

He’ll have you throw your leg over his waist when you’re cuddling, his grip around you like a vice, your thigh digging into his crotch and feeling the way he slowly grows hard.

He’s always smacking at them, sending you a coy look and telling you that you’re so jumpy babe, you like it when I slap you? You’re so dirty, Daddy’s dirty little girl.

His love for your thighs hits him out of left field, and one day he’s returning home with a few pairs of thigh highs, forcing you into them and making you parade around, spinning and twirling and giving him a show, only for him to end up breathing heavily and patting his leg, shifting his kimono to the side and making you sit yourself down on his cock, breathing out a heavy, strained c’mere baby, Daddy wants to show you how much he likes your new socks.

He’s investing in garter belts and every piece of lingerie he can find that frames them, that makes them look even more soft and supple and fuckable, only serving to get him drooling and frantic to get his hands on you.

Even outside of sex, he genuinely just loves touching your thighs - it’s a comfort thing, one of the most meaty parts of you, and keeping it nearby is like assuring him that you’ll never be able to get far from him, that he’ll always be able to reach out and grab, to drag you back and make sure you never stray too far from his watchful gaze.

You’re just so pretty, and can he really be blamed for wanting to reach out and touch something so heavenly? Is he really a freak for wanting to squeeze and grope at your thighs, loving the way you get all embarrassed and flustered?

He doesn't think so, so he won’t stop - he’s always reaching and grabbing and wanting, and eventually you’ll grow used to it, even finding some comfort in it. Just know that as long as his hand is on your thigh, there’s a very, very strong chance that you’ll be having to deal with his cock soon - something he’s more than pleased about.

His dick

In general, Nobunaga prides himself on being your provider.

He’s the one giving you shelter, making sure you’re properly fed and taken care of.

He likes to bathe with you, washing your body and hair (and often pinning you down in the bathtub and stuffing you with a fresh batch of cum, but that’s besides the point), making sure you’re squeaky clean and perfectly healthy.

He’s the one making sure no people with ill intentions cross your path, whether that’s those seeking revenge against the Troupe, or just your average, everyday criminals looking for another pretty girl to make their target.

He likes to think he does everything he can for you, that he’s the sole reason why you’re still safe and healthy and alive, to some extent. But his views that he fully provides for you don’t just extend into your everyday life - no, that philosophy invades the bedroom too, the swordsman full-heartedly believing that he takes care of you sexually.

He fully believes that he’s the only one capable of making you come (including yourself), that he’s the only one capable of making you feel good, making you get all whiny and moany and making a mess between those pretty legs of yours. It makes him feel special, important, like you need him, and he’ll fully rise to his self-inflicted duty - he will make you come, no matter how long it takes.

(Besides, getting to have his mouth on your pretty folds for an hour or two at a time is absolute heaven; you taste wonderful, your smell surrounding him and making him throb, the sight of your pretty folds and puffy clit making him groan and lick his lips. It’s absolutely not a chore to eat you out, and the way he moans and praises you will make you more than aware that he doesn’t view this as a punishment in any form, along with the wet patch staining his kimono right over his cock.)

He will get you crying out his name, no matter how embarrassing or depraved his actions, his desperation to get you feeling good nearly palpable.

But his absolute favorite way to satisfy you in bed is with his cock. Sure, he likes using his fingers and tongue and anything else you want (he’ll let you use any part of him - just ask with that sweet voice of yours and attach a little hesitant, nervous please at the end and he’s caving like putty), but there’s just something so right about the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, the way your cunt sucks him in making him light headed and dizzy.

It feels natural to slip his head past your slippery folds, to run his tip up and down your slit, collecting your slick and telling you that you’re so wet for me baby, Daddy’s so proud of you, makin’ it so easy for him to fuck his princess.

It feels right when you’re clenching down on him, moaning his name as he rams into that spot again and again, walls squeezing at him and forcing him to stay inside, wanting to keep him where he belongs.

He’s convinced that he knows what your little pussy wants better than you do, and he’s sure the answer, at any given time, is his dick - how can it not be, when you’re always wet for him, your legs shaking before he even sinks inside?

And god, when he finishes inside you, spraying cum as deeply as he can, he swears he’s in heaven, pure euphoria shooting through his veins because now there’s a bit of him inside you, and now you’re really his.

He can claim you like this, and if it makes you feel good and gets you creaming and fluttering, it’s really all just fate. It’s got to be fate, because how else can you explain the way every muscle in his body goes lax when he bullies his way into your cunt, his body almost instinctually knowing what to do, how to fuck you, how to please you?

(The answer, of course, is that you’ve gotten quite good at faking your orgasms - but Nobunaga must never, ever find out, unless you want to be yelled at and tied down for hours while he presses the vibtrator to your poor, oversensitive clit and his cock and fingers take turns stuffing your hole.)

DRIVE:

In general, Nobunaga is touchy.

He’s always hovering around you, not letting you have much personal space, always just being near you. You’re like a drug to him, and he just can’t get his fix without touching you in some capacity, whether that be a hand on your arm, a kiss pressed to your forehead, his chest flush against your back, or anything else.

It’s uncomfortable, really, how insistent he is - you can slap his wrist away, hiss at him to quit, but he’ll just chuckle and shush you, tightening his grip and pulling you against him, murmuring in your ear to give the act up, sweetheart, you’re not fooling anyone.

It’s infuriating, and eventually those more innocent touches will begin morphing into more lewd ones, more sexual and overt. He’s naturally quite horny, and the presence of you certainly doesn’t help quell this - if anything, being around you only amplifies his desire to get his cock wet, his desperation for sinking himself deeply into something wet, warm and tight only increasing monumentally.

And you, sweet, lucky little you, get to be the sole target of all the pent up sexual urges and tensions he possesses - and he doesn’t try to hide them, either. He doesn’t see the point - why should he bother hiding the way his cock strains against his kimono, throbbing and stupidly hard, all because you bent over to pick something up in front of him?

Why does he need to ‘go away’, as you told him, when he’s got his kimono spread open, his heavy cock exposed while a hand gropes and squeezes at his balls, totally exposed on the couch?

(He’ll even carry a conversation with you like that - he won’t stop touching himself, the veins on his hand standing out as he squeezes, eyes fluttering closed as he tells you that you look so pretty today baby, what do you want for dinner? I was thinking maybe we could try something new tonight - I’m making it just for you, and I’m sure you’ll love it. He never explicitly said what he meant, but you knew - the way his cock throbbed at his words and precum oozed out in visible globs makes his idea more than apparent.)

He’s not subtle in the least, genuinely seeing no reason why he shouldn’t be totally transparent about what he wants from you and your body, and no amount of reasoning with him will get him to lay off.

He genuinely believes you want him to touch you as badly as he does - why wouldn’t he believe it? After all, you’re always leaving those little hints for him, quiet pleas for him to push your relationship further, all because you’re too shy and embarrassed to plainly say it to him.

You wouldn’t be wearing that t-shirt of his if you didn’t want him to rip it off you and suck on your pretty tits until your nipples are sore and puffy, right?

(No, it doesn’t matter that it’s the only shirt you possess, that’s not the point.)

You wouldn’t let the sheets slip down to expose the sliver of your tummy your nightshirt doesn’t cover if you didn’t want him to stare and salivate, right?

(No, who cares that you can’t control what your bedding does while you’re asleep - it’s a sign, dammit, and you can’t tell him otherwise.)

He’s just stubborn, reading into everything you do and totally misinterpreting it, but there’s not much you can do about it.

After all, who’s the Class A bounty, and who can kill with a flick of his wrist? Certainly not you.

Because Nobunaga is more or less completely out of touch with reality, his hopes and desires for your sexual relationship are, accordingly, a bit unrealistic.

He’s fully under the impression that you’re just playing hard to get, that you’re going through this mock rebellious phase because you think it’s the right thing to do, because you’re scared of your feelings for him, because you’re scared to give in to the way your heart and body need him, knowing that he’s the only one for you.

He’s fully convinced that it’s only a matter of time before you begin craving him sexually, just as badly and frequently as he craves you, and because of this he holds very little qualms about kickstarting that sexual side to your relationship. He doesn’t see why he should bother holding back - obviously you want him, buried deep down in that little heart of yours, and if he can get the both of you feeling good, getting closer, engaging in the most sacred, intimate thing a couple can, why wouldn’t he?

And so, while he doesn’t fully force you to fuck him, he’ll find other methods of getting what he wants.

(He won’t actually shove his cock into you yet, if only because he doesn’t want any of that stupid denial you’re giving him in regards to your true desires - just quit fucking crying, because it’s ruining the mood, and he knows you don’t mean it. So, he’ll punish you by not giving you the pleasure he knows you want - maybe then you’ll learn to be grateful, to not play this dumb game anymore and simply let him love you like you know he can. It’s a small mercy, really, in the sea of horrible things he forces onto you, but you’ll take it - he’s terrifying, and every time he slips off that kimono of his, cock springing into view and a bony hand coming down to tug and jerk, to smear and stroke, you’ll be grateful that he won’t go through with it if you beg him hard enough. Hopefully.)

But frankly, those methods aren’t too much better - you will be getting intimate; no amount of crying or begging will get you out of letting him touch you, or excuse you from being forced to touch him.

Rather, Nobunaga will simply force you into sexual acts that don’t comprise of penetrative sex - specifically, he grows to love oral, both receiving and giving it. There’s something just so intimate about it, so sweet and personal and loving, and every time that you deny him sex, he’ll often just grumble at you, narrowing his eyes before softly sighing, letting a little smile grace his lips.

Okay then baby, but you know all you have to say is that you want me to taste that little pussy of yours, no reason to go cryin’ or making a big show when you just want my mouth.

He’ll sit you down on the couch or chair, licking his lips and spreading your legs. He’ll always insist on being naked - it’s not truly a passionate moment between two lovers if clothes are separating your bodies, right?

How can he fully take in the lovely sight that is you and your pleasure if a shirt is covering up your tits and tummy, or shorts blocking your sweet, tight little cunt, stopping him from tasting and touching and fucking?

And so, with both your clothes and his stripped away from you, he’s leaning in, licking a stripe up your slit and letting his eyes roll to the back of his head, your taste making him feral no matter how often he gets it. His dark hair is down around his shoulders, slipping forward as he leans in closer and closer, practically suffocating with how tightly his nose is pressed to your clit, his lips flush with your folds as he licks and sucks, letting his tongue dip inside to rub at your walls.

His hands will always find purchase on your hips, fingertips squeezing and groping at the soft fat. He fucking loves when you clench them around his head, his hips bucking involuntarily and a moan slipping out against your folds, the pressure making him dizzy and be forced to press even closer to you, eliminating any bit of space between his face and your body, sandwiching him in as if you never, ever want to let him go.

He’ll eat you out with vigor, spit getting everywhere and slick coating his lips, chin, nose and cheeks, just making an absolute mess of both you and himself. His stubble tickles against your sensitive clit, the feeling pleasurable despite yourself, and often he actually will be able to make you come this way, your body betraying you and giving into his ministrations. But oh, you coming is not the worst part - absolutely not, not when he’s so damn vocal, never shutting up even when he’s got his tongue buried inside you.

He’s insistent on narrating the whole experience, constantly throwing you praises and talking about how you’re so good, how you taste so sweet and delicious and fuck, you little minx, you like seeing me get all dirty from this little cunt? Makes you wet? I can feel you clenching around me - you’re so dirty baby, my bad girl.

He’ll be telling you about all the things he wants to do to you, peppering sucks at your clit between his words. Baby you don’t know how badly I need this pussy, how bad I need to fuck you - mmm, gotta show you you’re mine, make sure you know this cunny is mine. You’ll be so damn pretty all stuffed full of me, I know you can take it, you always take my fingers so well.

He’ll pause to give a series of thrusts of his tongue inside you, his finger rubbing circles at your clit that leave your toes curling.

Y’so good, this cunt was made for me, huh princess? It’s obnoxious, his words making your skin crawl, and the only genuine way to get him to shut up is to tangle your fingers into his hair and pull, pressing his face as tightly against you as possible and keeping him there, so that he can’t move back to talk.

And Nobunaga, ever the optimist, doesn’t see your irritation. If anything, he sees this as a sign that you want more, that he feels good and he’s doing a good enough job that you’re desperate for him to finish you off, that you need him to make you come, that only he can get you coming, spasming and spilling slick all into his eagerly awaiting mouth.

He’ll just groan, moans constantly slipping from his lips and muffling against your folds, and frankly, if he wasn’t a sick freak, you’d almost find the sight hot. Because really, a tall, strong man on his knees, face buried in your pussy while he blindly sucks and licks, rubbing his face in you like a dog, panting and cheeks bright red?

He’s the picture of depravity, pathetic and sad, but once he finally pulls away (with strands of your slick connecting him to your cunt, his lips licking feverishly at his lips), he’ll just smile wobbly at you, pressing one last kiss to your clit and whispering that he can’t wait until we’re finally one, I promise I’ll make you feel so good, I want you to squirt for me baby, would you be willing? I want to make you feel the best you ever have - Daddy knows exactly what you need, after all.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Daddy kink

It’s a pretty recent development, really - before you, he’d never felt any particular draw to being called Daddy in the bedroom.

Really, he didn’t even find sir or master or any other name attractive - it was weird, something he never really understood the appeal of. And even in the beginning of his infatuation with you, this is mostly true - it’s not until he hears you making a joke that things begin to change.

He’s following you one night, listening to you chat on the phone with a friend (a female friend, he checked, though he still doesn’t like that you hug her every time you see her, or that you end each call with a love you, but he lets it slide since he knows you don’t really mean it, at least not in the way that you love him).

You’re laughing at something she said, before saying something along the lines of at least he didn’t make you call him Daddy - imagine that! Your voice went up a few octaves, squealing out a mocking fuck me, Daddy!

Nobunaga’s frozen, his eyes stuck on your face, your words ringing through his head. It’s not that he’s immediately taken with the name, but rather that he notices, in that moment, that it seems to slip off your lips really easily - you sound good saying that, not whiny and annoying like the women in porn sound.

His brows furrow, but he quickly knocks it aside as you keep moving, staying in the shadows so that he can move with you, too. He doesn’t really think of it again until later that night, when he’s standing in your doorway, watching your sleeping figure.

Daddy, huh?

Now that he was giving it some thought, he could see why some men liked it - it was weirdly authoritative, something that felt taboo on his tongue, the way you’d said it even more. He lets the thought marinate, mind wandering to imagining the way you’d sound moaning it, your face all scrunched up in pleasure and the petname falling from your lips as you scratch at his back and clench down on him. It’s a pleasing image, and Nobunaga gulps and shifts his weight, deciding that okay, maybe I could get behind this whole ‘Daddy’ thing.

It’s not until he falls deeper into his obsession that it really starts taking root, though - not until his delusions have fully set in, his mind warped and untethered from reality that he really starts liking the nickname, imagining the way you’d smile up at him and call him that, your lips curving and caressign the syllables, the sultry tone of your voice, the way you’d set your hand on his chest, as if wanting more, the nickname like some dirty innuendo.

Except, as some of his protective tendencies intensify, the nickname takes on a more encompassing role, something he wants to hear both in and out of the bedroom - he’s flooded with fantasies of the way you’d wake up in the morning, planting a kiss on his lips and little murmur of good morning, Daddy.

He’s daydreaming about the way you’d gasp and moan it when he’s got you on your hands and knees, hand smacking your ass and cock bullying its way into you, your breathy gasps and moans making his head spin.

He decides he really, really likes it, and from the moment you end up in captivity, he expects you to refer to him as Daddy, liking it just as much as Nobunaga.

In the bedroom, though, it must be Daddy - you can get away with Nobu sometimes, but a few whimpers of the petname and he’s feral, pumping into you and desperate to get you creaming around him, to feel your walls flutter and clench down on him, squeezing him like a fucking vice.

He likes the power dynamic the petname incites; he’s your protector, the one who’s always taking care of you, making sure you’re happy and safe and that your little cunt is properly satisfied, so why shouldn’t you refer to him as that?

It only makes sense, and he will be actively referring to himself as such too, often switching between first and third person all in reference to himself. It’s exhausting and you’ll think it’s weird, gross at first, but as time passes you’ll slowly find yourself succumbing to it, it all becoming second nature as you kiss his cheek and tell him thank you for the orgasm, Daddy, I can’t wait for tomorrow’s.

(He expects you to thank him after every sexual interaction - after all, he tries so hard to please you; shouldn’t you be a little grateful for all his effort? Even if he didn’t manage to get you there - he still spent a good forty minutes with his head between your legs, and shouldn’t that count for something?)

Don’t try to fight him on the nickname - it’s too ingrained, and you’ll never win, the petname sticking around. He just likes it, the power rush, knowing that if he’s Daddy, then you’re Daddy’s little princess, his sweet little thing that’s all his to love and spoil and fuck.

It just makes sense, and the thought of you calling him that makes him flush, his cock growing hard, his heartbeat growing erratic because god, what he wouldn’t give to hear it.

Mirror sex

Nobunaga’s got this big, framed mirror set up in the bedroom he’s set up just for you, and its presence is no mere coincidence.

It’s huge, easily covering a good third of the wall, its reflection angled perfectly towards the large bed he shares with you. It’s ornate, and while you wonder at first whether it has a purpose or if he just really likes gaudy interior design, as soon as he gets intimate with you, the question is quickly solved.

He’s obsessed with the idea of watching you while he’s touching you, or while you’re touching him. He wants to see you from every angle, not satisfied with one measly view. He needs to see everything, your front, back, side, every curve of your body on display while he fingers you, fucks your throat, makes love to you, as he likes to say.

(Though, you’d argue that the way he clutches onto you, his hips jackhammering, the way he loses control is all much more reminiscent of a wild animal rather than two lovers - as are the sounds he makes when he’s inside you.)

Not every sexual encounter you two share will involve the mirror, but anytime the two of you are in the actual bedroom, he will be positioning you so that he gets the best view, making sure that either your face or your side is facing the glass.

He’s always telling you to look at it, narrating what he’s seeing, telling you that you look so fucking sexy baby, look at the way you’re taking it so well, look at the way Daddy’s cock is just sinking into you so easy, god -

He’s always praising you, forcing you to sit in his lap facing the mirror and spreading your body out, making you spread your thighs and keep your arms at your side, so that your cute cunt and chest are displayed, perfect for him to fondle and grope all while you watch.

He’ll toy with your folds, spreading them and rubbing teasing circles at your clit, growling in your ear that you’re so damn pretty, look at this princess cunt, always sucking my fingers in, always so wet and ready for Daddy, you’re so dirty baby - always wanting Daddy’s attention.

He’ll cup your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples, laying kisses along your neck and sucking hickeys into your skin, growling about how these tits are so damn perfect, makes Daddy wanna come all over them - you want that, baby? Want Daddy’s cum on your pretty tits?

He’ll make you give him head while he faces the mirror, so that he can look down and see you on your knees, cock disappearing between your lips again and again, all while staring at the curve of your back in the mirror, the way your ass cheeks separate, sighing shakily because you just look so damn pretty from every angle.

His favorite, though, is fucking you with the mirror nearby - particularly, he likes taking you from the back, either facing the mirror or with the mirror at the side. With the former, he can see your face as he fucks you - the way your lips part, eyes rolling to the back of your head, sweat beading at your temple and your brows sinching together. He likes watching you fall apart, and this way he can see your face when you come and watch his cock sink into you, seeing your cute little asshole and grope at your cheeks.

(Especially when your arms give out, collapsing onto your chest with your ass still high in the air, giving him an even better view, one that makes him growl and lean all the way over you, truly looking like an animal as he mounts you.)

When the mirror is set to the side, he pays close attention to the way your entire body is pushed forward by the force of his thrusts, the smack of his hips against yours propelling you forward and making you cry out.

He likes seeing the ripple in the fat of your ass and thighs, seeing how your back arches, and god - the way your tits jiggle, and if they’re big enough, the way they fucking swing? It’s the stuff of wet dreams, and he just can’t stop staring at the profile of your body in the mirror, a hand coming down between your legs to eagerly rub at your clit, grunting out about how you’re so damn sexy baby, Daddy’s sexy girl, fuck fuck fuck!

He’ll even be actively aiming to include the mirror - fucking you directly against it, so that you’re face to face with your reflection, seeing for yourself the way he makes you feel, snapping at you to keep your eyes open and watching.

He’ll even sit you down in front of the mirror, so that your pussy is mere inches away from the glass, and finger you for hours - he won’t give your poor cunt a break, his fingers never stopping their pace as he rubs figure eights on your clit, going so fast and insistent, not willing to stop until he gets you squirting all over the mirror, your pretty reflection tarnished by the clear liquid dripping down the glass, evidence of the way he pleasures you.

He wants you to see how good you look falling apart for him, and how good you look together - how your bodies just seem to meld into one, how every dip and curve of your body perfectly fits against his, how you’re made for one another.

It’s romantic, in his eyes, and while it only really effectively embarrasses you, eventually you’ll grow to enjoy it. Because really, there is something taboo about seeing yourself, and while it made you a bit insecure at first, this way you can see Nobunaga’s face, too. You can see how choked up he gets, how the orgasms you tear from him absolutely wreck him, his cheeks flushed and thin brows furrowed together, even a bit of drool slipping from the edges of his mouth because you just feel so fucking good.

And while you may hate Nobunaga, despise him and wish him dead, there’s something oddly satisfying about knowing that you’re having such an effect on him, that your pussy and body are capable of reducing him to such a fucking mess. It’ll make you feel good, and poor, pathetic Nobunaga will take this as a sign that you want to fuck more, that you’re not satisfied with the every other day schedule you’d been following.

And he’s more than happy to fulfill your wishes - as long as your cunt can handle it, he’d gladly spend the rest of his life snug in its warm embrace - snug inside you.

Corruption kink

Nobunaga is firmly under the impression that you’re a complete and utter virgin.

He fully believes, with every bit of his heart, that you’ve never known the touch of another, that you’ve never been pleasured or have pleasured anyone else.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s true, whether you have more experience than him, even - you are a virgin, and that’s final. Perhaps, you’ve never even kissed anyone before - as soon as the thought flits into his head, he decides he likes it, deciding that it’s the truth, that you’re truly, utterly inexperienced, and therefore it’s his job to make sure you learn.

It’s his responsibility to make sure you’re properly taught, that you feel comfortable and eager to enter this new world of sexuality, even if you’re already proficient. It’s infuriating, the way he totally disregards anything you say that negates this belief, even throwing to the wind any skill you showcase to him - it doesn’t matter if you give him the absolute best head he’s ever had.

You’re still a virgin, and the male body is still an enigma to you. As a result, Nobunaga will feel that he needs to introduce you to sex, starting from the absolute basics - he has to teach you to kiss.

He’ll sit you down, his cheeks a bit pink, this oddly intense look in his eyes as he shuffles closer to you, so that your thighs are flush.

Listen, baby, there’s something I need to show you, he starts, gulping. Kissing goes like this - I’m going to lean in, and I want you to do what you feel me doing. He leans in much too quickly, practically headbutting you in his desire to get his lips on yours, and distantly you wonder who the hell taught him to kiss because there’s too much spit, too much tongue, too much of everything.

But when you don’t respond, he’ll pull back slightly, dark eyes flicking between your own eyes as he tells you don’t be scared, I promise it’ll feel good, how can you get better if you don’t try?

He’ll keep going until you eventually start kissing him back, the moan he lets into your mouth making you shiver in disgust, but he won’t just stop there - the kisses get more frantic, and suddenly he’s pushing you onto your back, hovering above you and letting his dark hair fall over his shoulders.

He’ll kiss you for a long while, enough to leave your lips swollen, before eventually pulling back, panting and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Now, baby, I’m gonna show you how it feels to be touched, if something feels especially good let Daddy know. He’s quick to tug your shirt over your head, letting a smile flit across his lips as he sees your bare chest and stomach (he’d not brought any of your bras with him when he stole you away, and thus you have none to wear - giving him quick, easy access), meeting your gaze and telling you that you’re so beautiful, a body like this deserves to be worshiped, so glad Daddy’s the only one who’s ever seen these pretty tits…

He’ll reach down and cup them, thumbing over your nipples, sucking in a sharp breath because you’re so damn soft. Your face will crinkle up in disgust as he brings his mouth down to suck at them, but he misreads this as pleasure, letting his teeth nibble on your sensitive skin and very lightly biting, making you yelp.

Shh, it’s okay, I know it feels good, just let it take over, don’t fight it baby.

He’ll move to your shorts next, tugging down the hem along with the pretty lace panties he’d forced you into that morning, your body now bare and exposed underneath him. He whines, his eyes wide and irises blown out, a long, slender finger running from your sternum down to your naval, both hands coming down to rub circles right over your hipbones.

Now baby, I know you’re probably scared - but Daddy’s got you, he’ll make sure you’re feeling good.

His voice is uneven, rising and falling along with his heavy breaths, but before you can comment he’s reaching down, spreading your legs and pulling you closer to him. He licks his lips again as he stares, coming down to lay on his stomach and get his face as close to your cunt as he can manage, so that you can feel his breath against your skin.

He’s brushing his fingers along your slit, rubbing at your clit, sinking them inside and curling, his own whimpers slipping past his lips at the feeling of your folds significantly louder than your own.

All the while, he’s telling you that this is called fingering, do you like it? Hope so, because soon Daddy’s gonna put something much bigger inside - no don’t worry! It’ll be good, it’ll feel good, he’ll give you an orgasm, I promise.

Soon he’s reaching down and licking at you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head because you taste fucking divine, and he’s quick to tell you as much, moaning out fuck baby, you taste so good, making me so damn hard - do you wanna see? Do you want to see Daddy’s cock, see what you do to me?

And you don’t really answer, or at least Nobunaga doesn’t listen to your answer - he’s suddenly standing up, ripping off his kimono and letting it fall to the ground, immediately palming his cock and shuddering a bit, his gaze not leaving you. You’re still laying on the bed, and he comes up to stand beside you, his cock mere inches from your face.

See how hard it is for you? You make me like this, Daddy gets so fucking hard when he’s near you, I just want you so bad.

He’s slowly stroking himself, his length already fully engorged, and you can see the way his tip is shining in the light, precum smeared all across it.

He’s biting his lip, slowly bringing it closer and closer and closer, before telling you you can touch it, use firm touches and don’t be scared - it’s warm, and sometimes it moves on its own, but Daddy would fucking love it if you’d touch it.

And when you reach out, slowly wrapping your fingers around it, Nobunaga can’t help but throw his head back and thrust forward slightly, the friction making him hiss. Fuck baby, how’re you so good at this? ‘Ts like you’re made for stroking Daddy’s cock…

After a while of thrusting into your hand he’ll move on, breathing heavily and desperate for more. He’ll lean forward a bit and press his tip to your lips, telling you to open up baby, gotta teach you how to suck cock, we’ll go nice and slow, I think you’ll love it.

He pushes in slowly, with a long, low groan, his fingers clutching at the sheets of the bed, eyes squeezed shut because god, how is your mouth so wonderful and wet and warm? Bob your head baby, back and forth, use your tongue and run it over the tip, mmhm, fuck baby just like that, Daddy likes that, fuck!

He’ll start thrusting too, shallowly, though occasionally it’ll slip too far, the tip reaching back and choking you, and when this happens he’ll just chuckle through a gasp, running a hand through his hair and murmuring soon we’ll get you trained to take it all the way - shit, Daddy wants you to take all of him soon.

Eventually, though, he’ll be crawling back over you, grasping his cock and lining it up with your folds, pressing a deep, wet kiss against your lips and slowly sinking in, hissing out to relax baby, you’re too fucking tight, deep breaths, don’t be scared, Daddy will fuck you right, he’ll make you first time special, just please - please relax or else I can’t get in!

And as he slowly starts thrusting, balls gently smacking against your ass, he’ll lean up to whisper in your ear, one hand finding a home at your breast.

Shh, shh, don’t worry, it’ll feel good in a minute, just gotta stretch you out a bit - yeah? You like that? Daddy likes that too, but it’s gonna get faster, ‘m gonna fuck you a bit harder, get you used to the way Daddy’ll fuck you from here on - nice and hard, just like you deserve, angel.

And with that he’s picking up the pace, ramming into you and groaning your name, burying his face into your neck while you cry out, the sudden change in speed making your back arch. He’s still speaking into your neck, praising you for taking it so well, claiming you’re made for this, that your cute little virgin cunt must want him badly enough that you’re adjusting so quickly, even clenching down on him and grinding back.

He’s in ecstasy, and as he nears his orgasm he’ll pull back slightly, grunting in your ear that he’s gonna come, Daddy’s gonna come inside you, you just - fuck, just look pretty and take it for him, yeah? Shit baby, it’s close, little cunt’s squeezing so tight, oh - oh fuck, it’s coming, take it all for Daddy, take it -!

And soon there’s little spurts of warmth, making you feel sticky and wet, and Nobunaga’s moaning in your ear, slurred syllables of your name as his hips rut and unevenly clap into yours, the last bits of his orgasm slowly leaving him.

He just likes talking you through everything, pretending as if you’re fully innocent, as if he’s the very first one to get his greedy hands on you - after all, you’re his, and wouldn’t it just be perfect if you’d been saving yourself for him?

Wouldn’t it just be right if you’d been carefully thwarting other men, keeping your virginity intact so that it can be taken by the only one who really loves you?

Nobunaga thinks so, and even after he’s fucked you a few times, the patronizing way he guides you and teaches you never really fading.

(Often, he’ll even teach you the wrong things - he’s showing you how to properly touch yourself so that you can take care of yourself when Troupe business takes him away for periods of time, and you want to scream because he keeps neglecting your clit, the little nub swollen and begging for attention, telling you that it’ll come eventually if you just keep rubbing that spot inside you that feels so good, exactly like his cock does. It won’t, but he seems convinced.)

Just let him believe that you’re utterly inexperienced, that you’re totally ignorant of anything involving sex, because no matter what you say or how you fight him on it, his beliefs are law. Always.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Scent kink

Nobunaga is a dirty, disgusting man.

He has absolutely no sense of boundaries when it comes to you, believing that since you’re lovers and clearly soulmates, there shouldn’t be any boundaries between you. He doesn’t keep anything from you, so why should you keep anything from him?

It would be wrong to not be completely open with one another, and Nobunaga takes this in the most literal sense. As a result, he has no shame when he discovers his affinity for smelling you. You’ve always had a scent he likes; something calming, a hint of sweet, something smooth and warm and sexy, and that’s just your natural aroma, something Nobunaga swears is his own personal drug.

But your cunt?

Well, that smells like something else entirely - something earthy, musky, heavy, and because you insist on wearing panties at all hours of the day, he’s bit limited on when he can get a good, deep sniff like he wants.

(Although, you’ll notice that when he’s got you naked, spread before him and ripe to tease and fuck and taste, he’s always leaning down, getting his nose right up to your folds and inhaling, deeply enough that its audible, making you embarrassed and try to close your legs. This only inadvertently brings his head closer, giving him an even better smell, making him moan and start rutting against the nearest surface.)

Instead, he has to find alternative outlets when the mood strikes him and you’re not currently getting intimate.

And so, Nobunaga falls back on those damn panties, deciding that if you’re going to be so insistent and constantly wear them, then he’ll make the most of it.

There is no dirty laundry hamper with him - when you’re done with a pair, you must hand them to him, directly, reporting to him how long you’ve had them on, whether you were aroused while wearing them, and if so, what you were thinking about.

He’ll keep them stashed away, one always tucked into the waistbelt of his kimono, so that whenever the mood strikes him, he can reach down and take a good, long sniff, sighing and palming himself through his clothing.

You just smell so damn good, and he’ll hold onto them until you’re complaining that you don’t have any more clean ones, that you need to do the laundry. He’ll just cock a brow and tell you that he’s not convinced you want them all that badly, why don’t you show Daddy just how much you want them.

And it’s only after he’s down fucking your throat that he’ll hand them back over, ready for you to clean them, only for the cycle to restart all over again.

(Although, for the mean time, since you don’t have any to wear while you’re cleaning, why don’t you wear a pair of his underwear - don’t mind the fresh, suspicious stains. That’s not cum, just - just something that looks like it, that’s all. Just put them on, because he’ll keep those after you’re done too, smelling both your scents combined, something perfect and wonderful and unexplainably ours, as he likes to say.)

Thigh riding

While he prefers to be taking an active role in your pleasure, even Nobunaga can’t deny that there’s something enticing about the idea of you just using him, of simply watching you try and get yourself off using his body.

It just reinstates his belief that you need him, that you aren’t capable of orgasming without his touch - or, at least, without his body. It makes him feel good, and very quickly he’ll be perching you on his knee, smiling at you with that same half-lidded, dopey grin, telling you to go wild baby, Daddy wants to watch you make a mess.

He’ll help guide your hips at first, pushing you down a bit and forward, making sure your cunt is rubbing against the muscles of his thigh, humming out a that’s it baby, good girl, keep going.

Then he’ll lean back, staring at you the whole time, enjoying the feeling of your cunt slowly growing wet, the slick smearing across his bare skin, the warmth overwhelming. It’s a real test of his patience, though, because while you look incredibly hot rutting against his thigh, dragging yourself along the muscle, it’s excruciating having to hold himself back from just impaling you on his cock, grabbing you by the hips and yanking you down so that he’s buried in that wet heat you’re teasing him with.

But he’ll grit his teeth, trying to distract himself by staring at your body. He likes the way your tits sway when you do this, nipples pebbled and peaked, and he’ll often reach out and pinch at one, liking the way you yelp and jerk a bit. He’ll watch the pudge of your tummy, your abdominal muscles rolling and clenching as you slowly work yourself, his fingers longing to reach out and grope at the soft fat.

And your face? Oh, he thinks you don’t realize how seductive you look like this - biting your lip, desperate to get more friction and more solid pleasure, the feeling of grinding against his thigh not nearly enough to get you off.

And eventually, he’ll take pity on you, asking if you’re close. You’ll whine and tell him no, ‘m not, I need more, and Nobunaga can’t help the way his cock visibly bobs at that, at what you’re insinuating. You want Daddy’s cock, baby?

You’ll hate yourself for it, but you’ll nod, needing something more than what you’re currently getting, but Nobunaga won’t mind providing for your needs - not at all, liking the idea of you being all desperate and needy for him, for his touch and body and cock.

So while it’s not something that happens super frequently, when Nobunaga wants to teach you a lesson or just simply watch you, he’ll put you on his thigh, telling you to get to work, give Daddy a show, and expecting you to hump and grind at him until you’re near tears, desperate enough to come that you’ll beg.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

In general, most activities in the bedroom with him will be more humiliating, always making you feel like you’re incompetent and in need of being taught a lesson (how to properly take his cock, how to behave, how to just lay there and look pretty while he does all the hard work).

There’s just something about him that makes you feel small and weak, and with the way he’s always spouting nonsense about how you really feel, total delusions about what you are and what he’s done to you, you’ll slowly feel like you’re going crazy.

But Nobunaga, on the other hand, loves the atmosphere between the sheets with you - he’s been dreaming of getting intimate with for so fucking long, wanting to touch you and kiss you and make you scream his name, and now that he’s finally, finally getting to do all those things, he’s a bit of a lost cause.

He’s so consumed by all the various fantasies he wants to enact with you that he gets swallowed up, too overwhelmed to really wade his way through. And yet, there’s this one scenario that’s been in his head for as long as his feelings for you have been in his heart; that is, Nobunaga wants desperately to give your cute little pussy an inspection, to study every part of you and make sure that everything is in working order, that you’ve been good.

It’s a way to exercise his control over you, feeling dominant and powerful and like he’s taking care of you, but even more than that, it allows him to unabashedly stare at you, to examine the most intimate part of you. It gets him giddy, just the thought making his cock stand at attention, his fingers shaking a bit and his heart thrumming in his chest.

It would just be so damn hot, and you’d look so cute at his mercy, with your fingers spreading your pussy lips so that he has the best view, legs spread wide open to accommodate his body, because he really has to be as close as possible in order to really observe, to really see everything.

It’s something he’s always idly wanted, and as soon as he’s got you under his thumb, he’ll be enacting it - he’s just looking out for you after all, because while he cares about every part of you, he’s especially partial to your little cunt, so much so that he’s willing to take the extra time and give it the care and attention it deserves. More than willing.

He’s still in that honeymoon stage, having only relocated you a few days ago, and as soon as you walk out of the bedroom, rubbing at your sleepy eyes and yawning, he’s beaming. Immediately he’s racing to you, arms circling around your torso as he squeezes you into a hug, leaning down and letting his nose burrow into your neck, breathing deeply. “Goodmorning baby, how did you sleep?”

You’re still all shy, not able to look at him in the eye, and as you pull back, you mumble a small ‘good’. Nobunaga sighs, fingers playing with a piece of your hair, before resting his hands on your shoulders.

Part of the reason he’d been in such a good mood this morning was that today was a very special day - he’d had this planned for months now, excitement brewing in his chest as the days drew closer and closer, eagerness settling in his chest. It was finally the day he’d decided that he’d give you a proper inspection, just to make sure that your pussy is all ready and prepared for him, so that he can get you feeling good and making you cream daily from here on out.

He shivers, swallowing. “Okay baby, follow me.”

He takes you over to the dining table, the wood an oaky color, and tells you to hop up onto the table. “Go on, get that cute little ass up there.”

You follow his commands without any hesitation, settling yourself on the table and looking at him expectantly. He was playing with his hands, tongue flicking out over his lips, and distantly you wonder what he has in mind.

“Spread your legs, angel, Daddy wants what’s in the middle.”

You blanch at his words, embarrassment creeping up your spine. When you don’t move, Nobunaga’s smile twitches a bit, and he’s grabbing your ankles himself, spreading your legs and shimmying your panties down your thighs, stuffing them firmly in his pocket as he gulps. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty…”

You can’t look at him as he settles onto his knees, coming closer until he’s right eye level with your cunt, his lips slightly parted to accommodate the way his breathing is growing more labored by the minute.

After a few moments his gaze flicks up to you. “I’ve gotta take a good look at this pussy baby, gotta make sure you’ve been good. Daddy can’t fuck you until he’s sure you’ve been a good girl, that you’ve been taking care of yourself and you aren’t too stretched out from him showing you how to finger yourself the other day.”

He licks his lips again. “Spread yourself for me.”

You do as he says, pulling your lips back to expose the soft inside to his prying gaze, the cold air of the kitchen making you clench up. Nobunaga watches the movement carefully, unable to look away as you lightly spasm, nervous and embarrassed at the way you’re so exposed for him. He’s tilting his head this way and that, looking at every angle, eyes appraising every nook and cranny.

“Fuck baby, looks good so far… let’s check that little clit.” He’s nearly whispering now, too lost in his own world as he reaches out and brushes his thumb over your nub, chuckling when you jerk a bit at the contact. “Good, you’re sensitive… Daddy likes it when you’re sensitive.”

His thumb comes down to swipe over your hole, feeling the way you clench yet again at the slight contact. He throws you a playful glare. “You’re so dirty, getting all excited from the inspection. Daddy’s gonna have to punish you for that, you know.”

You shiver at his words, biting your lip and shoving your hips forward, a bit of your confidence having returned despite his heavy stare.

“Mmm, you’re not as wet as I hoped, but that’s okay, I can still get what I need…” He trails off, before leaning forward and licking a long, languid stripe up your exposed hole, closing his eyes and letting the taste of you sit in his mouth, smacking his lips a bit to make sure he fully tastes your flavor. “Good, good, you taste like you should baby. So proud, you’re doing so good so far.”

He gives you a little kiss on the inside of your thigh to punctuate his point.

“Only one thing left now, baby, almost done and then -” He shudders. “Then, we can do something more fun - Daddy can show you what he’s been wanting to do to you since last night.”

You’re still spreading apart your lips, and Nobunaga gets ever close, a finger prodding and lightly pushing into you, feeling around your walls. It almost feels like he’s searching for something, curling and rubbing against certain areas.

Soon it stops though, and he lets that dopey, too-wide smile slip onto his lips. “Perfect baby, Daddy’s little cunt is nice and tight. You’ve been good, haven’t been putting anything too big up there - that’s good, it’ll show you how nice and big Daddy is, how he can fill you up just right.”

He shivers at the thought, leaning forward one more time to give a nice, hearty suck right over your puckering hole, before pulling back and licking the slick off his lips. Soon he’s standing up, his kimono untied and falling to the floor, and he’s grabbing your hips, flipping you over so that you’re on your stomach, ass pulled to the edge of the table. He leans over you, cock pressed against your asscheeks, and you feel him throb as he sighs out.

“Ready, baby? I know your pussy’s ready - I can read her like a book, it’s Daddy’s pussy, after all. And she’d never lie to Daddy…” He traces a finger up your spine, before grabbing your neck, slender fingers wrapping around the thin skin.

“Now get ready to scream Daddy’s name, and don’t worry about making a mess. I’ll clean you right up.” He lines his tip up with your hole, spreading your cheeks ever so slightly to make room for himself. “Remember to tell Daddy when you’re coming, he wants to come with you. Deep breaths, angel, it’s going in now.”

And as he pushes in, he can’t help but groan - you were still so damn tight, his inspection not lying when he’d discovered you hadn’t stretched yourself out on anything lately. He gasps your name and pushes in flush, his balls snug against your clit, before coming down to kiss at your shoulders. “Remember, if you want to show Daddy you love him, you’ll come for him. And you do love him, right?”

You answer with a mix of a sob and a moan as he starts clapping into you, hips smacking so loudly it’s the only thing audible in the tiny kitchen, aside from your cries and his grunts.

And, when you’re wailing out that you’re close a few minutes later, Nobunaga can only groan, feeling his own orgasm hurtling towards him. This is the last part of the inspection, the last thing you need to pass before Nobunaga’s free to fuck you as he pleases - can you hold everything he gives you? Can your little pussy store every last drop he pushes into you?

And, the more important question that comes a few minutes after that - can it hold two loads?

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere nobunaga #yandere nobunaga hazama #hxh smut #_lee's profiles #_hxh #_nobunaga hazama

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mitsususu · 4 years

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Harder, better, faster, stronger, with all the emotions that make us human. Below are my Top 5 favorites:

“Metallurgy” (M, 22k) by eyres, art by TheFriendlyPigeon

The battle quieted for the moment, the great metal giant turns, at last, and sees Steve. Dark, almost human hair frames a sharp, steel face - but, Steve is caught by its eyes. They’re bright silver, sparking in the sunlight, shot through with gray and blue, visible even at this distance. Something about them nags at Steve, calls to him, reminds him of…

Instead of making the Winter Soldier, Hydra transfers Bucky's consciousness to a metal body, locking his mind within a prison of steel and programming. However, Bucky is stronger than they could've ever imagined.

+ WW2 to Avengers. Stunningly beautiful and tender. “Bucky cracks open his eyes, silver glinting in the growing sunlight. “Steve?” he says and how had Steve not known it was him every time he said his name? No one says his name like that but Bucky.”

-☆-

“Living Your Best Life” (T, 5k) by 74days

Bucky Barnes isn't lonely. He's not. But the new UI 'AmeriCap' has made him realise just how much he depends on it... when it stops working.

+ Modern AU. Steve has a personality and gets to be a Real Boy

-☆-

“ex machina” (E, 2k) by yellow_crayon

“Look, I didn’t rent you for your charming personality program,” He snapped, leaning forward and breathing in the artificial alpha pheromones coming from the blond sexbot’s skin. “Fuck, you smell really good. Stark said your agency had good service, time to prove it, buddy.”

(Bucky tries to order a sexbot for his heat. It does not go well.)

+ Modern AU. A/B/O. Being in the right place at the right time (or is it the other way around?)

-☆-

“Poppies of the Field” (M, 63k) by kaasknot

"Thank you for purchasing a StarkTech Companion 'Bot! Please state your name for licensing."

Wherein Bucky is a severely agoraphobic combat veteran, and Steve is the android he buys out of loneliness.

+ Modern AU. The one with android rights and body upgrades. TW for body trauma

-☆-

“The Smith Prince” (G, 26k) by Niitza

A Pepperony fairytale. In which King Howard is a dick and so there is a curse, but also: a witch that is much nicer than he is, a kickass queen, a captive princess who is also the best knight of her realm, a genius prince whose heart is so big he keeps giving out little pieces of it (but in a good way), as well as exclusive glimpses into the epic courtship of Stoven and Bucket. Also, a happy ending, but everyone probably expected that.

+ Fantasy AU. Bucket and Stoven are household appliances and have a Grand Romance

-☆- And a special freebie -☆-

"Sex-bot Bucky” (E, 13k) by roe87

Shield Tech makes high end, life sized sex dolls for public consumption.

Steve Rogers is a robotics engineer, one of the best... until Shield takes Steve's designs and fires him.

The day Steve goes to try reason with Shield, a Bucky bot comes alive and happens upon Steve as he tries to escape.

So they run off together.

+ Modern AU. Steve is Bucky’s favorite, and whatever Bucky wants, he gets.

-☆-

*More Stucky Recs here

#stucky #stucky fic #yellow_crayon #eyres #niitza #74days #roe87 #fic rec #Top 5 Favs

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deviationdivine · 5 years

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The Stoic Prince (RK900!Prompt Request)

TLDR: To you he’s a smug pain in the ass but you still fantasize about getting dirty with him at the DPD.

Word Count: 1,912

TW: Language, Suggestive Themes, Smut Fantasy

A/N: Follower/Reader Appreciation Drabble | Prompt: “Why the hell am I attracted to snarky stuck up dick faces?” - anon request! Thanks for participating nonnie! This went somewhere else. 1 in the queue done! Onto the next!

"Why do you even bother talking to it?"

Bitter taste of coffee barely touches tongue. Peering up at the question leaves a tiny smirk across lips, which did a hesitant skim of cup rim. Can the DPD honestly get a better brand to chug out of this dispenser?

“Excuse me?”

Purposely hedging away from your co-worker’s sudden interrogation hardly hides the clear tinge of artifice lacing words. Speaking any further may give away this ploy. Of course you know who they mean. He is the only smug jackass that does a heck of a job digging under skin.

Tall, imposing steel scoping a sea of puny humans to gnaw on, using his steadfast jaw, cut from stone if he were made of clay to be fitted by the gods themselves. Plastic, metal – raw material configured, manipulated into eye catching aesthetics.

Fabricated beauty and despite a brusque imperious affectation streaming out of those cool, pert lips. Often times you fantasize how human, warm they might taste. Not just against your mouth but gliding in a hungry appreciation upon every inch of skin made readily available.

To say you had the hots for Nines is an understatement. To say it can go anywhere is another quandary in your grand scheme of things. Natural enigmas be damned he is a walking puzzle waiting to be stripped of his authoritarian programming and cynical attitude.

Unfortunately those gods decided pompous and hypocrisy should be star qualities. Incessantly rolling eyes at your luck, leaning casually into table, coffee machine obscured by your current position, sank an invigorating quiet into your weary body for a brief moment.

Breaks are never long enough. At least there isn’t a sign of top human asshole of the Detroit Police. Rather not have to put a foot up his ass again. However, let’s get back to the inquiry at hand since it hasn’t left the break room.

“Daydreaming about it? Wow, Y/N.”

Sounds like some others you’ve known in the city. Detroit is just a heaping pile of garbage on a good day. Android fever is still in full swing and not how society originally saw it unfolding. "Don't call him that." You defend him while not in his presence. Better to keep it that way because no way in hell are you admitting how fast you’d drop clothes and get down with the rigid android on the force. "Just because he's an android, I mean." The female officer rolls eyes at you. "Uh huh. Sure. Next time you’ll tell me Reed’s going out for drinks with Anderson and Connor.”

Considering androids do not drink she’s a long way off course. You snort.

“Better luck with puppy eyed boy,” the officer jabs, smug. “He doesn’t look like he wants to eat people alive. Or maybe that RK900 just wants to eat you out.”

Nearly spitting coffee all over moves you in a quick step forward, grabbing a napkin out of dispenser to brush splotches of brown liquid off shirt. Eat you out?! Yeah, absolutely!

Perfervid antagonism blinds your gaze resting in a target over fellow officer all consuming in personal embarrassment. Truth is not far from luscious fantasies swirling in nightly subconscious. More than a few dreams about tangling body, flesh and humanity with synthetic, plastic and robotics transforms sleep. It is a burning secret.

A mystery garden planted between the cages absconding the heart ruminating for something of construct, designed in perfection but never mind false images. Never mind unnatural heavenly auras built around a shell of mechanized man. He is everything you can dream about but never will quite openly acknowledge.

One more step and – "Your heart rate is dangerously high for caffeine consumption."

The calculating voice of the RK900 hovers close, sinking in smooth and curt. A statement more so than concern but appropriately edged with his swift, sharp stride into break room.

Fusing a firm hand atop your shoulder seemingly resonates effectively. Analysis is punctual upon your figure as are the sweeping steel he possesses to invoke fear in opponents. He stares down suspects and useless colleagues alike. However there is a bit more skill in you out of most among these humans. He keeps silent, studying a wide appreciation in your eyes.

Pupil dilation is telling to an android who measures subtlety, language in the human form, moving under its own command. Rarely does he witness a shining example of what is referred to as a poker face in most offenders. Upon you it is quite - delicious.

The spike in vitals draws him. Nostrils flare in your personal radius sampling as a bloodhound on a ferocious hunt. Fluctuations respond exquisitely as you are equally confounding in his state of processing.

Do you honestly believe you will affect him in such a wasteful way without retaliation? The form in which he shadows your trembling inhibitions is opposite of what is desired in potential partners. This android does not care in the slightest for decorum.

He will pull you into his awaiting grasp, splaying atop his smooth marbled chest, wanton in prurience, undone from the molecules that form soft, fragile flesh. Tasting your essence will act as more than data on a long, skillful tongue. It will bury into the nerves breaking down your barriers in a flood of rapture.

All it takes is a deliberate push. Buttons unfastening with each poke he prods, bleeding into your skin and he does so intentionally to gain reaction. Steeping within your system liquefies him to the plasma running through veins.

Just as thirium runs a gamut of power to biocomponents he readily will be the life force keeping your mortal existence afloat. So it will be because he wills it out of a viral need you have unwittingly but most adoringly spread into his frame.

His lips twitch faint. A tiniest curve unseen by naked eye but he settles them to a hard line.

Your entire body shivers giving away how good he’s gotten you. Damn it. And he’s looking awfully smug about it all. Somehow he manages to keep his stoic façade nestling in his wide, masculine exterior; handsome is a mere flash in the pan for Nines.

He is beyond definition. You think he knows it too. Why else does he single you out? Making you literally sweat, taking great pleasure in how you behave and pretending nothing is happening.

What a complete and total jackass! Sometimes you swear he fakes this hard ass persona to look the part. Actually, no he’s built this way. Deviancy does nothing for him!

Collecting yourself is instinct and self preservation kicking in. Nobody in their life will get away with this but he melts your strong core down to a puddle. Limpid steel expunges self control. In front of him you strive to be alert so it's not obvious but there was more warmth underneath his imposing touch than you can stand.

God, he's too good. Flicking eyes down the length of his body drives a surge in your heart, thundering in desperation to current fantasy riding out awake.

Strewn atop table, legs around his waist; ripping open that damn white jacket, digging fingers against defined pecs visibly bursting at the seams through black material, fluffy camouflage to a toned body. Taking you right then and there, moaning his name, sinking fingers into exposed synthetic skin because you want to lay into him as heavily as he lays into you.

Biting of perfectly white teeth, licking languid, sensual from smooth tongue and pounding your body on hard surface, pain thumping against the plane of your back but you beg him for more.

Ravenous, unfiltered and insatiably poetic while he completely ravages whatever is left of you, nearly collapsing the chosen surface of your hungry carnality. Eye witnesses neither ceasing nor distracting from the obvious orgasm you will ride on high in the clouds of your mind.

Breath catches in a mystifying glaze sparkling up to his hard narrowed brow. A daylight delusion swept hold at the least private location for you to be horny. For a minute you fear he knows what went on in your head. A predatory slit of Nines’ eyes tracks each minute expression, fidget you relay. He resembles an albino king cobra, flaring a shroud to engulf you in his beguiling shadow.

Hammering against ribs betrays you to the point of imagining the entire precinct eavesdropping on the laborious thud. A small inhalation expands his chest one he hardly requires for oxygen but absorbs your arousal. Oh, it’s very obvious. You have a bit of a problem between your legs right now. Fuck.

"Peak performance suggests you not consume more than the recommended dose of caffeine, Detective.”

The android’s voice is deeper, darker than usual. Almost testing, watchful of how your body will respond next. Enough so that a smirk graces the mouth you wish to ascend in prayer to the immediate issue you physically suffer. He will cure such issue predominantly efficient. “Coffee will not help your productivity if you misuse it." Misuse it, huh? Oh, you’re sure nothing will be of misuse here. Preferably his tongue; you screw up your face to hide the lust.

Why the fuck is he looking like that? Does he realize people will start noticing? Honestly, it’s first time you realize it’s just the two of you in the break room. Guess he scared off your former gossip partner. "Why do you care what I do anyway?” Seething at his game and the fact you’re turned on at work, you slam a finger into his chest. Stabbing him doesn’t move his perfect posture but it sure does make you ache more. “It's not as if it's worth your time."

Nines’ head cocks to the side marginally amused by this insolence. He finds it cripplingly fascinating on a good day but why voice such trivialities?

“Perhaps if you behave in a professional capacity, Detective Y/L/N?” Leaning in to brush the words beside ear, purposely expelling artificial breath to lick your skin, the android fuses fingers against your hip.

A slow slide kisses beneath the android’s tempting fingertips allowing the hitch of your natural breath fuel his personal stimulus. Aroused by you will not go without discipline. There is only one kind he imagines to have utmost potency and satisfaction.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Nines switches to informalities, dangerously silken. “Do you wish every advanced piece of technology that wanders into the DPD to fuck you? Or is it because I am faster, stronger and more resilient to your needs?”

Gasping is the last vocalization you will give him. Pushing back from you reserves dignity even if you want him to just snag you hard by the hips and throw you down into the evidence room. Quieter, less traffic right now and it’d be a pretty good way to… He just called himself the best and believes it.

Well, it’s true right? No. Fuck his snide self!

You are trying but still…

“Why the hell am I attracted to snarky, stuck up dick faces?!”

Story of your goddamn life apparently and this one is the snarkiest, smuggest, sexy piece of android you’ve had the discomfort and pleasure to meet.

“Get over yourself, Nines!”

Yelling on the way out of the break room only causes looks and you’re sure without turning around he’s still standing there. Tall as hell and making you weak, oh so weak to his stormy sea and he’s already swallowed you up.

Wait until he devours you.

Tag List: @elydith @your-taxidermy

#dbh #rk900 x reader #dbh rk900 x reader #dbh nines x reader #nines x reader #follower/reader appreciation #dbh drabbles #detroit become human #dbh drabble choice #drabble prompt #personal prompts #it's popping off #lets get follower appreciation lit #snarky nines is best nines #oof it's hot here

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 2

Rating: Explicit. 18+

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let’s try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We’re living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn’t actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @vozit @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Peter woke me up at eight AM the next morning like the little shit that he was, demanding I make him pancakes. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had the joy to experience him in the morning and he knew exactly how to antagonise me enough to make him the special pancakes he liked so much. They had become kind of a ritual whenever he stayed over at my house, which was quite often - teachers liked me enough to pair me up with one of the most sensible kids for any projects that couldn’t be done alone by yours truly on her own.

I put on my yesterday’s dress, applied moisturizer and obediently trotted behind an excitedly mumbling Peter. The kitchen was large, beautiful and delightfully empty of any resident superheroes. I’ve indirectly crossed paths with all of the tower’s residents hanging around Tony, but I’ve yet had to speak more than polite niceties to any of them.

Spying a bowl of boiled eggs and some sort of weird salad alongside half burned toast on the counter, I suddenly understood why Peter demanded his pancakes. I strictly instructed the disaster child to stay away from my cooking process and set to work with one ear listening to his ramblings and a headphone in the other.

A set of thumping footsteps appeared behind me as I was pouring the batter for the first pancake. Their owner loudly sat down next to Peter, sighing, groaning, generally making “I’m not a morning person” sounds.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” Peter’s tone was way, way too chipper.

“‘mrng,” The Sergeant grumbled. “Who’s this and why is she making pancakes?”

I turned around, spatula at the ready. “It’s me,” We’ve actually met before, but Barnes had left before I could even come over from my side of the work bench to say hello.

He nodded in acknowledgement after giving me a suspicious once-over. “One of Stark’s science children. I’m James but you can call me Bucky,” His voice sounded rough and gravely, and he clutched a coffee cup half the size of my head.

I snorted. “Science child, sure,” It wasn’t half-bad actually. I wisely choose to ignore the part of being Tony’s. No matter how hot the man was, I wasn’t anybody’s but my own, thank you very much. “Go get the bananas, Nutella and maple syrup, fellow science child.”

Peter scrambled to follow instructions as I plated the pancakes and cut the bananas into neat little rings to fill the sweet circles with. A tablespoon of Nutella, half a sliced banana, wrap, garnish with powdered sugar and pour maple syrup generously on top. I really didn’t see how this could be difficult but any and all attempts to teach Peter how to recreate my masterpiece always ended up in an absolute mess. I turned around to ask Bucky if he wanted any. The look of a man starved answered all my questions.

“You’re a goddess,” Peter moaned around his mouthful, nose smudged white with the powdered sugar.

“Gross, chew first then talk, you neanderthal,” I scoffed, prepping more batter for the second batch of pancakes. I wasn’t sure if everybody would show up but figured it would be rude to exclude them from the sheer magnificence that were my pancakes. I was just that good.

The music in my ear drowned most of Peter’s disgusting chewing noises, thankfully. My second batch vanished into thin air, inhaled by the two males like the garbage disposals that they were. Peter, in particular, ate an alarming quantity of food and I was surprised how he managed to stay so skinny. His daily eating schedule resembled the Hobbits.

More people appeared, this time acting less surprised regarding me standing at the stove. Hawkeye, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch and her brother, all of them wandered in wearing sleep attire with various amusing prints. Thankfully, they mostly kept quiet or chatted with Peter - I would have definitely grumbled if someone tried to talk to me. As far as my body was concerned it was still the middle of the night.

“PANCAKES,” A booming voice announced and I shuddered at the sheer intensity and devotion contained in that one word. Thor.

“Please use your indoor voice,” I snapped reflectively. My brain caught up with what I just did so I hastily backtracked. “Sorry, I’m a bitch in the mornings.”

The blonde man chuckled, coming over to poke his nose into my flurry of pour-flip-fill sequence. Then, with all the grace and manners of a prince, he dipped one (1) large finger into the jar of Nutella and wandered off with it stuck in his mouth. With this turn of events the Nutella was bound to run out sooner than expected.

I turned around, annoyed confusion in plain sight. “The fuck?.. That’s gross, don’t do that,” Finding his brother (adopted!) sitting next to Thor, wearing a haughty smirk, finger still in his mouth. So Loki turned into his brother to steal Nutella from a jar. I sighed. Nobody even batted an eye. “Your alien germs are in there now, double ew.”

“Alien germs? Where?” Bruce entered the kitchen with a tablet under his arm, wearing Hulk themed pajamas, Captain America in tow. I was honestly on the verge of breaking down into hysterical laughter. Domestic Avengers wasn’t something I’d expected to see or experience, ever, much less be a part of. It took a moment for me to remind myself that they were people, too, and each of them was entitled to their own quirks.

“America, egg-splain,” Peter muttered under his breath, giggling. “Loki stuck his hand in the Nutella jar,” He pointed at said jar. “She got grumpy,” Peter pointed at me. “Don’t make her grumpy, please, I want more pancakes,” And turned his pleading puppy eyes in my direction again.

“This is indentured servitude,” I pointed my spatula at the little shit. “You just had, like, ten.” But I made more batter nonetheless. I must admit it was kind of cool, seeing the earth’s mightiest defenders so relaxed. And Pete being happy, that was just… The best. I don’t know how to explain it. His eternal cheerfulness was highly contagious.

Chuckles filled up the room, the adults chatting and bickering amongst themselves while they patiently waited for their own breakfast.

“Do you need some help?” Bruce approached me after stopping to fetch himself a cup of tea. It smelled strongly of tangy herbs and honey.

“I need more Nutella and bananas,” I admitted, surveying the sheer amount of people I had to feed. I didn’t doubt the Captain and two Asgardians had an appetite to match Peter’s which meant a literal extra set of condiments was required. Thankfully, Bruce fetched them for me, coming to a stop next to me. “Anything else?”

“You know, I tried making these with Peter and he just ended up with powdered sugar and chocolate all over himself,” I mused, noting the way Banner was carefully observing the assembly of a pancake. “You think Doctor seven-phds can manage to add a few toppings to a pancake without causing a disaster?“

Bruce rolled his eyes fondly, bumping me with his hip. "I’m no Clint Barton when it comes to cooking but at least I don’t burn my toast like Steve,” True to his word, his hands made swift motions of filling, wrapping and plating each individual pancake. They were almost as good as mine albeit more messy. I had lots of practice though. We finished off a batch in companionable silence, sounds of the team and my music playing in the background.

I didn’t notice when I started swaying to the rhythm, catching a confused look from Bruce. I brushed back my hair, revealing a wireless headphone in my ear and he chuckled in understanding. “What are you listening to?”

“Right now? Kings of Leon,” I said, leaning towards him so he could hear the chorus “Use Somebody” currently occupying my right ear.

“I like them, too,” He said, his cheek gently touching mine. His hands slowed on the pancake, a soft hum vaguely reminding me of the song’s melody emanating from his throat. “What else do you usually listen to?”

“Mostly heavier stuff, but I have a whole separate playlist dedicated to mid-2000s bops,” I answered. “I’ve heard I’m quite old school when it comes to music.”

“Well, I am an old man, so…” Bruce grinned mischievously. “But my guilty pleasure is Lady Gaga,” He admitted with a laugh.

I laughed, too. The image of his dancing in his lab to Born This Way was too much for my brain and I hung my head, fighting giggles. Bruce bumped me with his hip again, faking a pout. “Okay, okay, that was a fucking hilarious image, you go dude,” I finally powered through my struggle to contain laughter. “My own guilty pleasure would be… Umm… Lana Del Rey, I guess.”

Bruce made a vague noise of confusion. I took a brief break from mixing the batter to dig out my second headphone, presenting it to him and switching to a song. “This is what makes us girls”. Despite the fact I have never stolen a car or had a close female friend, the nostalgia was real. “Carmen” followed after the first song and I silently thanked whatever deity that “You can be the boss” was taken out of Spotify - I don’t think I was prepared to share that kind of information with a lab partner. An older, handsome lab partner. Wait… Where did that come from?

“I like it,” He said after the song ended and my more usual stuff began playing. “It suits you, I think.”

I groaned. “Really? I think it’s edgy,” Hiding away the embarrassment, I passed him a tray of freshly baked pancakes, occupying his immediate attention.

“You’re an old soul,” He gave me a lopsided smile. I saw a very faint blush tinting his cheeks, the kind of blush that had me wondering about the meaning behind his words.

I gave an attempt at a smile in response, the left corner of my mouth barely tilting up. We talked some more about the rock music we shared in our earphones. I had a lot of 80s hair metal and 90s grunge in my playlist. Bruce was not a Curt Cobain man but enjoyed the works of his legacy, Marcy Playground.

A tan hand wormed its way between me and Bruce, snatching a handful of banana slices and disappeared just as swiftly. “Tonyyy,” Bruce groaned, picking up another banana to replace the stolen pieces.

The spatula in my hand became a weapon as I blindly aimed at the target behind my back. A loud “ow” indicated I hit it. When I turned around, Tony was clutching the side of his face, a hurt look in his eyes and cheeks stuffed full of stolen goods. I stared him square in the face, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was shirtless - the arc reactor glowed brightly in the middle of his toned chest. Fuck.

His chest was honestly what I was aiming for. I constantly kept forgetting how short he actually was. There was this one time when Tony had to put his arms around me to steady a piece of tech - he felt huge, hard and enormous around me.

“What’s that for, Princess?” He finally chewed through his food and found his voice.

“For being a Tony,” I retorted. “Stay away from my workspace and wait for your breakfast like everybody else.”

“Hey! This is my kitchen,” He whined immediately, like the adult man that he was. I nearly cried from how adorable his face became, eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t want to wait! And why does he,” Tony’s finger accusingly pointed at Bruce, “Get the bananas?!”

“Because he’s Brucie-bear,” I stuck my nose up in the air when Bruce’s arm wrapped around my waist. “He’s my science father,” I stuck my tongue out at Tony, seeing Bruce’s triumphant smile. Banner used every opportunity to get back at Tony’s incessant sass.

The gleaming in Tony’s eyes should have alarmed me. “But he’s not your science daddy,” Tony’s flirting was accompanied by a salacious eyebrow wiggle and Peter’s screech of “OH MY GOD!"

It took me every ounce of willpower to not flush. It was one of those rare times that I was at a complete loss of words. Thinking on the spot, I gave a very meaningful look to Bruce - thankfully, he got the gist and returned an equally filthy smirk back. Tony gaped.

"Is this how they are in the lab?” The Captain’s quiet voice leaked horrified amusement.

“All.The.Time.” Peter’s resonating groan was followed by Romanoff’s laughter.

We went up to the lab after breakfast. Thankfully Tony stopped his dramatic bitching when I served him my pancakes, scarfing them down much like everybody else. So me and Pete were accompanied by one (1) happy engineer, all three of us tinkering away on a robot that we were supposed to present in our science class in a month. The focus that was required to solder was immense and our usual banter was missing, replaced by an occasional request for a specific tool or a water bottle.

It took a few hours to get the dirty job done even with Tony’s help (technically he wasn’t supposed to but neither me nor Pete had the heart to forbid him from it when the man looked so content and happy soldering away). By the time I uncurled from my spot on the bench, my back was in knots and my dress had oil stains and holes all over it. I immediately went to the nearest water bottle, finishing half of it in seconds, picking up my phone to see if I had any important messages from my mother.

None.

Just a message from Bruce.

I tapped on my phone, idly scrolling through the Instagram app, liking some pictures of people I barely knew and keeping up a general appearance of being very busy. When the ringtone started playing, it took me a whole five seconds to understand it was, in fact, coming from my phone - I certainly wouldn’t put something so… Outrageous as my main tone.

Banner had discovered the power of the internet. You Can Be The Boss played loudly, and it played from my phone and Bruce was calling me. I picked it up, turning around, fighting the incoming laughter. “Yes, Brucie?"

To say that Tony’s and Peter’s faces were scandalised was nothing. The boy’s face was such a deep shade of red, I started worrying about his blood pressure and Tony’s mouth hung open limply, like he was witnessing the second coming of Christ.

"Is Tony sufficiently traumatized?” Judging by the breathless tone of his voice, Banner was resisting a mighty laughing fit of his own.

“Oh, absolutely,” I happily chirped.

“Good, keep it up. Come to my lab before you leave,” Banner snorted and then, realising what he’d done, promptly hung up, the tell-tale beginning of a giggle fit abruptly interrupted by a dial tone.

I put the phone in my bag, gathering the rest of my things with a look somewhere between innocence and indifference. At least, I hoped it was - my mind kept jumping between the engineer’s ridiculously scandalised face and the way his mouth went slack, lips moist and soft and plush. That’s a very dangerous trail.

A very dangerous trail I couldn’t resist exploring in the solitude and privacy of my own bedroom, at home.

#bun writes #party favours #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n

176 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 1

Rating: Explicit. 18+

Let's try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We're living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn't actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Pining. I was pining after Stark and it made me upset. I thought I was better than that. Better than acting the part of a lovesick puppy, begging for scraps of attention- a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, a blanket thrown over me in my sleep. Even if he was my Mount Olympus, I wasn't exactly on board with starting the whole damn journey in the first place.

Most of all, I hated being a cliché. I tried my best to avoid showing how I felt and with time, I think I excelled at it. I am really good with things if I really put my mind to it. Was it a blessing, or was it a curse? Only the future will tell. I try not to think about it, as I prefer not to stress out too much. Peter was the anxious kid and I was the calm one. I was the Ying to his Yang. He flipped his shit often and I always calmed him down and cleaned up after him. No complaints there, Pete is pure and precious and I would kill everybody and then myself if he actually got hurt.

I'm only a year older than him and that year feels like an uncrossable bridge to me. We get along like a house on fire and I delight in the way he starts smiling when we're paired together for a project. Deep inside I'm sure he thinks of me as one of his best friends, his homies but-and there's always a but-I can't reciprocitate that. He goes to decathlon after school with his wholesome BFF duo, I go to a local dive bar with a fake ID I'd made sometime when I was about 15.

Peter has everything I wish I've ever had. Good for him. I'm not going to mess that up, no matter how much my angst demands I throw a tantrum and become, like, a supervillain or something.

I banter, instead. I chit-chat. I laugh and I repeatedly make a joke out of myself. Nobody suspects a thing, and I'm not surprised. People always see what they want to see. I've been the weird loner since middle school. Not the sad kind, of course, my pride wouldn't let me. I'm too good at things to be completely ignored. Teachers adore me, the event planning committee approaches me every year with tentative pleas for advice. The list goes on and on; what they don't understand is that it's just High School. Another year and I'll be out of there and nobody will be wiser.

I feel like a liar every time I'm excited. Because I'm not that - I don't care about their stupid field trips or collaborative projects. My mind is five steps and two hops ahead of that bullshit. It has to be or I just won't make it in the world.

"Parker-pen, Mr. Stark. G'day, sirs," I nodded, entering the lab, looking straight ahead. They both were hunched over... Something vaguely mechanical and I was terribly, horribly hungover. Saturday night was Science night but I'd gone to bed around 2PM after a party ran way too late.

"Hi," and "Powerpuff girl," came from them respectively, and they didn't even lift their heads.

I wondered if I could just skedaddle and leave them to their big brain time. "Is this a bad time? I can come tomorrow instead," I immediately regretted speaking, even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy.

"No, actually, Dr. Ban-Bruce-wanted to talk to you," Peter mumbled out half-coherently. Tony kept ignoring me and I was fine with that. The less temptation I have the less trouble there will be.

"I'm not playing with his zucchini again," I groaned, causing the intricate pile of metal to squeak sadly as Pete tripped over his own damn body, jostling the prototype in the process. I could have sworn the room got several degrees hotter from the boy's blush alone.

Tony cackled, shuffling away from the newly ruined prototype. "He won the damn contest, you should've seen the judges faces," The engineer's grin threatened to split his face in half. I poked at my phone in muted interest. "Hold up, Friday has a recording. I definitely recorded the thing."

A holo-screen popped up. Tranquil scenes of a local fair, gourds and other assorted vegetables of various grotesque sizes were scattered throughout the square. An unmistakable mop of curly greying hair posed proudly next to a zucchini half the size of Hulk - I was fairly certain genetically engineering the plant was cheating and warned him so but somehow Banner managed to persuade the judges into letting him participate, and ultimately win, the competition for the Biggest Zucchini. Some of them were quite shocked at the size of that thing and well - well, their glances were quite contemplative to say the least.

"Damn, Tony, that blonde chick's face tells me all I need to know," I gave a lopsided smirk in the engineer's general direction. That was our thing, you see? He called me these ridiculous cutesy nicknames and asked me about getting my nails done or going to the mall and I'd make salacious comments and go on an occasional flirtatious spree. That was comfortable. We both enjoyed making Peter blush and giggle like the little schoolboy that he was.

"Our Brucie bear is a freak, don't let him tell you any different, Princess," Tony winked at me.

"Oh, I know all about it, Tones," I suggestively wiggled my eyebrows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter groan and palm his face. I briefly bumped my knuckles to Tony's outstretched hand and made my way to the adjacent lab that hosted the second resident crazy scientist.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, hi there, come on in," He smiled warmly at me and I relaxed, shrugging off the tension in my limbs that seemed to appear every time Tony was around me. Banner's soft, friendly nature always made me feel welcomed and appreciated.

We made small talk as I threw on a lab coat and some protective glasses and discarded my bag in the far corner, away from any possible explosions. I congratulated him on his recent victory - here is when I say that despite what most will say, Banner has a serious competitive mean streak and isn't afraid to get down and dirty when it comes to matters of his personal pride.

That's what makes us alike, I think. I have too much dignity and self-respect to walk around Tony with stars in my eyes and hang around his neck like yesterday's tie.

The quiet, even pace of doing lab work made me completely lose track of time. Some time passed as I felt the crick in my neck become noticeable, and the deep ache in my calves from standing and dancing yesterday worsened. I hopped onto the nearest table, hunched over a tablet, eyes skimming over research articles - most of it didn't register at all in the wake of a dull throb behind my temples. My hair limply hung over my face - I had to wash it to get rid of the stench-hard liquor and cigarettes - but I was way too lazy to style it properly.

I ignored the swaying strands until a large palm gently tucked them behind my ear, a white lab coat coming into my field of view. "You okay?" Banner's quiet voice interrupted my reading. I lifted eyes enough to see he was wearing a dorky button-up in some gross shade of blue under the lab coat. His eyes were affectionate behind thinly rimmed glasses.

"Rough Friday night?" He questioned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm hungover as fuck." There was no point in hiding the obvious; I'm sure the bags under my eyes already had tattled on me.

He chuckled, too, leaning his hip against the table, one broad arm coming to wrap around me in a hug. Usually he wasn't so touchy-feely; but I wasn't complaining. Banner was really, really warm. "I'll spare you the lecture on underage drinking," He said with another chuckle.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless. You'd be three years too late."

A deep sigh left him, both of his arms wrapping around me in a comfortable embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to really avoid showing how touch-starved I was. I was a hundred percent sure they all figured out my family life was difficult; the last thing I needed was their pity.

"Y'know, we should sit down and talk someday," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "About your future. College, maybe?"

I gave a non-committal hum, basking in the warmth of the hug, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes - behind the glass divide, I could faintly distinguish Tony's and Peter's shapes, still bent over that bench the pile of metal.

"You have a lot of potential," Banner continued, his tone developing a gently admonishing hint. "I understand if you want to take some time off from your studies but I'd rather you succeed and not let all that potential go to waste," He finished, patting me on the back with a gentle hand.

I tried not to preen under his touch. "Are you attempting to guilt-trip me over a party, doctor Banner?" I teased him, expecting the smile that I felt being hidden by my hair. Sometimes I felt that I could read the man like an open book, he was so earnest about his interactions.

"I just - we want you to stay safe, okay? Don't blow your future for a little bit of fun," He shrugged carefully.

"Okay, Bruce," I simply replied, meaning it this time

He kept hugging me, running his hand over my back absentmindedly. Probably thinking about his recent science bender. I wasn't upset: my own brain tended to get tangled in personal projects, too. I had only one complaint and it was that the cuddle was making me sleepy.

I yawned, startling the man. Pulling away from the hug wasn't really an option. He was broad and quite strong, probably courtesy of the Hulk and radiation in his blood.

"Why don't we put you in a guest room for tonight?" He inquired and I nodded. "Call your parents for me, okay?"

"My mother is in Vancouver for the week and I doubt she would care anyway," I rolled my eyes. "She's in the middle of some shitstorm with OsCorp and their marketing department." If anything, I was grateful my mother was preoccupied with her job. Being around her was like hanging out on top of an iceberg in the far end of the ocean.

I felt Bruce's frown. His body tensed briefly, blink and you'll miss the hunch of his shoulders. "What about your dad?"

I cringed. "He's been in Ibiza since the season opened, no doubt snorting miles of coke and... " I hesitated. "You can guess the rest."

My dad was kind of a dick, but I don't blame him at all for being the way he is. My parents have been married for twenty years. They were happy, once - I saw their college pictures with my mother's bright smiles and bushy hair, and my dad's terrible fashion sense and their dog, a funny little runt with an atrocious name. Then mother had me and for a while, they were happy too, but it lasted about until she landed her first prospective job. Kind of cliché.

Bruce sighed again. "Okay. You hungry?"

"No, I'm not going near food until tomorrow. Nu-uh," I fake-retched next to his ear, making Bruce shiver and playfully pinch my side.

"It'll help with your hangover. Doctor's advice."

"You're not even that kind of doctor," I laughed, very gently poking him back, somewhere around his stomach. He squirmed.

"I have seven PhDs," Bruce smiled as he rested his chin on top of my head as he adjusted his torso to prevent my fingers from reaching his ticklish spots. I poked him again in retaliation, fully enjoying the snort and squirm I caused. Soft™. "Let's go get you settled in," Bruce, seemingly without any difficulty, picked me up, propping me against his hip like a toddler. It probably looked awkward but what the hell, I haven't been carried around since I can remember myself. My legs wrapped around his hips for balance, butt resting on his forearm.

"You're a showoff," I couldn't help but snort, getting a lopsided smirk in return.

He made his way over to the elevator with me dangling and examining my nails in an expectant fashion. Tony's jokes aside, I really enjoyed getting them done and weird colors were a quest of entertainment for me. I obviously couldn't have them very long because I worked in a lab so I chose outrageous prints and decorations instead. This week, each of my nails had a different style - thankfully my aesthetician was professional enough to make it look somewhat put together even if it took a good chunk of my allowance and an hour long Uber ride to get to her salon.

I noticed the dimmed lights in Tony's lab and none of Peter's usual mess scattered on the tables, figuring he'd already left. Stark himself stood propped against a table, watching something, smoothie in hand.

For only a brief moment, I let my eyes rake over his body, his beautiful, sculpted physique hugged by a pair of fitted jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee. Tony's handsomeness wasn't obvious, it wasn't in-your-face kind of appearance like Captain America's, but the engineer was built sturdy and his arms - the only bare part of him - were riddled with scars. He used his strong, bulky body for work.

I turned away before I got too ahead of myself. Bruce smelled like lab equipment and rubbing alcohol, something that made me sober up and snap out of my daydream before Stark took notice and started teasing me about ogling him. My once-over lasted barely three seconds yet with Tony's genius, I always had to be on my toes.

I saw movement in my peripheral. Banner waved before entering the elevator - at Tony, probably, so I looked back, seeing the man watching us, content replaced with a contemplating frown. I waved at him, resting my cheek on Bruce's shoulder. "Tony's having a big mood," I noted quietly in the scientist's ear.

"You know Tony," Bruce sighed, adjusting his hold on me as the car ascended to the housing floors. "His brain runs a mile a minute and he can't make sense of it for the biggest part. Give him some time and he'll be back to his annoying self."

I didn't see Tony as annoying in any way, but then again, I was severely biased. The billionaire was quirky venturing into absurd but also clever and brilliant.

We had reached our destination and Bruce carefully set me down on my feet once the door to my room was open. A large queen bed, TV and another door to an adjacent bathroom. It was really simple but luxurious nonetheless - I had the exact same carpet at home, having heard my mother bitch about it's cost after seeing me spill soda on it way too many times.

"I'll let you get settled in. Ask Friday if you need something," Bruce awkwardly shuffled his feet, taking off his glasses and briefly examining them before putting them back on again. "Breakfast here is on the 74th floor starting around 7AM, someone will probably get you around nine if you sleep in," He finished, giving a shy tilt of his lips.

"Thanks, Brucie-bear," The nickname easily slipped from my lips. I didn't resist the urge to hug the kind scientist, quickly wrapping my arms around his middle, delightfully sighing when he immediately returned the gesture.

"Good night, Princess," I had to suppress a happy squeak when the man kissed my forehead before retreating and closing the door behind himself. A quick shower and a quest to find a power outlet to plug my charger into preceded my less than graceful flop into the bed. It felt like sleeping on a cloud, honestly, it had nothing on my mother's orthopaedic memory foam mattresses. I passed out faster than I’d ever had.

#Bun writes #party favours #Tony Stark x y/n #Tony Stark x reader #Bruce Banner x reader #Bruce Banner x y/n #Stephen Strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #We're going to Hell y'all

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