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obutsuwrites · 3 years ago

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Just Breathe Darlin'

CW: Dubcon/Noncon, Drug Use, FTM!Reader, POC!Reader, Vaginal terms used, AFAB

You decide having a relaxing night of smoking was good for you. Besides, you're in good hands...right?

“Yeah, my roommate will be gone for the night, you don’t have to worry, sunflower,” he reassures. His voice is smooth as molasses and just as sweet. He smiles down at you, lifting your chin slightly to meet his gaze.

“Mm. Has anyone ever told you that your eyes look like amber in the sunlight?” he remarks with a smirk. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. Looking everywhere else other than his eyes, you chortle once.

“I-I mean I guess so… it doesn’t sound so bad,” you reply with a stutter. As you agree to meet at his place later, you can’t help the fit of giggles that bubbles over as you get to your room before going to look through your closet.

One would never assume Kyojuno Rengoku to be one who partakes in any...recreational activities such as this but who can blame him. College classes are stressful and sometimes you need a relaxer. You never thought making an absentminded comment about never trying weed would get you here, but damn are you happy it did. Kyojuno had been your tutor for history for a few weeks now and it was difficult to focus to say the least. Long golden and maroon hair cascades down broad built shoulders. It contrasts against sun kissed skin and brings focus to his features. One day, he had worn a tank top to your session and you had to keep your legs pressed together not to bring attention to the growing wet spot under you. You wanted to sink your teeth into his biceps. Even now, you lick your lips at the memory of how they flex as he writes.

You shake your head of any more risque thoughts as you focus on getting ready. Eventually, you decide on a pair of comfy shorts and a tank top with a large flannel overlaying it.

Your thirsting did not go unnoticed; Kyojuno noticed right away how your skirts got shorter, pants tighter, shirts becoming almost so low cut you should just be shirtless. He loves seeing your curves on display, amber skin touched by the sun and glowing like the harvest moon. He hungers for the chance to sink his fingers into your plush skin. It looks so soft and supple, just asking to be bit and spanked. He’s lost count of how many nights he had to jerk off to the thought of you on your hands and knees. To how sweet your voice would sound if he gripped your love handles. To the thought of your ass jiggling as his hips slap against you. And now he growls low at the thought.

Pushing it away, he focuses on cleaning his room. He is determined to finally have you in his bed. No matter what it takes.

Around 7pm, he hears a knock at the door. He opens the door with his signature smile, and you admire his tank and sweats. His eyes rake over your body, devouring your appearance like a wolf."You soft tummy pokes from under your shirt, and your shorts are tight enough to show off the pudginess of your thighs" He grips the door slightly to calm himself as he gestures for you to come in.

It doesn’t take long for him to place a brownie in your hand. “Only eat a little at a time, Sunflower. Wanna start you off nice and slow,” he purrs. As you take your first bite, you feel the heat in his gaze as he watches you swallow. His eyes darken as he lights up a blunt. He loads up Netflix and plays some comedy movies to keep the mood easy. You almost melt into the couch as the edible begins to take its hold on you.

You’re like a puppy; ever so eager to please those who give you attention. You eat whatever he hands to you with complete trust. The room fills with smoke and the soft giggles of both of you. You strip off your flannel, allowing him a better view of how your curves look wrapped in the soft clothing. His eyes fix on your parted lips; so soft and biteable.

“Wanna shotgun?” He asks softly. The weed hits him softly but he knows you are close to stuck. Eyes hooded and skin warm to the touch, you look up at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

“What’s..shotgunning?” You slur. He scoots closer, grasping your chin firmly as he tilts your head towards his.

“It’s where I take a drag from this blunt and I blow it in your mouth. But you gotta inhale it so you can feel it too. Can you do that for me, Sunflower?” He explains as he drinks in your intoxicated state.

Nodding in understanding, he takes a drag of his blunt. Bringing your lips closer to his, he exhales and relishes your cute inhale as his lips brush against yours. Pulling back, he allows you space to exhale before you giggle cutely. You lean into him, feeling safe as you nuzzle into his chest. He places a hand on your shoulder gently, encouraging you to lay on him as he slowly moves his hand to your hip. With a brush of his thumb against your skin, he bites the inside of his cheek at your soft mewls and warm skin. You can barely comprehend what is on the TV, let alone what he is doing.

His hand makes its way to the front of your shorts, and a finger grazes over your clit through the cloth. You mewl and giggle, weakly pushing away his arm. Kyojuro only smiles as he adjusts you both on the spacious couch. Sitting you between his legs, he strokes your hips and sides before resting on your chest. You moan softly, head filled with clouds. Every movement feels like nirvana. Kyojuro is confident; hee pulls off your shirt, inches your nipples, and gently tugs them. “Fuck, Sunflower, I wonder how much milk you could get from these,” he whispers in your ear. He squeezes your breasts and flicks your nipples, all the while, drinking in your moans. He kisses up your neck, grinding his cock against your back. He slides a hand into your shorts and moans into your hair.

“Fuck, my sweet boy, you’re so wet for me,” he moans again as he slides thick fingers over your soaked pussy lips. You can’t stop your body from grinding against them. There’s a small voice in the back of your mind saying this is wrong. But he rubs your clit again, and you don’t know what’s wrong or right as another wave of euphoria hits you. Your back arches, thighs shaking as you squirt in your shorts. Your hole clenches around nothing and you hold onto his forearm. He can only stare in amazement at how much you soaked not just your shorts, but the couch underneath too.

Without hesitation, he flips you onto your front, though he’s courteous enough to give you a pillow for your head. He pulls down your shorts and he can’t help but grab handfuls of your ass. At the sight of how your stomach - how it hangs over your shorts - he growls. He pulls down his sweatpants and his cock, hard and ready, slaps against his stomach. He gently grips his cock and pumps it slowly before rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance. With a loud moan, he sinks in; he loves this, loves how your entrance tries to draw him in.

“You’ve been begging for my cock, haven’t you, Sunflower? Always looking like such a slut just for me. right?” He asks. You try to answer, but all that comes out are mumbles and moans. He takes a quick drag before he grabs your face and kisses you forcefully. He uses the moment to breathe the smoke into your mouth. As he pulls back, he sheathes himself fully inside of you. He grins at your dazed look; at the sight, he can’t hold back and he sets a rough pace. Wet slaps fill the room as he pins you down to the couch, only allowing you freedom when he grabs your face and shotguns you. You’re a moaning whimpering mess. And he can’t help but indulge.

“Such a cute puppy for me. Doing anything I say. Ngh, fucking foolish Sunflower. Now, be a good bitch and take my cum,” he says as he holds you close, deep inside you. But he’s not done. He gently thrusts into your sopping entrance before he hardens again, and he laysback, and maneuvers you onto his lap andturns you to face him. He feeding you more edibles and occasionally jackhammers into your pussy; he’s in heaven.

Your dazed body can’t keep up with his animalistic stamina.

“Yes, such a good boy! Take my fucking cock. Drugged up sluts like you were made for me,” he growls in your ear as he forces you to cum with harsh circles of your clit. You can’t process what he’s saying; your eyes roll back and your tongue hangs out and drool drops onto the couch. It doesn’t end.

He feeds you even more edibles, shotguns you over and over, and even shows you how to smoke a blunt on your own. By the time you’re placed on your stomach to clean his cock, your holes are filled with cum. The room wi thick with musk and smoke and any clear-headed person would panic at the sound of the door opening.

“You finally got them,” says a voice. Kyojuro smiles, petting your back as you sloppily suck his cock.

“He’s still tight and ready if you wanna take a go at him. Didn’t even need to break this one in; took my cum like a good boy,” he praises as he fucks your throat. The new voice grows closer and suddenly, a new hand rubs your ass, spreads your cheeks apart, and whistles at the mess.

“You’ve been havin’ fun. Glad to see you had me in mind when you picked this one,” they remark as larger, stronger hands grope and pull on your love handles.

Kyojuro lifts you up and once again places you in his lap. His cock slides in almost perfectly as he nuzzles your neck.

“Would you like a go, Tengen?”

‘Tengen?’ You think. Your brow furrows as you try to piece together why that name seems familiar. Kyujuro presses on your clit and kisses your neck. “No, no, puppy, good boys don’t think; good boys stay wet and ready for cock. Now, be a good boy and open your mouth.”

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obutsuwrites · 3 years ago

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E͜͡n͜͡d͜͡h͜͡a͜͡w͜͡k͜͡s͜͡ x͜͡ r͜͡e͜͡a͜͡d͜͡e͜͡r͜͡ b͜͡r͜͡a͜͡i͜͡n͜͡r͜͡o͜͡t͜͡

CW: period blood mention, reader is FtM, brief mention of pup play

Totally don’t think about Enji making you cockwarm him while you have cramps. Between the heat of his cock and his hand over your uterus it’s like having a heating pad

Hawks brings your favorite food and drinks, kissing your blissed out face as he walks into your shared bedroom

Little praises of “Good Boy” and “Taking my cock so good!”

Maybe a little puppy!boy play with how fuzzy your mind is. Hawks rubbing his cock against your lips saying “come on pup, open for me you need your milk”

Cue you being stuffed at both ends cause you’re just so cute

Enji digging his fingers into your stomach and groaning as he hears the slapping of his thighs against your ass

When they’re done you all take a bath but Hawks is still teasing you and taking turns with Enji to have you cock warm them both

They can’t resist how your brown skin shines, you look like a priceless artifact that they love to fill with cum

Afterwards they help wrap your hair, rubbing baby oil and Shea butter into your skin, massaging your joints and back

Just (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) they love you so much and my heart hurts

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obutsuwrites · 3 years ago

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There's a Fire in My Heart (Yandere!Rengoku x Reader)

Hello! I wanted to start this post off by saying that I am aware that shorter reader-inserts often garner more attention, but I don't mind that my longer reader-inserts don't garner as much. I hope you enjoyed this piece as much as I enjoyed writing him! And a shorter version may come out soon.

Word count: 4,010

Warnings: YANDERE CONTENT. MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM/SELF-MUTILATION.

Everyone knew about Kyojurou Rengoku. He was the kind, sincere, hard working Hashira who worked his way into the hearts of many. He was handsome and elegant despite being so hardy, with the callouses that adorned his hands like a second skin, and the scars that littered his body. He was able to sway the hearts of many, including your own. You'd been a secret admirer for a while now, writing him cute little notes and leaving them at his post every sunrise that always seemed to make the man smile brighter than the charming smile he always held on his lips.

You knew this because you overheard him talking about the notes with his fellow Hashira Mitsuri Kanroji. "I'd love to meet my secret admirer one day." He told her. One day.

He was always busy, so it became hard to capture his attention... or, rather, it was.

It felt like a stroke of luck so strong that you were going to have bad luck for the rest of your life when you twisted your ankle—because Kyojurou wasn’t looking, and you tripped. Purposefully, yes. You immediately regretted it. Your body came clashing to the forest floor, and the wood inside your basket spilled out onto the ground below you. "Ah!" You whined aloud as an instinctive reflex.

"I'm so sorry!" Kyojurou shot to your side. "Here, I'll grab your things, and then I'll take you to the Butterfly Estate. I'm so sorry!"

You were unable to talk because of how dazed you were, from hitting the forest floor, to the fact that he was now so close to you. You stared at him through bleary eyes as he picked up the long logs of wood and put them back into the basket that was once on your back. He slotted his arms into the straps and helped to hoist your body against his, wrapping his right arm around your waist while his left arm held onto your right. "Stay close, okay? Let me know if I'm doing too much for you."

Shinobu revealed the unfortunate news of being bedridden some few hours later.

”Oh... that’s awful,” he put his right hand over his lips and furrowed his thick brows with worry. His fiery golden eyes looked down at you and caused you to look away before your blush became obvious. “I’m so sorry... [Y/N], was it?”

He knew your name...

“I’ll make up for it somehow, I promise.” He told you. “For now, I must go, I have other matters I must attend to. But I will return, every day at the same time, until you’re better. Okay?”

"Okay."

DAY 1

"I took your wood to your home." He started off the conversation now that he was in the room. "You live alone, [Y/N]?" Alone... if that was a way to put it. "Recently, yes," you admitted aloud, "my family moved away after I passed the The Final Selection. They couldn't agree with my decision to become a demon slayer. I miss them." You smiled wistfully as you recalled the day they cast themselves out of their own home.

Though Kyojurou looked saddened by that answer, he didn't comment on it much further. "I brought your breakfast. Kocho-san was too busy to bring it herself." He set the tray down on your lap. You cringed at the hot feeling, visibly enough to draw his attention—but that might've simply been because you yelped short after. You fought the feeling to reach down and grab at your propped up, sprained ankle, as pain ricocheted through your leg.

"Oh!" He quickly lifted up the tray off of your legs. To your surprise, he didn't spill the contents of the food anywhere around you or on the floor. "I'm sorry, was it too hot?" He asked, causing you to look up at his face. He was blushing out of embarrassment! He looked so cute!

His eyes bulged wide with worry, and the same, saddened frown appeared on his face from moments before. "Just a bit... I wasn't expecting it." You chuckled wryly. "Sorry, you can put it back down." You reassured him and gently pat your lap. "No, it's fine, I'll hold it. I don't want to put any unnecessary strain on your ankle." Kyojurou stated. "It'll be fine! I won't leave until I know you've eaten breakfast."

A blush spread across your own features. He was a selfless man and it showed in every action he performed. How could people not fall in love with him? "Oh, okay," your breath was taken away, clearly. He even went through the act of holding the tray out for you so that you could eat your food. You looked down at what you had to eat—miso soup and onigiri. It smelled delicious. "The cooks here are fantastic." Kyojurou remarked. "I'm sure you've had to spend a lot of time in here, haven't you?" You asked him.

"Mm? Oh, yes." Kyojurou nodded his head. "If I don't come back from a mission with some type of injury, then something is wrong." He chuckled.

"How are they?"

"What is it?"

"I'm just asking, how are the missions? I haven't been able to go on one yet," you admitted, "I've been dealing with a lot of training. Ooyakata-sama says that I'm not ready to go out on my own yet."

Kyojurou looked more than surprised by that answer. "When you live out so far on your own?" He furrowed his brows. "Are you at least training yourself when you cannot attend daily training sessions?" You nodded your head. Of course you tried, but sometimes, training could be too far away. You wouldn't tell him that—you feared that he would pull something out of his sleeve and try to— "eat please, [Y/N]."

"S-sorry," you squeaked. You didn't waste any time digging into your meal. First with the onigiri that seemed to fill you up almost immediately upon biting into the second one. "I don't think I can finish these," you looked up at Kyojurou. His eyes were already on you, as if he was watching you eat. You didn't think anything of it. "Would you like one?"

"I shouldn't... but..." he trailed off as he thought about it, before nodding his head. "I'd appreciate it. I haven't ate, so watching you eat has made me hungry."

"Never starve yourself!" You gently scold him. You reached down and took the rice ball into your hand to give to him, smiling gently at him... until your smile dropped when you realized that you couldn't give it to him. "I-I'm so sorry!" You sputtered. "It's fine. Just feed me," he spoke casually, much to your surprise. You swallowed thickly. Your lips parted to say something, anything about what that man just said, but nothing came out. Your hand instinctively drifted toward his lips, while his head met you halfway. The bite into the food made you jump, your eyes wide as if you were a deer in headlights. You tried not to pay too much mind while you fed him, but it would eventually become apparent that you were embarrassed to do something like this for him. He didn't seem to mind one bit... maybe even he was enjoying it? You had to stop this somehow!

"Do you think the soup has cooled off enough by now to set the tray on my lap?" You asked. The onigiri were delicious, and you weren't joking about it possibly taking up all the space in your stomach. But food was food, and you didn't want to get rid of it all.

Kyojurou hummed and pressed the tray onto his lap. He hovered his right hand over it. "It does seem to be that way." There was the slightest hint of undetectable disappointment in his voice. Had you been better at picking up facades, you would've been able to catch up on it. "Here you go, [Y/N]." He sat the tray down in your lap, engulfing it in warmth. He took the rice ball from you and continued to chew on it while you dug into the soup.

The meal was finished, even though you didn't want it to be. It was filled with eerie silence, because you didn't have anything to say, and Kyojurou was... well, eating. "It was a fantastic meal!" Kyojurou beamed, "I'll be sure to thank them on my way out. Now—" he stood straight, “I have to go. It was nice eating with you, [Y/N]—“

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of a shoji opening. You were surprised to see two butterfly attendants making their way into the room with a room service cart. “What is this?” You asked, “I thought Rengoku-san had the breakfast covered for me?”

”I believe there’s been some sort of mixup. We just finished making breakfast ten minutes ago—but this tray does look like ours.” They picked up the tray and observed it. “Maybe we—“

”There’s no need to conduct an investigation.” Kyojurou spoke up. “I lied about the breakfast. To tell you the truth, I am the one who made that breakfast, and I hoped that we could eat it together.” He smiled apologetically and bowed, “I’m sorry for the confusion I’ve caused, but I truly must take my leave. I’ll see you tomorrow, [Y/N].”

H-he wanted to eat with me?!

Your heart couldn’t stop pounding a furious beat against your chest. You just couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth! Eat with you?! You barely knew each other! “Bye,” you weakly called to him while he left the room. If this was going to happen every day? Why, it didn’t feel too bad after the initial impact...

DAY 2

Hours poured into the morning. It felt unusually past the time Kyojurou said he was going to show up... not that you had a way of knowing. Breakfast had already been served, and you were left with the displeasure of eating it on your own, in the silence of your room. You thought you would've been used to the quiet, after all, you lived alone now—but he seemed to dull that pain. Now you missed him.

“[L/N]-san. Are you busy?” Shinobu’s voice was a break in the thick silence, and very much welcomed. The presence of another person was soothing.

You glanced up from your lap and nodded. “Not at all. Please, come in.”

Shinobu slid the shoji shut behind her and stepped over to the bed. She sat down in the bedside chair and elegantly folded her limbs atop one another while she addressed you. There was a warm, inviting smile on her face, much like the one Kyojurou held. “How are you feeling?”

”I’m feeling alright.” You responded. “My foot seems to be doing better than before! I think I’ll be able to get back on my feet by the end of the week.” At least you hoped so. As much as it was nice to be able to have the Flame Hashira see you in personalized visits, you had a life that you needed to live outside of these four walls.

“You’re right about that,” Shinobu started, “but that doesn’t mean I want you to immediately start hopping on your feet and walking around one-legged. In order to make a full recovery, I want you to stay for another two days. Is that fine with you?”

You winced. Two more days of staying in this bed? What if Rengoku-san didn’t show up again? Was it worth it? “That’s fine,” you weakly respond. No it isn’t. But did you have a choice? Not exactly.

”Thank you.” Shinobu stood. “With the more important information out of the way, I’ll allow visitation now—after what happened yesterday involving the mishap with Rengoku-san, I shortened your visitation hours. I didn’t like having to dispose of a good meal just because someone wanted to be friendly.” There was scorn in her voice. You nodded your head slowly in scolded understanding. “I’m sorry about that.”

”You don’t have to apologize,” Shinobu said. She walked over to the shoji. “Please, be well.”

As soon as she left, Kyojurou emerged from the shoji. He looked radiant, as usual, like the sun on a beautiful day with clear skies. His smile acted as the ray of sunshine that would blind your eyes, but at least you welcomed this form of sunshine. A smile bled onto your own lips as he fully made his way into the room and shut the shoji behind him. Alone, the two of you.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.” He let out a sigh while he walked over to the bedside chair. “Kocho-san is strict, but with good intentions.” He said aloud, as if to convince the two of you of that fact. "I know that. I'm still appreciative of what you did for me, even if we might've gotten into trouble."

You reached over and gently grabbed his forearm—noticing that he winced from that feeling. “Oh, did you just come back from a mission?” You asked. There must’ve been a cut under his uniform’s sleeves. Come to think of it, you could see a faint spot of blood where your hand pressed against it. "Does it need to be patched up?" You frowned with worry.

”Oh; no, that’s not it. I happened to get into a bit of an accident earlier this morning while I was cutting wood,” he explained, “I’ve already patched it up. No need to worry—it just hurt a bit, that’s all.” He smiled reassuringly, one that nearly melted you. You smiled back at him just as much. “I see.” You responded, “well, I have exciting news.”

He perked up. “What is it?”

”I’m going to be discharged in two days.” You told him. “You won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

”Two days?” Kyojurou’s face contorted. He looked... worried. He was quick to voice his thoughts about the decision. “Are you sure that’s going to be all you need? I thought sprained ankles needed more time to heal,”

It was so cute. How could he be so worried about someone he had just met? You found yourself giggling at him. “Relax. I feel much better now than how I felt yesterday. If I could, I’d even try getting up and walking around to see how it felt.” Being able to walk around would’ve been a relief. As enjoyable as it sounded before, being bedridden felt much like a nightmare. “I definitely don’t recommend it,” he said, clearly half-joking. “Please take care of yourself. Well—I have to go.” He rushed to get out of his seat. He stood tall, reaching over to gently pat your leg before he half-turned to face the shoji to leave.

”So soon?” You frowned. You were going to be lonely for the rest of the day...

”Visitation hours were cut short; remember, silly?” Kyojurou chuckled. “I’ll try to see you and stay for longer tomorrow.” He stepped out of the room as quickly as he came in, leaving you in the silence.

DAY 3

No sign of Kyojurou—just another quiet day. He said he would come... was there something wrong? You wanted to ask someone so badly, but you didn't even know how to voice it. For now, you would just stay quiet about it. Maybe he had to go on an actual mission. Aww... that would've meant that you couldn't see each other when you were discharged...

DAY 4

Discharge day. You couldn’t wait for this day as much as you dreaded it. It would be fantastic to finally get out of this room, out into the world, where you could go home and be in the comfort of your own bed. You awoke early to catch Shinobu just in time, who stepped into the room with the same, happy go lucky smile on her face. “I know you must be excited about today, [L/N]-san.”

”I am,” you beamed while you began to sit up. You slowly, steadily raised yourself off the bed and met her halfway. The sensation of walking... felt strange, after not doing it for so long. Your legs felt partially asleep, and there was a dull pain in your ankle that was sure to become annoying after a while. “How are you feeling?” She asked. “If I need to change your compression bandages for you, then I can.” She held out the gauze for grabs. ”I’ll be fine. Thank you for your magnificent service, Kocho-san.” You bowed to her and took the gauze out of her hand.

"[Y/N]-san!"

Kyojurou's voice grabbed your attention and made you nearly squeal with excitement. You hurried as best as you could to reach the shoji and thrust it open to eagerly meet the sight of him. He smelled faintly of burning wood... "did you just get done with doing something?" You asked. "Maybe something important?"

"Not important, no," the beaming, fiery-haired man shook his head and continued to smile. "I wanted to walk you home." A walk home? That sounded so sweet of him. "Oh," a blush spread thinly across your cheeks, "that's very nice of you. Thank you, Rengoku-san." The two of you stepped out of the Butterfly Estate. The walk was a quiet one... Kyojurou seemed so fixated on simply walking, and your mind was occupied by the fact that you were even having the chance to walk home with him made it so exciting.

It came into view. It took longer to get there than what you normally remembered it taking, but you shrugged it off, merely thinking of it as nothing more but a slow pace. He was just so considerate, after all.

You stepped in behind him after he opened the shoji for you. Home sweet home... it smelled like it, felt like it. Everything looked unchanged—but there was something off about it all. You could tell. "Wait... this isn't my home," you narrowed your eyes. Bewilderment seeped into your brain while you tried to make sense of it. "Why are all of my clothes and belongings here? Where are we truly at, Rengoku-san?"

Tricked. You were almost tricked, but you recognized your home anywhere you were at. These walls weren't the same. You didn't have an irori...

"I thought long and hard about it, but... I can't keep hiding the truth from you, [Y/N]-san." Kyojurou reached over to grab one of your hands, pulling the limp appendage into his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. What is he talking about? "For some time now, I have admired you. I liked watching you take your daily walks. I liked seeing that you were healthy, I liked seeing you take care of yourself."

What?

"I liked the notes that you left on my engawa—seeing you play dumb as if you weren't the one who put those notes there. The cute little smudge-marks your fingers would make when you were finished with the ink," he gently squeezed your hand.

How did he know?

"When you told me that you lived alone, it only confirmed my suspicions. You don't have anyone else to go to. I would hate such a life for someone who is so deserving of any love that comes their way."

Why was he talking about it?

"I did what I thought was the best thing to do..." he trailed off to take your other hand in his, squeezing both of them as he made his way in front of you. "You don't have to love me, all you have to do is trust me."

"Why?" Your lips were trembling. You felt sick. Yes, everything or what you could see of everything from your home was inside this single room, but it wasn't what mattered. You grew up in that home, and he... and he... "You took everything away from me. Y-you burned my home."

"No... no, don't think about it that way." Kyojurou looked all over your expression for some sign of comfort. His hands dropped yours to cup your cheeks, staring into your own with a worried expression. "That's not how you should think about it, [Y/N]-san. Don't you understand? This will be the opportunity to start your life anew with me."

It was so deranged, so sick. You barely had the physical power to shrug him off, but you managed to pull through. You needed to go back, you needed to see what he did to the only place that reminded you of your family that you had left.

"No... please, [Y/N]-san, you don't want to do this," Kyojurou tried to reason as he trailed behind you, off the engawa and into the barren yard, "you're going to see things that you don't want to see. You don't have to subject yourself to that torture." His hand touched your forearm and gently grasped it. You lashed out at him and ripped your arm out of his grip. "Leave me! Don't you see that you've ruined my life!?"

Kyojurou stood still. "Y-you don't get it," he stammered, "[Y/N]-san, I need you too. You have the energy I want in my life!" He raised his strained voice as he ripped both sleeves of his uniform up on his body to reveal scars. Plenty of them. It was alarming, but in your mind, it couldn't have hurt as much as seeing your childhood home burn down. "You're speaking like a madman," you scolded him. "I don't even know why I'm entertaining someone so delusional."

"...I'll do it."

The blade came as a shock. Your eyes widened, how did he get his hands on one so quickly? You thought you couldn't even see his arms moving... "I deserve it for being a bad significant other, don't I?" He sounded so creepy. His voice sounded off; desperate, but loving. "I've hurt you, so I must hurt myself, right?"

"..." you grimaced. How did you respond to an emotionally taxing situation like this? "You wouldn't...Rengoku-san, I don't even know you!"

"But you do!" He blurted back at you. "I'll do anything for you, [Y/N]. I just ask that you come back! Walk back to me... you don't have to see what happened to your home, you can just be with me," he pleaded.

But you didn't listen. No, you wouldn't. You turned and ran as fast, and as hard as your feet could take you into the forest, into the direction of your home. The scent of something burning helped with your path-finding, but it didn't matter. Your ankle started hurting. Hurting, hurting, and hurting. You'd forgotten that it was even strained until just now, where the pain became so severe that you ended up toppling over your injury.

"AH!"

You fell to the forest floor and squeezed your eyes shut out of pain. "Hoo... oh fuck," you hissed, clenching your teeth and bowing your head. What a painful feeling to come across, it was almost excruciating. But you needed to keep going... he was coming after you. Even if he threatened to do whatever he did back there, the pain of going through it wasn't going to stop him.

"[Y/N]-san... please."

He was already on you... maybe he was even behind you the entire time and you were under the foolish assumption that you'd escaped his line of sight. No, not at all.

"Get-get away from me!" You yelled at him. "Please!"

You stifled a gasp and a sob as his bloodied hands caressed your face. His hands trembled while his thumbs pressed directly into your cheeks while his thumb smeared the blood from his hands onto your poor cheeks. His blood. You knew what he did to himself. "Finally," he whispered, "I've finally caught you...and you can't leave me anymore. Please, [Y/N]-san, for our sake... think of this as our new life together. How I've waited so long for this opportunity, and now that I have it..!"

#god this is fire #just. bro. how creepy and unsettling he is #coupled with his devotion?#fuck sign me up this was a straight up treat to read

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obutsuwrites · 3 years ago

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Welcome to the laundry basket!

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If you’re looking for Overwatch, Marvel, or Monsters, you’re in the wrong place! Click here for The Other Pile; a less specific, more personal, and with a masterlist for those older works you might be looking for!

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obutsuwrites · 3 years ago

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Fighting for your right to say people should off themselves because it's your space is cringe as fuck, and yk what, it's not the good take you think it is. Freedom of speech is not freedom from consequence, and if you're going to spout k-y-s with your whole chest, accept the consequences or shut your fucking mouth and don't say it. It's fucked up to say that *anyway*.

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obutsuwrites · 3 years ago

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CW: mild breeding kink, slight food kink at the end, FtM reader with a vagina, I am a himbo so my editing is on par at best

“Even tyrants have sweet tooths,” you said with a soft smile to Natsuo. He sat at the table behind you with the softest glare you’d ever seen, and asked -- very seriously -- if you were forced to come to their house to cook for his father, Enji. You were focused on piping the ladyfingers as close of an even layer as you could before baking them. The smooth trumpets and pianos of jazz filled the air along with the sweet aroma of your baking.

Putting them into the oven, you wiped your hands with a rag before tucking it into the side of your apron pocket. “Please feel free to try some of the samples! I promise I’ll have enough for the event tonight," you said with a wink. His cheeks turned a soft pink as he got up to try some of the lemon macaroons. Your ears perked up when you heard the front door open. Giant footsteps came towards the kitchen, and there stood the flame hero himself. Dressed in a black sweater and long coat, he gave you a small smile, greeting his son as well. Natsuo only glared before taking one more macaroon and patting your head gently before walking out.

The older man frowned softly before walking into the kitchen. You knew it was none of your business, so you kept working, thankful for the music to fill the quiet space to prevent it from getting too awkward. He tasted a few of the macaroons and other petit fours you made for tonight. Cheesecake squares, lemon tarts, chocolate tarts, and the like.

“What do you still need to make?” He asked as he looked around his kitchen. Noticing the small pile of dishes, he rolled up his sleeves and began to assist in cleaning as you started to whip the mascarpone.

“Well, I was going to make you a tiramisu. I still have time that you’ve got me here, so I decided to make you one as a thank you!” You said with a warm smile. His cheeks turned a dusty pink at the sight of you. You were smiling and humming softly to yourself as you worked. Enji could only grunt a response as he busied himself with cleaning. He couldn’t help but stare, however.

He admired how the pudge of your thighs looked through your shorts, your love handles being hugged by your top. Your apron, while a standard culinary one, looked intensely sexy in contrast to your outfit underneath. He had insisted you dress comfortably while you work since he couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it is cooking in a kitchen. A timer went off, and you went to take your ladyfingers out of the oven. Enji held his breath when he saw you bend over. The slight darker area of your inner thigh became visible, your shorts pressing against your pussy lips in a way where he knew you were aroused. But he kept his composure.

Finishing up the dishes, he asked, “Your partner must be spoiled with everything you cook.” He watched you out of the corner of his eye for your reaction.

Without missing a beat, you chuckled, saying “No, no partner here, just a free little raven.” Looking up at him, he could have sworn he saw a glimmer of mischief there. Your skin, reminiscing of a warm hazel fay in the golden glow of dawn, drew him in like a moth to a flame. He reached over to wipe off some flour from your cheek. Your skin felt warm under his touch; he smiled down at you as you looked up at him. You looked adorable in his kitchen, so small and soft. He could throw you around like it was nothing, but he couldn’t, not yet. “I guess I wouldn’t mind having a little house husband like you around my house,” he said with a smirk.

You chuckled, and without looking up, you said, “I’m sure I’d be round with your kids constantly, Mr. Todoroki.” Enji could only stare at your response, mentally fighting a boner cropping up at the idea of having you bred.

“I do want to thank you again for hiring me, Mr. Todoroki,” you said with that same soft smile. He could only return it, moving his hand back.

“You’re my favorite little baker; of course, I’d hire your services,” he responded.

“If there’s… anything I can do for you, Mr.Todoroki, please tell me.” You said as you placed a hand over his on the counter. You shifted closer and he noticed a refined subtle sweetness he’d never noticed before. You bat your lashes up at him, full lips pouting slightly up at the large hero. He couldn’t help his eyes from devouring your form. Your full cleavage peeked out deliciously from your apron and he let out a shaky breath. The music had taken a noticeably more seductive tone as he took your form in, fueling the growing tension between you two. “Be careful what you wish for, my dear,” he responded.

You could only smile as you looked down to the growing bulge in front of you back up to his face. “Well, you do own me for the next few hours, sir. You can do whatever you wish to me,” You said as you turned back to the tiramisu. He stood there for a moment, processing what you had said as you begin to layer the coffee-soaked ladyfingers with filling. He decided to test his luck; standing closer to you, he leaned down to your ear level. One hand placed on your back begins to slowly drift down as he asks questions about the cake and other treats. You preened as you explained what you’re doing, stuttering softly as you feel his hand dip underneath your shorts. He chuckled as your words started to slur a bit at the feeling of his fingers. “I’m barely grazing this cute little hole, and you’re already so wet,” he said as he slowly fingered your entrance. You braced yourself against the counter, pushing back slightly as he pulled down your shorts.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw your pussy. Wet, puffy, and delectable. Falling to his knees, he gripped your hips, as he pushed yourself against his face. He inhaled deeply, groaning as his senses were evaded by the smell of your arousal. His tongue lapped at your entrance, thumbs pulling apart your lips as he dove his tongue deeper into your entrance. You tried to muffle your moans, the feeling of his breathe brushing against your most sensitive area drove you insane. . He notices your knees shaking and maneuvers you around himself. Turning you around so your back is to the counter, he makes you hold up your apron. Moving one thick thigh onto his shoulder, he dove back in, making you keep eye contact with him as he began to finger your entrance. Your juices ran down his arm as he begins to stretch you out.

“Good boy, taking my fingers so well," he said. Turning his head, he bite down gently on your inner thigh, running his tongue over your skin. He couldn’t help but shiver, tasting your sweat. “Just as sweet…” He mumbles as he lifted your other leg over his shoulder. He pushed you back onto the counter, shoving aside empty bowls and dirty utensils.

“Seeing you laid out like this”, he growled. Stripping off your apron and shirt, he grabbed your breast, thumbing your large nipples; he licks his lips as he watches them harden. “Your body is so responsive. I wanted to try and take my time, but… you’re so delicious,” he groaned. You heave as you try to steady yourself; looking up at your boss, you reach out for him, making grabby hands. He chuckles as he leaned down, letting you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders as you kiss him deeply. Tasting faintly of the lemon macaroons you made as well as coffee. He smells deep, musky, and intoxicating; your eyes roll back as you moan into his kiss. The music was loud enough you were certain Natsuo couldn’t hear you two, but with how Enji was prepping you, that certainty waned. Breaking the kiss momentarily, he pulls back; unbuttoning his pants; he pulls out his cock. In seeing it you have a moment of panic at if it can fit or not. Thick and veiny, it stood tall at 10 in length; you felt yourself drool a the sight.

Enji chuckled at your response; gathering enough of your essence, he smeared it on his cock as you absentmindedly reached down and rubbed your clit to the sight. You both stood there for a moment, watching each other masturbate between heated kisses. “Please, Enji… fuck me,” you begged.

He groaned as you spread open your lips for him. He pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, gripping the back of your head so you can watch as his cock stretches you open. Your stomach rolled in on itself as Enji grips your stomach and love handles. Balls deep he ruts against you slightly, reveling in your soft mewls and whimpers. You look up at him, warm tinted eyes meeting his blue topaz, and he loses his last hold on control. Thrusting as fast as he can, his deep grunts mixed beautifully with the soft bass and saxophones. The song was loud and chaotic and Enji held you close as his thrusts held the same energy. His balls slapped against your ass as his hands pin your hips to the counter. His grunts and growls filled your ears as he picks you up, using both hands to hold you close, cupped under your ass, and gripping your flesh.

“You’re such a good boy, taking my cock so well nngh! Fuck, if you tighten up any more I’ll burst," he grunts as he turned around, leaning against the counter and thrusts up into you. Bouncing you on his cock he reached down and begins to play with your clit. Licking and sucking on your neck as you cum around his cock. He doesn’t slow down. Gripping your ass with both hands he used you as a fleshlight, fucking into your oversensitive cunt with glee as you beg for his cum. “What does my baby boy want?” He asked as he tilts your face to his.

“C-cum! want daddy’s cum!” You moaned out with a whine. He smiled, holding you down on him as he’s balls deep inside of you. He groaned lowly as his balls throb, pumping you with cum.

“Such a good boy, taking all that cum for me," he said as he rubbed your back, knowledgeable enough to not mess up your hair.

“Thankfully the party isn’t until later. I want to have some more fun with my personal baker. What do you think about that, baby boy?” He whispered into your ear. You only nod, a blissed out look on your face as your thighs shiver from being held apart for so long.

You could get used to this, being in his strong arms, thick cock snug in your cum filled entrance as the sounds of smooth jazz and the wafts of sweets circle around you. Now all you hope is your cum doesn’t drip into anything important. However, unbeknownst to you, the bowl of mascarpone filling had fallen in your tryst, and ass very conveniently underneath you both. Enji glanced down between you, And a smirk graced his features at the sight"

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obutsuwrites · 3 years ago

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devotion (douma x f!reader)

summary: His pet watched as the metal was heated. Douma held the poker like it was precious; watching in delight. Black steel turning dangerously red was quite the show. Certainly, his excitement was sweetened by… her. Even now, Douma was sure she regarded him with disinterest. She would learn this was to her benefit.

"Are you excited, little one?" Douma mused.

She simply nodded, words unable to form. Her savior finally saw her bare. Heat bloomed across her face. She wanted his hands to roam her body and learn every curve. Waiting for his touch left an ache in her chest. Her breathing came out in spurts. The room felt too hot -- too humid.

warnings: blood and injury, mild gore, vaginal fingering, cults, public humiliation, branding, yandere elements, dismemberment, loss of fingers, smut, etc. etc.

word count: 3.3k

shoutout to @calslaundry for the beta read

a/n: hello friends, apologies for the lack of content! i haven't written in a while + this my first kny fic 😭

twitter | masterlist

She came to him in a miserable state -- her delicate body broken. Blood, like ribbons, flowed from her stomach. The wound was deep and hideous. Yet, the woman before him wore a serene expression, as if unaware of her current state. The sight brought amusement to Douma. His thin lips pulled into the phantom of a grin. Rainbow eyes dilated and focused on her pitiful form.

Behind her bounded a man; his skin filthy and caked in dried crimson. He looked disheveled, as if the listless woman struggled. Sweat kept his hair slick across his forehead. In his hand, his shaky little human hand, was a butcher knife.

"Stay out of this! She's…" The man trails off, waiting for the words to materialize, "My wife." The word sounds slimy, uncomfortable, coming from him. To punctuate his love, a calloused hand gripped the woman.

No sound came from her. Perhaps, she was his wife. Douma continued to observe the dramatic affair; fingers laced together. His expression was nothing less than curious. A carnal morbidity he wanted to see through.

Suddenly, the woman collapsed. Her skin lacked the rosy pigment so beloved by mortals. The man stumbled and instinctively cradled her wound. Disgust formed onto his features -- the man seemingly unaware of her state.

Douma felt blood drumming in his ears. This tiny, injured woman came to him near death, but didn't utter a single grievance. She had remained stoic despite her hideous wound. "Leave her."

Without a second thought, the man abandoned his would-be wife. His rapid footfalls echoed down the hall as Douma examined his pet. He noted how elegant her kimono was -- its silk now reddened and ruined. Douma believed the blood complimented her, and brought out her softness. Softness Douma wanted to destroy.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly. The room was unlike her little hovel. Innate gold and rubies were encrusted within every aspect; nothing less of excess. A room fit for a god. Perhaps this was her afterlife. Delicate fingers prodded her stomach -- the flesh swollen and blemished. Her fingertips brushed against the barb of wire. Lifting the simple Yukata, the woman noticed how intricate the stitching was. Black wire woven into itself to mimic the intricate shape of a flower.

"You're awake, my dear friend!" The voice was cheerful and deep. The sound not unlike the rumble in a summer storm.

Silence marked their conversation.

Floorboards creaked; a sign her mysterious caretaker was advancing. "Is my dear friend deaf?" This time, the man's voice held annoyance. A blatant disregard for his kind words left a rotten taste in the demon's mouth.

"I apologize for the trouble I caused you," she confessed, head level with the floor. The newly stitched woman was bowing before him. Had she hoped to mimic his congregation?

Unlike his devotees, her body didn't shake. No, her insignificant form stayed rigid. The slender curve of her back was straight, eyes still regarding the floor. Truthfully, Douma found himself savoring the view of this mortal. She seemed so obedient -- so unafraid of him.

The damned sentence stumbled last Douma's lips, "Stay with us; with me." Suddenly, the woman sensed a large hand atop her head, "You need to heal, my friend."

Tears began to foam at her eyes -- this man's kindness was unfamiliar. This rainbow eyed stranger not only stitched up her broken body, but offered sanctuary.

"Thank you." Douma noted the monotonousness of her voice. Here this pitiful woman was, her briny tears reeking, and yet she remained stoic. The scent was pleasant; as if crushed roses and salt had been mixed. Douma had noticed her blood carried a similar scent.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

The days that followed were… familiar. Her days fell into structure. First, worship in the morning. Then, chores and her first meal followed by more chores. Finally, as dusk settled, her makeshift family gathered within the main hall for a special dinner. However, the dinner wasn't any fundamentally different. The menu still consisted of rich meats and exotic fruits, but their meal was special because of him.

At the end of their long, gold flecked table sat the rainbow eyed Douma. His face carried his typical jubilant expression. A soft smile graced his face -- leaving his eyes bright and lively. He watched his flock with interest, his eyes all too often falling upon his wounded pet. 'Pet' seemed to fit this woman far more than any word; she was compliant. The woman finished every task created for her. Her devotion to him -- only him -- brought a budding flush to his cheeks.

It was true the women of his cult would die for him. Their single-minded loyalty was stereotypical, expected. They chose to bleed for him, but once faced with their own mortality, his devotees lost steam. And yet this harpy had bled at his feet -- asked for his forgiveness.

Douma watched as the woman carefully gripped her chopsticks. Her hands were slender, and as soft as blooming flowers. In another world, Douma would have described her as delicate, but all the demon could feel was disdain. There was something so innocent about her fingers. Douma's eyes continued to flick between her face and hands. Such soft things devoid of callouses -- devoid of humanity.

His mind didn't typically race like this. Images of this woman seemed to plague him during dinner. She was a sickness that he couldn't shake. Her body had infiltrated him -- illustrating fantasies of him breaking her fingers and laughing as he ate them. Would she finally scream, finally allow herself emotion? Or would she succumb to him?

Douma's thin lips curled into a grin.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

"I don't want to ruin the elaborate textiles, sir." It was a habit to call him sir as her eyes bore into the floor. The woman acted like she was… unworthy to even glance at the demon. She seemed to make herself scarce when Douma was around. But now, she was forced ⁸to meet his face. Forced to tailor his clothing, despite the woman having no seamstress experience.

Douma didn't mind if his clothes were ruined. He merely wanted to observe his pet create with her hands.

A large hand rested atop her head, "Do not worry, my dear friend! I picked you for this. Do you not trust my judgement?" His question was more of a test than anything. He wanted to see more of her sickened devotion to him.

"I trust you," the woman replied, her hands buried in rich fabric. His clothes made her hands itch. Yet, she hid any discomfort. This was a task bestowed upon her -- it was the least she could do. This man had saved her life.

In the corner of his view, Douma saw it, the phantom of a smile. His emotionless pet still held humanity. However, the happiness stopped at her lips. Nothing seemed to reach her eyes.

"That expression suits you," his breath tickled her ear, "little one." The sensation of him -- his warmth was enough to quicken her pulse. A blush rose to her cheeks.

Before she could thank him, Douma vanished. She wanted to glance into his chromatic eyes. They held a light she hadn't noticed before. Something so spectacular and light.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Darkness naturally crept into Douma's eyes. The demon couldn't pinpoint a moment of emotion. It was as if he was born void of humanity. Perhaps that was his reason for being so disgustingly soft upon this woman.

She was in a tangled mess before him; eyes perpetually to the floor. The more he saw her like this -- the more Douma longed for her gaze. He was the only one worthy of her.

"This little runt broke the vase, my lord." Beside his little pet stood a woman; one of his most devoted. Yet, her very voice annoyed him.

Douma shifted in his throne, "What of it?" His face was contorted into happiness, but there was a callousness to him. A viper waiting in the grass.

The woman's expression hardened.

"Shouldn't she be punished, my lord?" Her question wasn't more than a whisper. This was common for his most loyal of followers; cowardly mortals that were afraid of him.

Douma leaned forward, his rainbow eyes lacking any compassion, "Are you telling me what to do?"

"N-no! I'd never, my lord! Please -- please forgive me, Lord Douma!" Her pleas flowed like a river; excuse upon excuse. Douma used to take pleasure in a maiden's distress. Now, he simply felt bored -- empty.

Certainly punishing his pet and maiming her would bring relief. Mortals were for his enjoyment, after all.

"Stand up," Douma commanded.

His voice sounded of the gods; nectar too sweet for human ears. His wounded pet felt heat rise to her cheeks. Gently, she assumed a knelt position, hands folded in her lap. They looked so delicate, so perfect for him. Saliva pooled in his mouth. His fantasy of her seemed unending.

"Sit," the demon motioned to his feet. "You are to stay until I find a suitable punishment, my dear friend." Without hesitation, his pet assumed her position. Her hands were now clear in Douma's view, tiny things clasped together.

As if satisfied, his devotee blended back into the crowd.

Even his presence was warmth; she could feel his radiance. Lord Douma was the opposite of her husband -- his chromatic eyes held nothing but comfort. He had opened his home to her, and allowed her to join his congregation. He was the sun; bright and nourishing.

His pet felt as if her heart would burst. Being this close to him -- to Lord Douma was almost overwhelming. He practically dwarfed her; his frame tall and muscular. Lord Douma's presence was suffocating above her. Lewd flashes of her savior played on loop. Silver hair slicked back, his bare chest on display, muscles flexing.

Quickly, she looked away from the demon with a silent curse on her lips.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Several days pass. Douma's pet had yet to leave his side. Her punishment was decided the second day she sat at his feet, but Douma found her presence… human. Slowly, she brought forth an emotion; serenity. Her very breathing seemed to lull him. In another life, she would have made a man very happy.

The demon's eyes shifted to his maiden. Her face was stoic as ever. She looked… Miserable? The thought made Douma's blood burn; sitting between his feet was a privilege. No other woman of the cult had been so close to him before.

Douma's thick brows knitted together in annoyance, "We should prepare for your punishment, shouldn't we?" Plastered on his face was the smile she yearned for.

"Yes, my lord."

Douma clapped his hands. Suddenly, his harem of women began to spill into the room. They looked to him like god; eyes wide and wanting. He cherished his cult for their devotion, something that would benefit him today.

He tilted his head and pointed, "Strip her." Douma's instruction was materialized before him. Her body laid in the brood of his women. Bruises marked her body like bee stings; his most devoted had such vicious means. Her exquisite yukata was ruined. Shreds hung to her trembling form.

She made him sick.

"Hold her down, my dear friends~!" Douma's feigned happiness crinkled at his eyes. To any nonbeliever, he looked human, yet his followers knew better. They knew behind the facade was a monster; a man bent on misery. "Bring me the brand."

His pet watched as the metal was heated. Douma held the poker like it was precious; watching in delight. Black steel turning dangerously red was quite the show. Certainly, his excitement was sweetened by… her. Even now, Douma was sure she regarded him with disinterest. She would learn this was to her benefit.

"Are you excited, little one?" Douma mused.

The demon sauntered over to his pet, the brand now smoking. "Stay still," he murmured. It was her shred of justice before Douma plunged the brand between her breasts. First there was silence. Then came a cry unlike any before. Loud. Anguished. Heart wrenching. It was the sound of his pet bearing her soul. Something so private, meant only for him.

He pressed the metal further into her flesh. Burnt skin reached his nostrils; her scent wasn't unlike roasted boar. Rich, gamey. His mind painted her nude and covered in sake. Underneath his regalia, Douma felt blood rush to his cock. Douma looked at her, waiting for another cry. Yet, she regained composure. Her skin was balmy and she trembled.

Finally, her eyes met his. Douma sees the hint of relief -- as if she wanted this. "L-lord Douma," she slurred. His gaze shifted to her lips; anticipating her speech. Nothing left her except a heave. A soft little noise before she passed out, limp and vulnerable. Somehow, Douma felt sorry for her.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

The woman woke with a jolt; air burning her lungs. Gasping, she took inventory of the dimly lit room. The space was more of the caricature of a room. It was a bedroom, but looked almost unlived in. Everything was too perfect. The realization came as she touched her chest. This was Lord Douma's private quarters. A place reserved for his most devoted.

...and here she was, laying in his bed.

Her chest was tender. The skin was charred and bandaged. She wondered if Lord Douma himself had treated her. The fantasy brought a flush to her cheeks. She fingered the wound; gentle to trace its shape. Between her breasts was a delicate lotus; her body marked forever.

"I can hear you, my dearest friend," his voice sounded like rainfall after a drought. "Come. Bring me more sake."

Beside the futon was a gourd. The object was heavy; enough for two hands if not more. Truthfully, his pet struggled to lift it. The liquid inside sloshed around like the sea. It carried a sweet smell. Fruity. Radiant. The scent reminded the woman of Lord Douma.

Soft humming filtered into the room, the source not far. Practically dragging the sake, his pet ventured towards the sound. Towards him.

With the push of a door came humidity and steam. The atmosphere was sticky and too warm. Lord Douma had created a swamp instead of a bath.

His booming tone shook the room, "Come closer, little one." The phrase sent goosebumps up her spine.

She continued to drag the gourd across slick tile. His pet didn't want to make a fool of herself. However, with each step came unequal footing. She wobbled, trying to keep her grace and sake intact. One particularly heavy footfall was miscalculated. She fell onto the porous ground with a sharp bang; the gourd in pieces at her feet.

"Clumsy, aren't we, little one?" His tone is lousy with arousal. The sentence vibrated from his chest.

"I'm sor--"

Douma only uttered a simple phrase, "Join me, my pet."

Her legs moved without authority. Douma had complete agency over her; bewitching his prey. It was the kindness she deserved, after all. She was his most devoted -- his most prized slab of meat. Partially, Douma believed she was plagued with bad luck. First the damned woman is stabbed, then she falls desperately into his lap. She was a fawn -- clumsy and aching for attention.

Muscles were the first thing she noticed, followed shortly by ashen hair. Somehow, his chromatic eyes still shined within the haze. He had to be a deity -- someone special.

Quickly, she averted her eyes. This sight wasn't meant for a mortal like her. Crimson hung to her cheeks like warpaint, the woman more blush than skin. His pet removed her yukata without ceremony. The elaborate fabric crumpled at her feet. Douma felt air pitch in his chest and blood rush to his cock.

"Sit in my lap."

His lover looked at him; her eyes curious and wanting and wide, pupils dilated. She shuffled into the bath, like a babe taking its first steps. Gingerly, she sat beside him. A hiss escaped her lips as the hot water meets her burn. Mortals -- as Douma knew -- were devoted to a fault.

A cold arm encompassed her waist. Douma pulled the mortal closer, her smell mixing with the bath. Saliva dotted at the corners of his mouth. His polite aurora seemed to drop -- the predator now before her. "It's okay, little one," his breath tickled her neck, "you can relax. You're safe."

Safe. He was safe. Her body untensed in his grip. The woman leaned into him, her bare back pressed into his chest. Her rapid heartbeat echoed into Douma; his body rang with her life force. It hurt to hold her like this. His instincts demanded he tear her apart, her blood diluting the water. Yet, he resisted. Instead, he took inventory of her hands. They were tender -- fragile. His broad hands engulfed hers as he rubbed circles into her palms.

Douma -- with grace -- lifted her fore and middle finger into his mouth. His fawn exhaled a gasp. The sudden movement caused her to wobble atop his knee. A hand rubbed her stomach, as if to provide comfort. Slobber leaked down her hand. Lord Douma's saliva. She wanted to bring the spit covered hand to her chest -- to feel a part of him. Douma sucked at her fingers. His tongue rolled over her knuckles and savored her.

"Lord Douma --"

Her words hung in muggy air. Only one sound penetrated through the room; a sob. The woman's blood mixed with unholy drool. In Douma's mouth were two delicate fingers -- her fingers. The sudden pang subsided, yet her heart continued to race. She was stuck; fear had collapsed in her veins. Her weak, mortal body shook. The sensation was uncontrollable.

"Stay still, my pet," Douma mused, his voice obstructed by gore. He refused to relent; his tone still cheery. Her body demanded she move, but her mind screamed for him. Torn between heart and brain, she quaked in his lap. Her hand fell limp into the bath water. Red blossomed beside her.

Douma's hands trailed down her body, as if to memorize her shape. His cockhead ached for stimulation -- for her. Without the air of a lord, Douma shifted his pet, her cunt now exposed to the heat. Carefully, he removed her disembodied fingers from his mouth. "Let me take care of you." His words were little more than a command -- no -- a threat.

Harshly, the demon shoved a finger into her cunt; the very finger he bit off. Disgust and lust bubbled together in her stomach. Naive eyes looked down as Douma pumped into her. A bloodied chin rested on his pet's shoulder. His humming vibrated into her bones. Thunderous. Awful.

Heat bloomed between her thighs. Lewd sounds of her core bounced off the walls. She bit her lip, stubborn and refusing to give into the demon.

Rainbow eyes drifted to her face, "Are you not satisfied, little one?" His tone faltered before a second finger jams into her soaking cunt. The woman's mouth betrayed her. Out came a wanton moan. Loud and squealing. Douma's face contorted into a grin, his breath beating upon her. "What's that? You want me to go faster~?" His pace burst into an almost hellish speed. The fingers hit her walls, scissoring her entrance. Douma acted as if he knew her very body. Roughly, he tweaked her nipple. Another cry pierced the air; his reward for her devotion.

"Come for me," Douma commanded, heavy humming now vibrating her jaw. "Show me your devotion." His voice wasn't more than a whisper, yet she felt the warmth between her thighs explode. The bundle in her stomach dissipated into bliss; eyes closed and breathing even.

Douma rubbed her cheek. This was perhaps his only action of humanity -- of charity. As his most devoted, she was worthy.

#douma x reader #doma x reader #yandere kny #kny x reader #ive finally lost my mf MIND #kny #smut

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