#Touchstarved Smut

[touchstarvedbrainrot]

A day w/ perv! touchstarved characters

MDNI yeah? Just the LIs being dirty, needy perverts over MC; they low-key take advantage of ya- nothing too extreme but pls don't read if that makes u uncomfy. Yeah just smutty headcanons basically

Perv!Kuras who gives you such caring checkups, gliding his hands over your body.. asking you to bend over and stretch for him. Look at you, being so obedient for him, showing him all the tricks your pretty body can do. It’s all part of the checkup, of course. Even when he rubs your tummy and squeezes your thighs so, so gently… just trust him, he’s the professional, he can take care of you. He can make you so good if you’d just be his Though his bedside manner is still a bit lacking, considering the way he ushers you out so quickly… hoping against hope that you didn’t notice the precum staining through the peak in the bulge in his pants as he rushes into the backroom, fingers twitching over his cock as he undoes his clothes, almost whimpering at the pent-up need for you… with each and every throb and twitch, he becomes more desperate for you… 

Perv!Ais who’s so sweet to invite you over for tea all the time. He’s a decently good host after all, always having plushy pillows and rugs laid out for you to lounge around on while you sip your tea and chat with him. Of course, you don’t know that that exact spot where you’re sitting is where he was spilling cum into his hand for the fifth damn time just thinking of your voice… or of how cute you would be squirming and whining under him, all fucked-out. You don’t know that he barely had time to wipe up the mess before you arrived, that those are your special pillows… the ones only you use to sit, and the ones he humps while he breathes in your still-lingering scent after you leave. You don’t know that while you’re chatting, he’s only thinking of pinning you down and rutting into you until your poor little hole is all sore and sensitive from him… his sweet little sparrow.

Perv!Mhin who follows you as you walk home. Just to make sure you’re not a threat, of course. Just to do recon. Certainly not so that they can watch the sway of your hips and ass as you walk. They just love letting the little critters in the dark alleys spook you, so that they can appear at just the right time, your little guardian angel always there to make you feel good safe. And to scold you, because the way you get all pouty and huffy over it makes them wonder how you’d react to their praise. Or if eventually you’d give up that bratty attitude and take the degradation like a good fucking slut. They say goodnight to you at the entrance to the tavern, though it’s only the last you’ll be seeing of them, they’re going to be keeping an eye on you. Just to make sure you’re not a threat, of course. Certainly not because the Wet Wick’s curtains are thin enough to show your silhouette as you change- oh god you’re fucking yourself and they’re about to cum on the spot

Perv!Vere who greets you as you come downstairs from your room, giving you no time to ask what he’s doing slumming in this shithole as his eyes dilate in that unnatural way. He glares at you and storms outside, because you smell like everyone but him. And that’s the opposite of what it should be. He’s about to go and tell you to stop paying attention to those idiots (yes, even Ais… he’s better than Ais, don’t you know that??) when he realizes there’s another smell on you. Your own need… all relieved now, hm? He knows he could make you feel so much better than you could do for yourself, but he has no time to dwell on that as he slinks back inside and up the stairs to your room, finding your discarded underwear with your sticky, hot wetness all over it. You’re supposed to be the needy one, not him… but that doesn’t stop him from burying his face in the soft cloth and breathing you in until you’re the only scent he knows, his tail wagging furiously as he pockets the garment and heads back outside. 

Perv!Leander who meets you at the bar when you come downstairs, who loves that sleepy, exhausted look in your eyes. You look so so so pretty like that… and it’s so easy to slip you more and more drinks until he’s herding letting your curious hands run allllll over his body… even the parts that make him shiver and bite his lip. Maybe he should tie you up instead, hm? But he won’t do that. Not yet at least, not when your sweet touch is pressing against his most sensitive spot and your tipsy self is giggling at his blushy reaction. Do you know what you’re doing to him? Please keep doing it… please, he’ll be a good boy for you just keep doing it. He takes such good care of you, leading you back up to your room, helping you strip down to your undergarments, practically tucking you in. Wait, how did he get into your room? You were sure you locked it when you left. Oh well, he’s just being sweet, nothing to worry about.. 

[th0rnless-r0ses]

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒*ੈ✩‧₊˚❀˖°

cw: mdni (i'll block u), gn!reader, kissing, public-ish (no one sees), oral, cum swallowing

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒*ੈ✩‧₊˚❀˖°

Lovers who go wild at the tiniest things.

You’re not even trying to be sexy, and they’re not even trying to fuck, but then they see your hands move in just the right way, or your lips quirk up at the ends, or your body shifts in just the most perfect way to make their minds go blank.

They shepherd you off to somewhere private, where no prying eyes will get to see the way you melt when they cut you off with a kiss, cradling your chin like you’re made of porcelain.

“Please?” They ask softly, breathless as they let their free hand slide across your stomach to the curve of your hip. “You don’t have to do anything,” they plead into your neck. “You just have to stand there and look pretty while I take care of you… And I’ll take such good care of you.”

And when you nod, the air effectively stolen from your lungs, they leave one last lingering kiss on your lips before dropping down to their knees. They only pull your clothes down just enough to reveal what they’re after, preserving what little modesty you can have before they’re drowning in your taste.

They drink from you like wanderers starved, so engorged in the flavor of your arousal that they don’t even realize that they’ve got one of your legs draped over their shoulder, giving them the perfect angle for more while keeping you upright.

You taste like heaven, the musk of your arousal like the nectar of the gods with each swipe of their tongue. The sounds that leave you make their heart race in their chest, regardless of if they’re hushed whispers of their names or desperate pleas of “more, please, faster—“ They just want more of you.

So they guide your fingers to their hair, and it’s the only real warning you get before their efforts double over. Spit and pleasure drips down their chin, but they don’t care that they’re a mess. They’re a mess for you, in service of you and your voice and the roll of your hips against their mouth as they guide you closer and closer to your climax until finally—finally—the thread snaps and you fall apart.

Even then, they don’t pull away just yet. They swallow what they can, then lick up the rest, even if that means you’re both still a mess afterwards.

“You’re so pretty…” They press a chaste kiss against your inner thigh, too drunk off of you to say or do anything else. When you meet their eyes you can see the pure adoration in them, as well as their own need writhing tortuously from the effect you have on them. But loving you, tasting you, making you come completely undone with nothing but their tongue… that’s more than enough for them.

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒*ੈ✩‧₊˚❀˖°

Characters I was thinking of: Vash the Stampede, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Hawks/Keigo Takami, Laios Touden, Argenti, Serval, Jing Yuan, Karlach Cliffgate, Leandar, Kuras, + your faves <3

[creepsterdreams]

AIS x fem!MC smut

I gave into the demons

Content warnings: fem!MC, voyeurism, mind control(it is consensual), cunnilingus, tentacles, does this count as monster fucking?, edging, overstimulation, technical threesome, Ais being an asshole, MC is unfortunately Afab because I have yet to learned how to write smut for men, piv smut

Word count: 974

Authors note: this is my first time writing smut so please spare me🙏🏾

18+! MDNI

Out of all the words in the English language, none of them could come close to being what you could describe as how you feel about Ais at the moment.

Damn him, damn him and his handsome face that convinced me to do this.

Incoherent mumbling, whimpering and wet slaps are the only things you're able to hear at the moment. The sound of the man above you desperately moaning into your ear as he repeatedly slams his cock deep inside you, making your mind more and more blank by the second.

The man who you learned was named Seren was currently under Ais’s full control, abiding to his every word at the snap of his fingers. All the while Ais sat back watching closely, his legs spread wide across the makeshift seat as he loosely wore a black robe.

He takes another drag of his cigarette before whispering something in a language that is unknown to you. Almost immediately, Seren’s eyes flash a bright red, stopping his movements, causing you to whimper at the loss of the pleasure.

But before you could voice your frustrations to Ais, the feeling of Seren harshly sucking on your clit makes your body arch and you tightly grab onto his brown locks.

Ais chuckles as he listens to you beg him to slow down, taking in the sight of your tears and attempts at pushing him away.

“Tapping out yet sparrow?” He says as he wolfishly grins.

You sit up enough to glare at him for a mere moment. If it’s one thing he has it’s all of the audacity, this was his idea and he can’t even give you the benefit of having some power here?

Seren continues working you towards your impending orgasm. Balancing between circling his tongue around your slick center and inserting two fingers into your pussy.

“Mmmmgh don’t stop, please don’t stop I’m so close” You whine out as you grip even harder onto Seren’s hair. This causes Seren to whimper in between your legs, which sends you headfirst into a powerful wave of pleasure that has you quite literally shaking against the bed.

Seren continues eating you out through your orgasm, switching to only softly suckling at your clit as he watches you with needy eyes despite Ais influence on him. You moan and weakly push against his shoulders but he shows no sign of stopping.

But as Seren is slowly pushing you towards finishing yet again, Ais whispers something causing Seren to come to a full stop and start kissing up your body before he began sloppily kissing you, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

You hear the sound of shuffling to your left, assuming that it’s Ais probably adjusting himself in his seat. But in the midst of you making out with the man you feel something slimy begin sliding up your stomach, and in between both you and Seren.

You shutter as you feel the appendage slip itself around your body and across your chest. And before you can think further about it you gasp into Seren’s mouth as you feel a sharp squeeze against your throat.

But then your left to assume that Ais said yet another command to him. Seren pulls away from your puffed lips and pushes you back down on the bed, before adjusting his position so that his cock was now lined up against your entrance. And you feel the tentacle wrapped around your neck tighten itself as you let out a sharp moan when Seren slides himself into you.

Seren yet again starts slamming his cock rapidly into your already sensitive pussy, wet slaps echoing throughout the room as your able to do nothing but mindlessly whimper into his ear.

“S-so good…so good Seren hah” you mewl out. He responds to your whining with a deep groan, his hands tightly gripping onto the sheets below, also seemingly wanting to reach his peak.

As you get closer to orgasm, one of Ais’s tentacles slides up your body again, inserting itself in between you and the man’s body before feeling its suckers attach to your hardened nipples. You yell out a moan again, your back curving up against Seren’s torso as overstimulation begins to retake hold.

You keep letting out desperate mewls, determined to finally feel that sweet sensation of release, but of course, Ais would only allow you to enjoy so much.

And just as you and Seren are on the edge, a whisper echoes through the air, all ministrations stopping and Seren pulling out of your dripping entrance and sitting back against the futon.

You thrash around, cussing at Ais for not letting you cum and stopping right as you're at the peak. But your tantrum stops as soon as you look up, seeing Ais drag his tongue against his bottom lip as he stands and takes only a few steps towards the both of you, putting out his cigarette in the process by throwing it to the floor and stepping on it.

He sends you an almost devilish smile, tightly grabbing Seren by the hair to yank his head back, allowing Ais to land a deep, bruising kiss on him, nearly shoving his tongue down the young man’s throat as he tastes you on his tongue.

Ais then pulls away after a minute, letting go of his hair and letting him catch his breath. And as Seren is taking a break for the first time since this whole thing began, Ais steps over to you, leaning down and resting on one knee, trapping you in his presence as his hand reaches up to grab at your chin and lift your head up so your staring directly into his lustful gaze.

“Oh sparrow, I think you're confused if you think I’ll let you cum on any cock other than mine.”

You were in for a long night.

Author’s note: my first smut ever guys who’s cheering

[brayneworms]

— 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

note: please find the complete list of content warnings in the fics themselves, and note that this masterlist will only display the more 'extreme' ones. minors and ageless blogs, do not interact with this post or any of the fics linked.

almost none of these fics will feature sub!reader. reader will either be a dom, switch, or power dynamics won't be explored. almost all readers will be totally gender-neutral, with maybe three exceptions such as amab or afab anatomy.

these kinks, characters and content are subject to change.

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟏

fingering + hinata hajime content. new relationship, gn!reader, post-killing game, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟐

frottage , sexual frustration, virginity + leviathan content. virgin!levi, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟑

dry humping + sampo koski, tighnari content. hatsex elements, gn reader, tba summary. tba content. inexperienced!tighnari, gn!reader, ear petting, tba summary.

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟒

overstimulation + xiao content. inexperienced!xiao, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟓

face-sitting + hayakawa aki content. afab!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟔

collar/leash + mammon content. light petplay elements, anal fingering, praise kink, gn!reader summary. mammon lost a bet, but he doesn't consider it much of a loss, considering

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟕

praise kink + jolyne cujoh content. afab!fem!reader, switch!reader, established relationship, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟖

chastity + dazai osamu content. gn!reader, brat dazai, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟗

slutwear + leander content. masochist!leander, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎

kissing + johnny joestar content. anal fingering, slight internalised ableism, crying summary. johnny's lost all feeling below his waist, but you try to find another way to make him feel good

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟏

teasing + akutagawa ryunosuke content. virgin!akutagawa, gn reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐

orgasm denial/control, lingerie + sonia nevermind, tanaka gundham content. threesome, switch!reader, gn reader, established relationship, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑

bondage + shenhe, scaramouche content. trust excerises, established relationship, gn reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒

uniform + belphegor content. nurse!belphegor, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟓

boot worship + al-haitham content. hatesex elements, brat!alhaitham, gn!reader summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟔

body worship + tsukimi shin content. sweet and sappy, gn!reader, established relationship, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟕

blowjob + edogawa ranpo content. amab!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖

service top/power bottom + cyno content. pb!cyno, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟗

biting + yosano akiko content. gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎

thigh fucking + mhin content. amab!mhin, hatesex elements, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏

hair pulling + kishibe content. masochist!kishibe, light degradation, gn!reaeder, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟐

sexual exhaustion + komaeda nagito content. gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟑

fancy dress + asmodeus, solomon content. threesome, switch!reader, gn!reader summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟒

bratty sub + urie kuki content. gn!reader, brat urie, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟓

leather + higashiyama kobeni content. inexperienced!kobeni, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟔

wax play + kaneki ken content. kuroneki, masochist!kaneki, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟕

edging + matsuda touta content. soft, gn!reader, post-canon, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖

enclosed space + l lawliet content. trapped in a closet, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

[kumiaku]

Kinktober Day 16 - Object Insertion (Mhin)

Kinktober Day 16 - Object Insertion, Mhin x Reader, TOUCHSTARVED

Masterlist

Misc. Tags/Info - gn reader, hole is used tho but it can be in reference to anal or vaginal as no specification is given, could be considered dub-con as both reader and mhin are at the very least tipsy though they both are able to like reason and stuff, reader is touchstarved mc, object insertion ofc, reader and mhin are both touch starved ofc, saliva as lube, slight oral fixation, reader is implied to have hair.

WC - 885

Nsfw under cut

Eridia was a mysterious place, one that housed many secrets, but you were desperate and this was the only place left you could possibly think of which housed just as many secrets as answers. Of course, nothing could ever be easy, so you needed to find help. 

Luckily, or unluckily, there were people just as desperate for answers as you were, but perhaps they were even more secretive to you than the city of Eridia itself. Mhin was simply an enigma, hot and cold, helpful but adverse to you at first. Despite that, Mhin was a lead and something compelled you to find similarities between the two of you. 

Maybe that’s why you began to think of them in that way, or maybe it was their flushed face whenever you were more bold. They almost never acted on their own, careful to a fault, but as soon as one step was taken, they needed more. You needed more too. So when the flush of drinks accompanied your actions, making you bolder than ever, and the flush on their face accompanied the flushness of their lips to yours. You both were desperate. 

Even with how starved you were for their touch, you were scared, careful with your own hands, not cupping their face but instead their hips. They didn’t seem to mind, pressing forward with their open mouth, wide and devouring your lips with ferocity you weren’t quite expecting. 

The more the two of you progressed, the more lingering touches bled into your skin, it made you ache and crave and want for more and more. Mhin knew your mystery well enough, avoiding your hands and arms all together, their hands hesitating for a moment on your waistband, but when you didn’t resist one bit, they persisted. 

At first it was their rough fingers pressing into your skin, pushing forward and gauging your reaction, their lips left yours for a moment, no doubt intending to follow through with their hands, but the whine that left your mouth caused them to pause. Even with your eyelashes low, you could see their expression shift from one of heated hunger, to sheer uninhibited lust - and they leaned forward, giving into your unintentional brattiness. 

It felt impossible to breathe, blood rushing both down and up in some kind of veined tug of war. You were hard pressed to find which you were craving more, their lips on yours or their fingers to enter into the hole they were teasing. 

Your room was far from silent, the bustle of the Wet Wick’s usual crowd outside, the vulgar sounds slipping free from both you and Mhin. Your breath was leaving you in hard and heavy pants as Mhin pulled away - your lungs strained - but at this point the desire to have their lips on yours was more necessary for your survival than actually breathing. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, again, leaning against the headboard of the bed as Mhin fumbled with something. For a moment, you thought it’d be their belt, but it wasn’t. When you opened your eyes and your vision was graced with their presence again, they grabbed something from your nightstand, looking troubled as their eyes scanned the first drawer as well. 

“Mhin?” You spoke, your voice almost sounding unfamiliar at this point. They looked back towards you, holding your hairbrush by the side with the bristles. “What’re you looking for?” 

Mhin furrowed their eyebrows, their lips tugged down in a frown that stretched taut when their eyes locked onto yours again. “I thought - nevermind.” They shook their head, “I can make this work.” 

They took the handle of your brush into their mouth, their eyes still open but half-lidded, looking down at you. You could feel heat rising just by looking at them, your lips parted as you watched them swirl the handle in their mouth. Thick globs saliva ran down the handle as they pulled it from their mouth, and once more they reached towards you. 

Then they paused, looking at your awestruck, and no doubt very aroused face, but still checking, “this is fine, right?” 

You swallowed and nodded, feeling the handle of your brush pressing against the rim of your hole, their mouth was warm against yours but their saliva had grown cold in the few seconds it was in the air. They swallowed your gasp as they began to slide it inside of you. It was a good shape, stretching you, even if it felt a little sharp around the edges. 

Their tongue met yours, teeth clashing for a moment before you twisted your head just as they did, harmonizing with one another. They let it set inside of you, let you adjust to the strangely shaped handle just enough for you to become more needy. You dug your fingertips into their sides as they began to slide the object in and out of you, teeth unconsciously meeting their lips. 

A moan rippled from their throat as they continued to kiss you, not pausing or slowing down as they began to put more focus on the hair brush in your hole. Despite most of Mhin being a mystery, it was clear they were intent on maintaining that image, even if they were willing, or more than willing, to become intimate with you.

[doki-doki-imagines]

tw: smut, choking, afab!reader

author note: Since I'll never have canon butler!vere I decided to write my own butler!vere, the power of brattiness is on my side LOL. I don't know how it is but I hope you'll enjoy reading this!

How you could trust that scam of a mage that is Leander is beyond you. 

“I just need a little help, nothing will go wrong I swear!” He says with a whiny voice that makes him sound so pathetic

 ‘My ass’ you thought.

That’s how thanks to your kind heart you find yourself with a new curse, that is not worse than the previous one, you must admit, but still a pain in the ass.

Talking about ass, seeing Leander jump around in full cheerleader uniform to keep the humor high between the Bloodhounds was a real sight, his mint green miniskirt flying around and rising a bit too high than it should, giving a glimpse of the curve of his ass.

Maybe if Leander put some more work in his brain rather than in his muscles you wouldn’t be in this situation. You glance at him from a corner of the bar, and your eyes soften at the scene in front of you; everyone so happy, not a single worry, just cheers and the clacks of pints of beer.

Just happiness, and you feel a pang in your heart thinking about how much you have missed all of this in your life.

A pang that rapidly left when warmth engulfed your body.

“What are you doing here, all alone?” It’s Vere's raspy voice. You turn around and you see the spark in those foxy eyes, but it takes a second, an uncoordinated movement, and your hands fall on his chest, your very naked hands on his equally bare chest.

You can see his eyes getting wide before white smoke spreads all around him, you look around but thankfully nobody notices what is going on. When you look back it’s almost hard to believe what is standing in front of you.

Vere is in a butler uniform, a purple tie matching his previous clothing, but the color of the uniform is lucid black in contrast with the white shirt. He looks at himself, maroon hair swirls with every move of his head.

“If you wanted my services you should have just asked” He chuckles, that fake chuckle he always uses to hide his real, more beautiful but way higher laughter.

You stay still, Vere is beautiful, and also very dangerous, your mouth is dry and you don’t understand if it is because of his new uniform or because his proposal sounded cunning to your trained ears.

“Come with me, master.” You notice how low his voice gets before calling you that way, his gloved hand touches your waist, slightly forcing you towards one of the many alleyways in the back of the bar. You keep walking, but your eyes find their pace looking at his face, his marks still present, the corner of his lips upwards, his ears twitching in what you suspect is delight.

Vere opens one door at the end of the alley, the wood is moldy and the red color is now barely visible, you don’t move an inch, so Vere bows a little, his hand toward the room, a silent ‘after you’.

The room is surprisingly clean, lace doily adorning the tables, fresh flowers in each vase, they are your faves and you start to question how much the little incident of before was actually planned.

“Sit down master, I’ll prepare you tea.” Vere taps on a chair in front of the kitchen island, he doesn’t wait for you to move, already walking towards the kettle, showing you his back.

“I’d rather have coffee” You reply, finally sitting where Vere showed you “Oolong tea it is then” Vere chirps, maybe hoping he got nicer was asking too much.

Silence resonates in the room, while you both wait for the water to boil, Vere never turns to you, so you have the time to admire his new fit: apart from his shoulder the upper part of the uniform is backless, you can see his spine and you remember when Ais told you that some yokai hate to have their back covered since it is one of the most sensible part of their bodies. Your heart starts to thrum faster, thinking how much you’d like to trace his spine down with your fingertips, your gaze lower till you meet the fur of his tail, so big and soft and you know how much Vere likes to take care of it.

“You should snap a picture” Vere takes you down on earth again “I’d like to look at myself when all of this will wear off.” You don’t have time to reply, but maybe it is better that way, he turns a little, so he can side-eye your reaction and you feel so little under his teasing gaze.

“Your tea.” You hesitate before taking the cup, tea has never been your favorite beverage but right now it tastes like abrosia on your tongue. Vere doesn’t even touch his cup, eye feline while he slowly walks behind you, his hands now on your shoulders.

“You look so tense.” His gloved hands try to untangle the knots in your muscles, the point of his tail tickles up your right leg, while you can sense his lips getting more and more near your left ear.

“What do you want me to do master? I’m here for you.” Vere whispers, hands sliding down your shoulders to your collarbones, lips now dangerously close to your neck. Warmth envelops your body, clothes now a bother you’d gladly get rid of.

“Touch me, Vere.” His eyes soften, you don’t see them, but you feel his sharp canines into your neck, and his gloved hands running to your chest, groping and playing with it, the sensation dulled by the layers of clothes.

“Eat me-“ Your phrase interrupted by Vere’s mouth on yours, his teeth sinking in your bottom lip, but not hard enough to break it, his tongue soon meeting yours in a passionate dance of mingling breaths and broken moans.

And it was so hard not to grip his face to pull him closer, to sink your hands in his marron hair, maybe massage his furry ears-

For now, you’ll have to settle for sucking his tongue, savoring his gasps.

Sadly he pulls away, you follow his lips not ready to relinquish the warmth his making you feel. Vere smirks, it’s nice to see such delicious prey so needy for him. He opens your pants, pushing your hands away when you try to do it, his lips finding yours each time you try to get in control of the situation.

“Turn on your back.” You follow Vere's order, not before throwing your pants somewhere on the floor. You soon feel his hand on your hair, the next moment it pushed your head onto the kitchen counter, your ass up in the air, brushing against his clothed erection.

“You want to be eaten here too?” His gloved head touches your core, still covered by your undergarment, he plays with it, snapping it against your warmth, making you whine.

“Ah-ah master-“ His chest presses against your back “I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what you want” Vere chirps, but the low tone of his voice tells you he isn’t as unaffected as he’d like to look.

“Please, touch me there!” You moan out, knowing full well you’ll be flooded by shame when your mind will start to work again.

Now it’s not a problem, not when you feel Vere’s blowing on your now exposed sex, sticky strands already drenching your thighs

You gasp and Vere chuckles before delving into your core, Vere’s tongue swept between your dripping folds in a steady motion, sweeping upwards repeatedly before kissing and sucking your clit.

Your hips jerk, pushing his face even more against your buttcheeks, your sex clenches on his warm tongue, sticky with saliva and your essence.

“Fuck, Vere-“ You grip hard the kitchen island “you are so g-good, please-” mind getting numb by the fog of pleasure, body burning in bliss.

“You have been so good, so good” He whispers, between deep licks and gentle sucking.

Vere doesn’t stop even when you reach the apex of pleasure, lapping you up like a dog. When he finally pulls off you turn around, eyes teary so he is a bit blurred, but you can see it, your essence staining his chin, some strands of his marron hair stuck on his face, your gaze trails downwards when you notice his boner constrained in his tailored pants.

“Yeah master turn around, you want this too right” His voice is raspy and you nod while he pushes down his pants, he doesn’t wear any underwear and you bask in the satisfaction you could get Vere so hard.

 He unties the bow “Gimme your hands” He orders, the soft cotton of his purple tie bonding your wrist together behind your back “This way you won’t have to worry” Vere winks, before pulling out a tissue from the front pocket of his jacket, you tilt your head silently questioning what he wanted to do, a smirks grace his face.

You understand when he pushes it into your mouth “You’ll need it, we don’t want to wake all our neighboors right?” Vere winks, and you would have gladly sent him to fuck himself if it wasn’t for your full mouth and his cock penetrating your core. You’d love to wait a moment, for the ache to dull a little, but Vere doesn’t share your idea, fucking into your hole without any care hands leaving indents on your thighs for how hard he is trying to keep you in place.

“V-Vere! S-Slow down-“ You gasps out, spine arching

“Master, you still don’t know your body?” Vere slows a little, his thrust still hitting deep into you, making you feel all his length “Your core is clenching so hard, it doesn’t want me to pull away” You close your eyes, head tilting back, letting out a shameful sigh; fuck he is right.

Damn Vere and his skills.

His right hand moves from thigh and trail up to reach your neck, so exposed and inviting. Vere grips, hard, and you gag opening your eyes wide.

“Master, please tell me to choke you.”  Red eyes swirling in liquid pleasure, mouth shaped in an ‘o’, shirt wrinkled, jacket in a similar fashion, he takes off the tissue in your mouth, drenched in spit.

“Choke me, Vere.” You gasp out the best you can, his hand so tight on your throat. He nods and moans out, the more he increases the pressure the harder you clench on his length.

You feel your mind numbing, his thrusts get faster and arhythmic, but they always hit your sweet spot which makes you see stars every time. He pressed his forehead against yours, his sweat mixing with yours, Vere pounds into you, slower, but harder and you can see his maroon tail high every time he sheath his entire length into you.

A higher moan from the man on top of you is a telltale sign of his impending orgasm, your lips touch his initiating a kiss that is all tongue and whines till you both reach your apex.

Vere pulls out and you soon feel his cum staining your thighs, you wince thinking you’ll need to ask the scam mage for some kind of pill. Vere massages your thighs “Is your throat fine?”, he kisses your knee while he waits for your answer “It has been better, but I’m fine.”

Vere nods “This curse of yours is pretty interesting, do you agree?” He pushes back some strands of his maroon hair, reddish eyes looking directly into yours.

“Talking about curses, can you untie me?” You ask arching your back, showing your still bonded wrists.

Vere smirks and a shiver runs down your spine; nothing good comes from that.

“I think the master needs to relax some more-“ Vere gets on his knees again, you lift yourself a little from the counter, looking at him in the eyes, pupils wide and with that sparkle.

You sigh “Yeah the master really needs it, the night is still long after all, help me out” You notice his tail wag left and right.

“My pleasure.”

The night is still long.

[hx4rt]

A NIGHT WELL SPENT **

note :: hi!! this is my first x reader and im starting it with my most recent LI which is Leander!! (im rlly sorry if the image is low quality idk how to fix it)

character :: Leander x GN!reader

fandom :: TOUCHSTARVED

summary :: This takes place at the end of the demo where you realize everyone u met are friends, since it's your first night, you decide to talk to Leander before going to sleep but your interaction with Leander escalates quickly.

(SLIGHT 18+!!)

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YOUR POV

In a space of a heartbeat, I realize that there's no telling when or if I'll see any of them ever again.

Whoever I pursue may be the last person I get to speak to tonight. I think carefully before picking Leander.

For the second time today, I find myself squeezing through the crowd in order to reach Leander. As soon as he sees me, his easy smile fades. "Are you alright, (NAME)?" Im not used to someone looking at me with such concern. "I've been through worse today.." I trail off. "From the sound of it, you've had quite the day. How're you holding up?" He asks genuinely. "Well, I'm still alive,,, that counts as something, right?" He chuckles quietly. "Eridia's not an easy place to live in, but you'll get used to it eventually." "Let's hope so." Leander signals the bartender. "I'm parched. Want anything?" He asks you. "Just water, please." "Make that two." Leander orders the bartender. After a few conversations, Leander and I go to a more secluded place to talk. As I wonder about what else to talk about, Leander says "-And if you ever need a taste of normalcy, I'm always here for you." He blushes whilst staring elsewhere. "Even now?" Leander swallows. The table under his elbow groans as he leans closer.

The booth is so narrow that he completely blocks my view of the bar counter. It's almost as though he and I are completely alone. "If thats what you want." He whispers due to the tiny space between Leander and me. "How did it make you feel?" He questions. "It was.. warm? exciting? I don't know how to explain it." Slowly, he starts unwinding the bandages on my arms whilst looking at me. I cast a nervous glace around the bar. But as far as I can see, no one is paying us any attention. Leander squeezes my hand gently, cause my attention to focus on him. "No one will notice." He whispers in an almost seductive manner. He pulls back, using his teeth to tug off his gloves. Our eyes meet, and Leander offers his hand again. "There you go, hand holding on demand." He smiles. A lump forms in my throat.

I bblurt out the first request that comes to mind. "Can I touch your face?" He looks surprised, but agrees. I lean over the table, hesitating before I reach his face. When my fingers graze his jaw, Leander laughs softly. "That tickles, it's fine, you can just.." Leander trails off as we make eye contact. I unknowingly place my fingers between Leander's chin. Leander leans closer, our lips almost connecting.

"We should take this elsewhere." He smirks before pulling me up to my temporary room. As soon as we enter in, Leander locks the door and grabs my chin between his fingers. "(Name).." He whispers before he closes the space between our lips. I kiss back, wrapping my arms around Leander. "mghn-.." Leander moans into my mouth. We pull away before reconnecting our lips again. Leander shoves his tongue into my mouth, both of us moaning. "(Name)..." He mumbles into my mouth. I moan. He pulls away, making me whine. He chuckles. "Needy, are you now?" He says in a seductive, raspy voice. Fuck was it hot. "Leandeeerrr....~" Leander kisses my lips, trailing down to my neck, eventually biting softly "A-Aah~!" I squeal. It's gonna be a long night.

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And that concludes the first part of this oneshot! This was only the beginning.

Anyways, if you like this oneshot, pls do like it or anything else!

@qcewcey

[eilaafterhours]

Wrapped Around Your Fingers [Ais]

Content: Box Au, Switching POVs, Reader is a BAMF, Smut, Sexual Tension, Grinding, Thigh Fucking, Possessive Ais (TOUCHSTARVED), Written Before Game’s Full Release, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Continuation of: Heart on Your Sleeve, Jaw on My Knuckles [Ais]

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Just as he thought, a cold shower didn’t cut it. However, when he did say fuck it, and let go, it didn’t work. Yeah, he came (more times than he wanted to admit), but that didn’t stop his mind from wandering. From remembering things that happened under a new…sexual lens, or making up completely new things. 

Like you putting him in his place (which wasn’t too far from what you already did, but he wouldn’t mind if you got more handsy with him).

Alright! That’s enough thinking for tonight! He needed another shower and to hit the damn hay. 

Ais did not sleep well that night (he came a few more times in the shower, and attempted to go to bed with a raging hard-on). 

The days flew by, and it was like he hadn’t been jerking off to you every night. It was a miracle that he was able to act like his mind wasn’t full of filth. He guessed that since your regular business attitude was rubbing off on him.

(But what if you treated him like that in be—)

Alright, that’s it! He needed to go blow off some steam (and train).

Your brows pinched together as you watched Ais jump up from his desk, snatch his duffle bag, and fly out the room. He had been acting weird these past few days. He kept his distance, didn’t make the childish-ass jokes he used to, and would leave the room multiple times a day. There was only one answer.

Mans had it BAD for you. 

You smirked to yourself as you continued working. Finally, you weren’t the only one feeling something. Despite your completely perfect work ethic, you still could see that Ais was an insanely attractive man. You were never going to pursue anything, let it be a fleeting thing until someone else came through (as if there could be anyone other than him(well there was Ocudeus—). However, with the new development of his feelings for you, things have taken a turn. 

Boss made a dollar, you made a dime. Time to hatch a plot on company time.

To be honest, you didn’t have to do much. Turn up the charm a bit, dress a little more “I’m fucking my boss” casual, and tug his leash a bit more. 

“Ais, this is the fifth time you’ve gotten up.” You hadn’t even looked up at him, fingers still flying across the keyboard. “Sit your firm ass down.” 

He did as was told, but slump down with his head on the desk. 

“Cute.”, you thought. He was that big, but nothing but a soft dork. 

Soon to be your dork, hopefully. 

Probably. 

He lifted his head up, turning his attention back to his own work. The raging blush and hopping knee both telling you:

Definitely. 

Ais had absolutely no clue how he ended up in this situation. 

“Are you gonna keep breathing down my neck, or are you gonna do something, Ais?” 

“I’d go beat that bastard up now,” His hands were on your waist, threatening to go lower. “If it didn’t end up looking bad for you.” 

“Then you need to make it quick.” Was your answer.

But he sure as hell wasn’t asking any questions. 

His hands, that had been creeping, immediately went for your belt buckle to work your pants off. You helped him with it, but stopped him before he could really get his hands on you.

“Stay outside. I don’t want to take your dick for the first time here, of all places.”

He nodded his head, shoving your pants and underwear down to your knees. “Whatever you say, beautiful.” 

“Ais…”

“I’m being serious.” He was sure you were glaring at him through the mirror, but he was too busy looking at your dripping cunt.

You spread your legs for him. “Well then, hurry up. The match starts in ten minutes.” 

Yeah, and if he didn’t feel you soon, he was gonna burst just from looking at you. Regardless, though, he was going to commit all of this to memory.

“Damn, you’d think you’re the one who’s needy here.” He had freed himself from his shorts and boxers, and quickly placed himself against your slick. “Oh, wait, you are.”

“Just…mmh, shut up and get me off.”

He didn’t say anything, just started grinding into you. He relished in the way his pelvis smacked against your ass and thighs, and how each stroke became smoother as your arousal coated his cock.

But he wanted more.

So once you were both slick enough, he instructed you to close your thighs tight, and to hang on to something. 

And he went to town on you. 

If anyone else hard the vanity banging against the wall, no they didn’t.

Everything that went on in this room was meant for the two of you alone. For him, it was how you tried your best to stay quiet, to keep your eyes from rolling back, and the feeling of your thighs quivering as they attempted to stay closed. He was sure that despite everything you were feeling, you were committing things to memory yourself. 

“Ah—mh…Ais—” Your thighs slammed close as you came.  Ais was already on edge as well, so when you pulled his dick into an even tighter grip, he came as well. 

Now the room was quiet, except for the both of your labored breath.

Until your phone’s alarm went off, signalling that he had a minute to get out there.

You were the first to move away, reaching for your bag. He sighed as he adjusted himself. He really hated how things ended there. It made him feel gross, like he just used you for himself.

“The quicker you finish the match, the quicker we can get back to your place.” 

“Then you better be ready in twenty, sweet cheeks.” 

At this point, Ais couldn’t even remember what his issue Ocudeus even was. It really was as simple as beat his ass, then go home with you.

“You think you’re slick, but I know you. I know that stupidass dopey face. So, what’d that bitch do? Gave you head, or what?” He smirked, attempted to cut him with a right cross, “I doubt it, though. Rather be choking on my dick instead.”

Oh, yeah. It was his fucking mouth (amongst many other things).

He socked him a good one. Didn’t knock him on his ass like he wanted, but hey, he still had another six minutes to fuck with him before he needed to be back with you.

The car ride to Ais’ place was quiet. You can tell that there was some anger simmering within him. Ocudeus probably had said something to him, probably about you and him.

Oh well! You (and your pussy) would help him realize that whatever the fuck that loser said wasn’t worth it.

And it didn’t take long for you to get started on that because the moment he locked the door, his hands were on you. 

Your lips curled upward as he shoved your bottoms down. “Guess we’re not making it to the bedroom.” Your smile widen as his gaze found your little surprise. “But it’s okay because we can skip the foreplay.”

Ais sighed something fierce, then he looked you in the eyes. “I promise to do this right another time.”

You pushed your bottoms down the rest of the way and stepped out of them. “Of course you will. You always keep your promises, Ais.”

:) So, I was told (THE VOICES) to leave it there, so I guess I'll see y'all in another part lol

If you wanna hear me be on some shit, here's my Bluesky~

Masterlist

[lastsubstance]

When You Borrow Something, You Give It Back

Relationship: Leander x MC/Reader (Cis-AFAB)

Rating: Explicit

Summary:  You’ve had sex before. You’ve had orgasms before. But not like this. It's different with Leander. This is the first and last time.

Word Count: 4,754 words

Tags: Cisgender AFAB MC/Reader, Light Bondage, Female/Feminine Descriptive Language, Penis In Vagina Sex

-> Read it on Ao3 <-

See excerpt below:

The aromatics of lavender and peppermint fill the air, and you breathe in deep, lungs flooded with aphrodisia, the relaxing diffusion given to you by Kuras for sleep awakening the barely muted tingle in your spirit that bursts alive in this stifling closeness. The essence coats your body, seeping into your skin, heightening the wanton experience between your legs. The air in the room is heavy and electrified, tickling the fine hairs along your exposed flesh as you release an unsteady breath; the chair creaks underneath the weight of combined bodies but holds steady.

You were surrounded by, clutching to, grasping for, and impaled on Leander.

Bandages off, removed with your trousers and undergarments and left on the floor in the deceptively luxurious expansive room reserved for escapades such as this, you hold the lower hem of your shirt in your mouth to free your fingers to grip and grope for all parts of the Bloodhound leader beneath you. What was once a lazy, slow curation of touch had morphed into a desperate race of need and possession. A groan from the clothed chest you clawed at sent a shiver down your spine. Leander might agree, but it still didn’t feel like enough.

Maybe you shouldn’t’ve tied his hands.

[luckyarchivist]

a different kind of doctor (aismhin)

rating: explicit warnings: instance of revoked consent tags: enemies with benefits, size difference, oral sex, intersex mhin, "can't cum" disease (lol), mentioned ais/leander + mhin/leander summary: Mhin is having a problem—a purely medical problem, surely, but not the kind of problem Kuras and his clinic can fix. Luckily for them, there's a 6'1 Monster around who might just have the cure for what ails them. Also on AO3

“You’re in a worse mood than usual,” Leander says, eyeing Mhin across the bar of the Wet Wick. His voice carries naturally over the dull roar of the bar—probably because he’s used to shouting on the busiest nights.

Mhin resents his careless comment: as expected, Leander’s insights are ridiculously plain and aggravatingly correct. “Then don’t piss me off,” they reply, gruff.

As much as they hate it here, much of Mhin’s work revolves around the troubles of Lowtown and, therefore, of the Wet Wick. Too often they find themself sitting in this swill hall, waiting for a contact too hammered to remember their appointed meeting time. With an hour past since Mhin was to receive their commission, it’s looking like it’s going to be that kind of night. Again.

A low chuckle sounds from next to Mhin. “You make it pretty hard not to piss you off, dove.”

Mhin scowls. Ais hasn’t done anything (yet), but the terrible company and their inclusion in the conversation sours Mhin’s mood even further. Usually, the Monster and the mage would perform their odd fight-or-flirt ritual while Mhin ignored them in silent seething, but for some reason, both men seem fixated on Mhin and their problems tonight.

“So? What’s bothering my favorite freelancer?” Leander asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I know I owe you a favor or two. I could take care of it for you.”

Against their will, Mhin flushes. “No, you could not.”

“Oh? Sensitive issue?” Leander leans in, studying their expression. “Now I’m really curious. Not work-related, is it?”

“If I had a work-related issue, it would already be dead,” Mhin says flatly.

“It’s personal, obviously,” Ais says, not bothering to look at Mhin. “Dove never wants to talk about themself.”

“Personal and sensitive?” Leander hums. “Sexual?”

Mhin can’t help the spread of their flush to their ears. Leander’s expression droops into something grossly pitying. “Oh, you’re not...sick, are you? Did someone give you something?” Ais snorts.

“What? No!”

“That’s good at least,” Leander sighs.

“Do they even fuck other people to get a sex sickness?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“Oh, good point,” Leander says, as if he didn’t hear Mhin. Honestly, he probably didn’t. “Not that I’d ever call you a prude, but...ah, let’s say you have high standards.”

“Unapproachable, more like,” Ais says.

“I prefer not to be approached,” Mhin says back, through clenched teeth.

“If it’s not something involving someone else, then what...” Leander thinks for a moment. His face lights up as he snaps his fingers. “I’ve got it!” He points at Mhin triumphantly. “You can’t make yourself cum!” he says, too loudly.

Mhin bangs their head against the sticky bartop and, when that doesn’t do more than aggravate them further, pulls out a dagger and buries it in the wood. Leander yelps, and Mhin looks up with equal parts hope and fear.

The dagger is just next to Leander’s hand, centimeters away from chopping his pinky off at the knuckle. “Ouch, close one,” he chortles.

“Very close,” Ais murmurs. “You’ll get him next time.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Mhin snaps.

But, Leander has dug out the problem yet again—Mhin can’t cum. Somehow, in the last three months, they’ve lost the ability to make themself orgasm. And not that they— pleasure themself often, but on occasion they will as a form of stress relief. And not that they’re usually sunny and pleasant, but even they can feel themselves becoming more short-tempered, their words more clipped, their kills less clean.

That, to them, is the main issue. Their work requires focus and precision to be done cleanly, not rampaging aggression. The longer this goes on, the more their craft—and pay—may suffer.

“Well, if that’s the problem...” Leander pauses and peeks over at them, maybe to see if they’ll correct him, before continuing. “Have you tried—?

“Say something lewd and I’ll make sure you lose a finger this time.”

“Well, I do need those,” Leander chuckles. “I was just going to ask if you’ve tried holding an amorous congress with...somebody else? That might help.”

“Absolutely not.” Mhin spits on the floor. “I’m not fucking some stranger just to cum. I’m not you.”

“No need to be mean, I’m just trying to help! You know, if Kuras were here,” Leander drawls, “he'd probably say the same thing.”

Ais raises an eyebrow, and Leander shrugs, grinning. “Not that I can imagine him recommending sex to anyone, including himself.” He sighs to himself at this, as if Kuras’s sex life is an ongoing tragedy that could possibly be any of his concern. “But I'm sure he's well aware of the medical benefits of a willing partner.”

“Volunteering yourself as a doctor’s aid?” Ais asks.

Leander looks at Mhin hopefully, dull green eyes sparkling and arms spread. It's a hope Mhin crushes immediately with a short, “No.”

Mhin slept with Leander once: only once, and swore never to do it again. Not that it was bad, a part of them protests, he was good to me, but Mhin refuses to jeopardize their carefully curated professional career by sleeping with a client. Besides, Leander is...annoyingly easy to become attached to, and they can’t afford to let their guard down, not even with him.

But Leander isn't discouraged by their rejection. “Then I could give you a recommendation instead?”

With a showy gesture, Leander presents Ais’s slouching figure with wiggling fingers. The Monster’s eyebrows climb his forehead.

Mhin’s eyebrows shoot in the opposite direction. “You’re kidding.”

“I would only offer the best for you, Mhin,” Leander says with a flourish, very nearly hitting the shelf behind him—more intoxicated than he's letting on. “And I'm only speaking from personal experience, of course, but I've always been very satisfied.”

“Thanks for the endorsement,” Ais says. Strangely, Mhin can’t tell from his tone of voice if he’s kidding or not, though generally he seems to be deeply amused by Leander’s antics.

Mhin turns in their seat to look at Ais. He tolerates their scrutiny with no fidgeting, merely setting his check on his first to look lazily back at them.

They rarely observe him so thoroughly—rarely have a reason to, since he’s not yet a target and doesn’t do much but encourage Vere’s torment of them. But even they can admit how someone would find him physically attractive. He’s taller than most, clearly confident in his physical strength, with angles of sharpness across his features—his horns, his cheekbones, his earrings, his teeth. His hands are large and fight-marked, the bones rising up out of his skin. They resist the urge to look any lower, past the deep cut of his open shirt.

Is that why all of Mhin’s regular acquaintances seem to like Ais so much, despite the fact that he’s so awful? Just because he’s hot?

With their assessment over, Mhin delivers their verdict.

“I’d die before I fucked you,” Mhin says.

Surprisingly, Ais laughs at that, his lips opening up to show off his thick fangs. Leander groans. “Always so difficult, you. And so dramatic!”

“I thought someone with your track record might appreciate drama,” they say, putting their mouth back on the rim of their glass.

But after Mhin leaves, the strangest thing happens: They keep thinking about it. About fucking Ais.

They fall asleep thinking about it. When they disembowel a difficult Soulless the next day, blood and entrails in too many places, they’re thinking about it. When they collect their due payment, they’re thinking about it, and on their silent, cautious walk home they think about it  some more. And then they go to sleep and dream about it, about Ais of all beings.

It's frustrating. Annoying. Worse, unbearably arousing. They wake in the middle of the night, throbbing, their hand sneaking between their legs. It takes them too many minutes to realize they're imagining Ais' mouth on their skin, Ais' hands on their waist. Ais's cock between their legs. They press both hands into their eye sockets with a groan and smell themself and wish they were dead. 

Mhin is at least spared the crushing psychic death of bringing it up to Ais themself. He knows, somehow—in hindsight, it’s probably because his disgusting Seaspring puppets lurk in every corner of Eridia, following Mhin’s every move with their unsettling red eyes. The thought of those eyes looking in as they tried and failed to pleasure themself evokes a rare tremor. Well, it’s either that or Mhin let something slip to Leander after being cajoled into a drink and then forgot about it, the likelihood of which is low but never zero.

Regardless, it’s been long enough that Mhin’s almost fooled themselves into thinking that their problem is forgotten. A bolt of dread runs through them when they turn the corner and see Ais next to the door to their semi-temporary lodgings, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. 

“Heard you were looking for me,” Ais says, still not opening his eyes.

“From who?”

“Nobody in particular.” He opens one eye, and rolls it down to stare at Mhin. “Why? Did I hear wrong?”

Mhin doesn’t respond to the question. Both Ais’s eyes open, smiling, as Mhin unlocks their door.

“Don’t expect to get anything out of this,” Mhin says, low and measured. “Do you understand? This is just—business.”

“So you’re letting me in.” It’s not a question.

Mhin doesn’t leave the door open for Ais. In fact, they close it behind him—but he catches it before it shuts, of course, and tromps behind Mhin, up the stairs to their bedroom.

The first thing Ais does is tie Mhin’s hands to the bed frame.

He works quickly, humming a few notes of something under his breath. When he backs off, Mhin pulls hard at the restraints. They’re tied well. Mhin’s almost impressed. Almost. Mostly, they’re annoyed.

“Was this necessary?” they ask.

“I’m not convinced you won’t try to kill me while we’re doing this, so yeah.”

Mhin scoffs, pulling at the restraints again. “If you think I need my hands to kill you—”

“I think it'll be a lot harder to kill me without your hands,” Ais replies, ”but you're welcome to get creative.” He snickers. “Don't think you'll beat Leander in that department, though.”

“Don't talk about him right now,” Mhin mutters, resolutely pushing away thoughts of Leander touching them over instead of Ais, sucking bruises into their skin again, running his stupid mouth while he fucks them.

Once their hands are out of the way, Ais undresses them: unbuttoning their shirt to reveal the pale, flat planes of their chest; sliding their pants and underclothes down their legs, the fabric skimming over where their clit lies limp between the lips of their cunt. Mhin’s skin crawls at the sensation of his overwarm hands on their skin. They should’ve done this part themselves. It feels—too intimate. And Ais takes off very little in comparison, only dropping his belts and yukata but not even removing his jewelry. It’s not just intimacy: Mhin feels vulnerable.

Ais crawls over them, dipping his head into the crook of Mhin’s neck. His breath trails over the skin and brings up goosebumps. Mhin feels dagger points against their throat as Ais sucks a bruise up, and an unwelcome thrill runs through them.

“Stop,” Mhin hisses. “Just—just get to it.”

“Get to what?” Ais asks, marking them again under the first.

“Make me cum,” they snarl. “I don’t want to be romanced. Certainly not by you.”

Ais huffs a little to himself. “If that’s what you want.”

So he starts to move down Mhin’s body, but he moves so slowly. Ais spends entirely too long studying them—circling the blush pink of their nipples, running his fingers down their chest to the divots between their ribs, framing their hips. A thought floats to Mhin's mind unbidden—that Ais is unused to such an abrupt approach, that sex with him is heavy on foreplay: soft kisses that grow sloppy, wandering hands. Mhin grimaces. Focus. Or— don’t focus. Whatever gets them to stop thinking about fucking Ais in a less medical capacity.

At least he’s listening to Mhin now. When he’s low enough on their body to be level with their cunt, they get only the warning of a tongue swipe before Ais takes their cock into his mouth.

A yelp surges up in Mhin’s throat, one that they strangle back down into their chest. Their fingernails dig into their palms, and they force a shuddery inhale. They’re not used to such direct stimulation—it’s intense, almost to a point of pain. But maybe this is what they need, what will finally bring them off. Ais hums, digging his fingers into the meat of Mhin’s thighs, and Mhin makes the mistake of looking down.

His hand, with its thick, raised veins and silver rings, spans nearly the entirety of their thigh. Their breath sticks in their throat seeing his face, half-buried in their pale mound. Eyes lidded, he pops off of their clit to drag the flat of his tongue over their slit, suck Mhin’s folds into his mouth, push his long tongue inside of them. Mhin knows in their soul that this image will haunt them in their late, lonely nights. They fix their eyes back on the ceiling, trying to get their breathing under control.

Ais is good. Mhin would never never tell him, but they probably don’t have to, not when their legs are trembling around his ears. But it's not enough to make Mhin come. Their cunt aches, and a realization seeps in through their haze: They need something inside of them, to snap the thread separating them from an orgasm. If this goes on for much longer, they might start begging, or something similarly mortifying.

“Your fingers,” Mhin grits out.

“Mm?” Ais’s eyes flutter open into a lazy stare as he lifts his mouth away from Mhin’s cunt, finally giving them a break. “What about them?”

Mhin can’t tell if Ais is being serious or not, frustratingly enough. ��Put them in me.”

“Bossy, aren’t you, dove?” But he slides two of his fingers—thicker and longer than Mhin’s, touching them in such an unfamiliar way—into their cunt alongside his tongue. He’s tickling some spot inside of Mhin that feels good, edges them toward their climax, but even with a Monster's mouth and hand shoved artlessly between their legs, they can't come.

Mhin huffs. “This isn’t working. Try something else.”

“Looks like it’s working to me,” Ais laughs, and the air of it runs cold and sharp over Mhin’s overheated wetness. He runs a nail over the underside of Mhin’s cock idly. “What kind of something else?”

Oh, Mhin can tell now: Ais is messing with them. He just wants to hear them say it, wants their admission laid out to him plainly. Mhin turns their head to the side, squeezes their eyes shut. “Just.”

“...yes?”

“J-just—give me your cock.”

“Hm. Maybe I’ll get something out of this, after all,” Ais says, and they can hear the wolfish grin in his tone. Mhin doesn’t dignify him with a response. If this is what it takes, then so be it. Mhin has never shied away from doing what needs to be done.

But instead of pouncing on them and plowing them with wild abandon as Mhin expects, Ais starts by folding Mhin's legs underneath them. The bed shifts as he joins them on it, and takes up the space between their legs, pulling their hips up onto his thighs. His grip on their waist is gentle, soft—like he's holding a bird in his hands. He must’ve already taken himself out of his pants: they can feel his edge of his hard, swollen cock brush against their own aroused self, and they shiver involuntarily, keeping their eyes shut tight. 

But nothing happens. Mhin peeks out of one eye to look down, and quickly looks away. His cock looks huge, wedged into the crease of their thigh: something they should’ve expected of a Monster, especially one Ais’s size. “What are you waiting for?”

“S'this hurt?” he asks.

Mhin groans impatiently. “Why do you care?” they mutter, mostly to themself. Still, Mhin takes stock of their position: knees at Ais’s waist, thighs pressed against their calves, back against the mattress. “I’m fine,” they reply. It’s only barely, but they’re flexible enough to stay in this position comfortably. “Do it already.” 

Ais hums. His hands slide down to grab Mhin’s ass as he repositions them both, and then he drags Mhin back up onto his lap and—

Mhin’s thoughts rattle to a halt as they feel Ais start to enter them. If they thought his cock looked big, it feels enormous inside of them. They aren’t even sure it’ll all fit inside. And when he forces himself in further, the drag sending sparks low in Mhin’s stomach, they become more sure—it won’t fit. Their teeth grind together and their thighs tremble as Ais bullies the thickness of his cock into them steadily, stretching their cunt too wide to be totally comfortable. Still he keeps going further, deeper, until the head of his cock is prodding at their cervix. Mhin doesn’t even know if it’s painful or pleasurable, it’s just so— overwhelming—

They gasp, the only breath they’ve taken in a minute, and a shudder runs through their body, from head to toe. A flood of their own fluids gush out of them as they tighten hard around Ais’s cock and then collapse into the bed, limp and panting.

“Did you come from that?” Ais snorts. “Just from me going in?”

“Shut up,” Mhin hisses, flushing. “And let go of me.” They move to slap his hands away from their body, but the soft rope they’ve been tied with keeps them from getting anywhere close. “I... I've been— satisfied. We’re done here.”

“Are we?” Ais pulls his hips back, and it’s awful because it’s easier, now that Mhin's come. There’s less pain; more deep, twisting pleasure. “I don't think we are done.”

Though they feel like gelatin, Mhin tries to pull out of their wrist restraints, futilely attempts to release their legs from where Ais is holding them in their folded position against the mattress. No use of their hands or feet, and stuck on the cock of a Monster: It has been a long time since Mhin has made a miscalculation this egregious.

In, and out, Ais starts to fuck them, and Mhin throws their head back, trying not to scream. Their eyes roll back in their head—they’re so sensitive, their body betraying them, shaking while their cock throbs and their cunt squeezes and squeezes around the giant cock it’s drooling around. Little noises start to bubble out of them in hiccups—they aren’t even allowed the dignity of clapping their hands over their mouth.

“Sounds like you’ve forgotten how to sing, dove,” Ais taunts. “Need my help remembering?”

He doesn’t keep to any real rhythm, nothing that could lull Mhin into a more easy type of pleasure: of course he doesn’t. The only thing he does consistently is jab at and drag over and drive into a spot inside of Mhin that makes them sob, their teeth wrenched from their near-bleeding lip. And once their mouth opens, it’s impossible to close again. They choke on their breath when Ais pistons his cock into them; they whine and gasp and thrash and cum again when he takes his time with them, fucking them leisurely, the heel of one palm against Mhin’s lower stomach so he can feel himself through their skin and fat and muscle.

“Don’t know if I should come inside,” Ais says conversationally, after thoroughly humiliating Mhin. His voice is low, but they hear his words too clearly under their own damned noises. “Vere’ll be able to smell it on you. He won’t be happy about it.”

“Do not come inside of me,” Mhin spits with the little breath they have.

“He’ll prob’ly be really mad,” Ais continues, as if he hadn’t heard Mhin at all. Honestly, they wonder if he can—the wet slaps of their coupling and their own pathetic whimpering echoing loud in their own ears. “It’s been a while since he was that angry with me. I kinda miss it.”

Apparently that's enough for Ais to make his mind up: the bad humor of a Monster Mhin absolutely loathes. Ais sighs, and Mhin feels it—the hotness of his cum, burning up their insides. If they didn’t know any better they’d say they’d been cursed; as soon as Ais pulls out of them, their energy drains from them, too.

They catch their breath—or, try to, as Ais runs one of his fingers through the mess dripping out of them, jerks Mhin's overused clit with his sticky fingers just to add insult to injury. “How’s that feel? Better?” Ais asks, sticking his wet fingers in his mouth. Mhin cringes inwardly.

“Fuck you,” Mhin spits. “Untie me, now, or I swear I'll—”

“Don't make any promises you can't keep, dove,” Ais grins. He unfolds their legs, and they grunt at the violent prickling that overtakes both limbs with the return of blood flow. Ais sets one leg back on the bed, and kisses the foot of the other before dropping it. With their legs totally numb, they can’t even kick him in the nose for that.

Mhin watches, their escape attempts becoming more frantic, as Ais puts on the few articles he shed and prepares to leave.

“Ais! Let me out!” they growl.

“So you can try to kill me?” Ais rolls his head from side to side like he’s thinking about it. “Mm, no. Sounds like a hassle. But you can try the next time we run into each other, as long as you won’t make it easy.” He steps out of the room with a wave and no backward glance. “See you around, dove,” he calls, and the door of Mhin’s bedroom shuts behind him.

It takes hours for Mhin to regain the strength to attempt to free themself, and even longer to actually untie the bonds at their hands with their feet. As they do, they imagine how they are going to torture Ais for this transgression. Flaying him alive, bleeding him to death, castrating him. However the method, Mhin thinks, as they pull their clothes back on and rub the angry red indents around their wrists, they’ll make sure that Ais’s punishment is slow and painful before they wipe him off the earth for good.

Thank you for reading this far! Please like it and reblog it and such if you enjoyed ❤️

[sugarwarachan]

touchstarved!shigaraki who doesn’t understand the yearning in his body when you sit next to him, this strange pull to close the distance

touchstarved!shigaraki who is still deeply, deeply terrified convinced that nothing good can come from touching him, so avoids touching you altogether

touchstarved!shigaraki who finally caves when you tell him he’s too fucking tense - “if rolling out the knots in my neck gets you to leave me the fuck alone -” (this idiot)

touchstarved!shigaraki who nearly cums in his pants when you tell him to lay on his belly, his nose in the sheets of your bed. you straddle his hips and he has to bite down on your pretty sheets to keep himself from moaning out loud

touchstarved!shigaraki who doesn’t realize he’s grinding his cock into your mattress as your fingers gently unlock the tension in his shoulders

touchstarved!shigaraki who cums the minute your fingernails scratch against his scalp, that slight zip of pain coupled with your tender touch making him see stars - “fuck fuck fuck it feels so good, don't you dare fucking stop”

touchstarved!shigaraki who becomes a whining, shuddering mess every time you get your hands on him

[fangdokja]

🔞He says it’s love, but the scars on your skin tell a different story.

❤︎ Synopsis. Trapped in his obsession, your brother’s love is a cage—burning, possessive, and unyielding. Every kiss is a claim, every touch a warning. You’re his, and he’ll make sure the world knows it.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Older Brother x Fem. Reader

♡ Novelette. Sins of the Silent Heart - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 8,010

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, incest, non-con, rape, overstimulation, isolation, kidnapping, confinement, forced marking, dacryphilia, bondage, sexual punishments, BDSM, sadism, unhealthy power dynamics, loss of virginity, toxic relationship, spanking, emotional and psychological manipulation, social isolation, physical assault and abuse, sexual violence, knife play, blood play, permanent injury, choking / breath play

The room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn tightly to keep the prying eyes of the world at bay. You struggle against his ironclad grasp, but he's too strong.

He shoves you onto the bed with a force that steals your breath, pinning your arms above your head with one hand while the other clamps over your mouth, muffling your screams. "Shh," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

"You're only making this harder for yourself. You need to understand." His eyes bore into yours, searching for something—fear, submission, perhaps even love. But all you feel is a cold dread unfurling in your stomach, a horror that threatens to consume you whole.

Your brother's grip on your face tightens, his thumb digging into your cheek as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours.

"You're mine," he repeats, the words a chant that seems to fuel his rage. His other hand begins to roam, skimming over your body in a way that makes you feel violated and disgusting. You try to kick, to fight, but he's everywhere, his weight pressing down on you like a mountain.

"You think you can just go out there and give yourself to someone else?" he snarls, his eyes wild with jealousy. "You're too good for them. You're too good for anyone but me."

His hand slides down to your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise. Panic sets in as you realize the full extent of his intentions, your eyes widening in horror.

You manage to break free from his hand over your mouth, gasping for air. "No, please, stop," you plead, your voice shaky with fear and desperation.

"I'm your sister! Please don't do this!" But your words only seem to fuel his rage further, his grip on your wrists tightening until you think your bones might snap.

"Your mouth will be the only thing that's used for speaking my language tonight," he sneers, his free hand ripping at the fabric of your shirt, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. The sound of buttons popping off and fabric tearing fills the room, echoing your own silent screams.

You feel a warm wetness between your legs, not from desire but from fear and the humiliation of knowing what's about to happen. "You're going to learn your place," he murmurs, his voice low and menacing as he straddles you, his weight pinning you to the bed.

You writhe beneath him, trying to find an inch of space, any way to escape, but his body is like a vice, trapping you in this twisted nightmare. He reaches for your pants, his hand fumbling with the button before he yanks them down with a rough jerk, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

"You're going to love me," he says, his voice a twisted mix of anger and lust.

"You're going to forget all about those other boys. They're nothing compared to me." His words are a knife to your heart, each syllable twisting the blade deeper.

Tears stream down your face as he pulls his own pants down, his erection straining against his boxers. You can feel his breath on your neck, his chest pressing against yours, his arousal against your thigh.

The room feels like it's spinning, the walls closing in around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of the monster above you, but his touch is everywhere, invasive and repulsive.

He pulls your panties to the side with a cruel efficiency, and you can't help but sob out loud. "Please, brother, no," you whimper, but your words fall on deaf ears.

He leans in, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispers, "You're going to scream my name. You're going to beg for more."

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pushing your head down into the pillow, the fabric smothering your cries. You feel his hand move away from your face and grip the base of his cock, guiding it towards your entrance.

The feeling of his bare skin against yours is a violation so profound, it feels like your soul is being torn apart. The tip of his cock nudges against your folds, and you tense up, trying to resist, but your body is too overwhelmed with fear to do much more than shiver.

With a grunt of effort, he pushes inside you, the pain tearing through you like a bolt of lightning.

You scream into the pillow, your nails digging into the mattress as he starts to thrust, each movement a brutal reminder of his dominance.

You can feel the fabric of your ruined panties wedged between your thighs, a sadistic reminder of your innocence lost. His rhythm is punishing, his hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that sends shockwaves through your body. You try to hold back the tears, to hide your pain, but they come anyway, soaking the pillow beneath your face.

He drives through your hymen without mercy, the fabric of your innocence ripping away as he claims you as his own. The pain is unlike anything you've ever felt before—sharp, searing, and unrelenting.

Your eyes fly open, and you scream into the pillow, your body arching off the bed as he buries himself deep within you. The sensation is a mix of agony and unwanted fullness, a violation that sets every nerve ending on fire.

His grip on your neck tightens, and you can feel his cock pulsing inside you, thick and demanding. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a harsh whisper.

You force your eyes to meet his, and what you see there is a twisted mix of satisfaction and rage. He watches you, his pupils dilated with lust, as he continues to fuck you without care for your pain.

"Say it," he hisses, his hips grinding against yours in a punishing rhythm. "Say you're mine."

Your throat is raw from screaming, but you manage to croak out the words he wants to hear. "I'm yours," you whisper, your voice a broken echo of the defiance that once burned within you.

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you know it's what he needs to hear.

His eyes flash with triumph, and he releases your neck, allowing you to gulp in a desperate breath. "That's my girl," he says, his voice a sick parody of affection as he starts to move faster.

You feel his hand snake around your throat again, squeezing gently before sliding up to cradle your face. "I'll always take care of you," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he pushes deeper into you, each stroke a declaration of his ownership.

You whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to focus on anything but the pain. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your muffled cries and his grunts of pleasure.

He's so deep inside you that it feels like he's touching your very soul, and you can't help but wonder if there's any part of you that will ever be yours again. You want to fight, to scream, to push him away, but your body feels like it's made of lead, heavy and unresponsive to your will.

He leans down, his mouth crushing against yours in a kiss that's more claim than affection. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, and you taste the salt of your own tears.

You try to pull away, to bite him, to do anything that will make him stop, but he only grinds against you harder, his hand on the back of your head keeping you in place. "You're mine," he says against your lips, the words a dark benediction that sends a shiver of revulsion through your body.

Your eyes flutter open, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the dresser. Your face is a mascara-stained mess, your hair a tangled halo around your head, and your body is a canvas of bruises already beginning to blossom.

The sight only seems to excite him more, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he watches your reflection, his eyes glinting with a malicious pleasure. You feel yourself start to detach, floating above the scene like a ghost, watching as your body is used and discarded by the person who's supposed to love you the most.

"Please," you manage to gasp out, the word a pathetic plea that hangs in the air, unheeded. "It hurts."

But he either doesn't hear you or doesn't care, his hips pumping faster, his breathing growing ragged.

The pain becomes a living entity, a monster that consumes you from the inside out, reducing you to a trembling wreck beneath him.

He shifts his weight, his hand moving from your face to your hip, his fingers digging in as he pulls you closer to him. "You're so damn tight," he groans, his voice thick with lust. "You were made for me."

His thumb slides between your thighs, finding the bundle of nerves that had once brought you pleasure, and you feel a spark of hope—maybe if you can just make him finish, it will all be over.

But his touch is rough, almost punishing, and any hint of pleasure is drowned out by the agony of his invasion.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming as he continues to thrust, his movements becoming more frenzied with each passing moment. "You're going to come for me," he says, his voice a mix of demand and question.

"You're going to come and show me how much you want this." You feel his thumb circle your clit, pressing down hard as he continues to fuck you, his other hand squeezing your hip so tightly that it feels like he's trying to leave a permanent imprint of his fingers on your skin.

The pain and the pleasure meld together into something twisted and unrecognizable, and you can't help but whimper as your body starts to respond despite your mind's screaming protests.

His eyes never leave yours, watching your every reaction, feeding off your fear and pain like it's his lifeblood. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. "Show me how much you need me."

And you do—your body betrays you, arching up to meet his touch, your walls tightening around his cock as the beginnings of an orgasm build against your will.

You want to hate him for reducing you to this, for making you feel like a whore, but the pleasure is too intense to fight.

With a final, brutal thrust, he releases your hip, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand, his other hand still working you into a frenzy. "You're mine," he says again, his voice a hoarse growl.

"Say it. Scream it." And as if on cue, your body shatters, your orgasm ripping through you like a tempest, stealing your voice along with your dignity. The only sound that escapes you is a strangled cry, a sound that's half-pain, half-pleasure.

His eyes widen with triumph as he feels your body clench around him, his grip on your wrists tightening as he starts to come, filling you with his seed. The feeling of his release only adds to the horror, his hot cum a declaration of his claim on your body.

You lay there, trembling and sobbing, as he collapses on top of you, his chest heaving with exertion. For a moment, the room is silent except for your ragged breaths and his own, his weight a suffocating presence that makes it difficult to draw in air.

As the fog of pleasure fades, the reality of what's happened crashes down on you like a tidal wave of despair. You feel soiled, used, and utterly broken. Your eyes fill with fresh tears, and you struggle to find the strength to push him off.

But he's still inside you, his cock now limp but still a violation of the most intimate kind. "Don't," he says, his voice suddenly gentle as he rolls off you and pulls you into his arms.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore." His touch is tender, almost loving, but it's tainted by the knowledge of what he's just done.

You can't bring yourself to look at him, your face buried in his chest, your body shaking with sobs. He strokes your hair, whispering sweet nothings that only serve to make you feel more disgusted.

"It's okay," he says, his voice soothing despite the horror of his actions. "You're safe with me. No one will ever hurt you again."

His words are a mockery of comfort, a twisted parody of the brotherly love you once knew.

You want to scream, to push him away, but all you can do is cry.

He gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Look at me," he says, his voice a soft command.

"I'm not going to let anyone else have you. You're mine. You always have been." His eyes searched yours, looking for some sign of understanding, some spark of the love he believed you owed him.

But all you see is the monster he's become, the predator that's stolen your childhood trust in him.

"I know you didn't mean to," he continues, his tone earnest. "But you can't leave me. You can't love anyone else. Do you understand?"

You nod, the tears still streaming down your face, the taste of defeat coating your mouth like bile. "Y-yes," you manage to whisper, the words barely audible. "I understand."

It's not what he wants to hear, not the declaration of love he craves, but it's all you can give.

For now.

────────────

The weekend stretches before you, a prison of his twisted love and dominance. Each moment is a silent scream of agony and degradation, as your brother takes you again and again.

The bedroom, the kitchen table, the living room couch—every corner of your shared home becomes a battleground for his obsession.

He fucks you in every position imaginable, his hunger insatiable, his need to claim you complete.

You feel like a ragdoll in his hands, used and abused at his whim, your body a canvas for his depravity.

────────────

On the first night, he ties your wrists to the bedposts with the usual belt he uses to punish you, spreading your legs wide as he looms above you. "You're going to take it all," he says, his voice a dark promise.

"Every inch of me, until you're screaming my name." He pushes into you, his cock thick and unforgiving, and you bite back a whimper, your eyes squeezed shut.

He's gentle at first, almost loving, but as the night wears on, his strokes become more forceful, his grip on your hips tightening.

You're too tired to fight, too broken to resist. When he finally releases you from your bonds, you collapse onto the bed, your limbs trembling from the exertion.

────────────

The next day, he takes you into the shower, the water a scalding caress against your bruised skin. He soaps you up with a tenderness that feels like a slap in the face after what he's done. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a low growl.

You do, unable to meet his gaze, focusing instead on the water cascading down your breasts. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Say you love me."

The words stick in your throat, a lie that feels like acid. But you whisper them anyway, because it's what he needs to hear, because you're too scared not to.

────────────

In the kitchen, he bends you over the counter, your hands gripping the edge to keep from collapsing. You can hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the jingle of his belt loops echoing through the room. "You're going to learn to crave this," he says, his voice a harsh promise.

You feel the head of his cock against you, and your body tenses, bracing for the pain. "You're going to want me more than anyone else."

His hands are everywhere, pushing into your hips, squeezing your breasts, his thumb circling your clit.

You hate the way your body responds, the way your pussy clenches around him, begging for more even as you silently pray for it to end.

He enters you from behind, his hands on your hips as he pulls you back onto him. You grit your teeth against the pain, your knuckles turning white as you hold onto the counter for dear life.

He's deep inside you, his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars, and you can't help but moan despite the fear choking you.

"That's it," he says, his voice thick with pleasure. "You like it, don't you?" You bite your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer, your eyes squeezed shut as you focus on the kitchen tiles beneath your feet.

But the orgasm builds, unwanted and unstoppable, stealing your voice as it rips through you, leaving you trembling and sobbing.

────────────

Later, in the living room, you're forced to straddle him on the couch, his cock buried inside you as he watches TV. His hands are on your hips, guiding your movements, his eyes flicking from the screen to your face, watching you with a perverse fascination.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a stark contrast to the horror of his actions.

You want to scream, to tell him to stop, but the words won't come. Instead, you stare blankly at the TV, trying to lose yourself in the flickering images, trying to forget the reality of your situation.

────────────

On the second night, he takes you to the floor in the hallway, pushing you onto your knees. "You're going to suck me off," he says, his voice cold and demanding. "And you're going to swallow every drop."

You hesitate, your throat tight with fear, but his hand wraps around the back of your head, pushing you closer to his erection.

"Do it," he growls, and you have no choice but to comply, your mouth opening to take him in.

You can taste the salt and the bitterness of his lust, and you want to gag, but you force yourself to swallow, to keep going until he's satisfied.

When he finally comes, you feel his hot cum spurt down your throat, and you have to fight not to throw up.

He pulls out, his hand releasing your head as he watches you, his eyes filled with a perverse satisfaction. "Good girl," he says, his voice a taunting whisper.

You crawl away from him, your body trembling, your dignity shattered beyond repair. You can't believe this is your life now, that you're nothing more than a toy for his sick games.

────────────

On the final day of the weekend, you're lying on the floor of his room, your body bruised and sore from his relentless attention. He's sitting on the bed, watching you with a strange mix of love and possession.

"Look at you," he says, his voice almost gentle. "So beautiful, even when you're broken."

You force yourself to meet his gaze, searching for any hint of remorse, any shred of the brother you once knew. But all you find is a monster, a creature consumed by his own desires.

He stands up, walking over to you with a predatory grace that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's time to go back to your room," he says, his voice a command.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, as he helps you to your feet. The room spins around you, the pain making it difficult to stand.

"You're mine," he whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your neck. "Always remember that." He gives you a final, bruising kiss before releasing you, his eyes never leaving your face.

You stumble back to your room, feeling his gaze on your back like a physical weight.

The door closes behind you, the soft click echoing in your ears. You collapse onto the bed, your body a mass of pain and despair.

You can't believe what's happening, can't believe that the person you trusted the most has become your worst nightmare.

But even as you cry into your pillow, a part of you knows that this is only the beginning.

────────────

Days turn into weeks, and the abuse continues. You try to find ways to resist, to fight back, but his control over you is absolute.

He's always watching, always waiting for the slightest sign of disobedience. You start to feel like you're going mad, trapped in a cycle of fear and pain that never ends.

But you keep the secret, hiding your bruises beneath layers of clothing, smiling when you know he's watching.

────────────

One evening, as you're serving dinner, a knock at the door pierces the tension that's become a constant in your home.

It's a friend from school, someone who's been worried about you since you stopped hanging out. You can see the concern in his eyes as he asks about your well-being.

Your brother's grip on your wrist tightens, a silent warning not to say a word. "She's just been busy," he says, his voice too cheerful. "Aren't you, little sister?"

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've had a lot of... stuff to do."

The friend's gaze lingers on you, searching for the truth behind the forced smile. "Well, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me," he says, before finally turning to leave. The door closes, and the room feels smaller, suffocating.

He pulls you closer, his grip painfully tight. "You're mine," he says, his voice a low growl. "You don't need anyone else."

His eyes bore into yours, demanding assurance, and you nod, the lie rolling off your tongue like a well-rehearsed script.

"Yes," you murmur, "I know."

────────────

As the days go by, the lines between fear and obedience blur. You learn to anticipate his moods, his needs, his desires.

You become an expert at hiding your own emotions, burying your pain beneath a mask of submission. You go through the motions, cooking, cleaning, smiling when he enters the room.

But inside, you're screaming, a caged animal waiting for an escape that never comes.

One day, you're in the kitchen, your hands shaking as you prep dinner. The knife slips, slicing your finger, and blood wells up, a stark crimson against the pale flesh.

He's there in an instant, his eyes flickering with concern before they darken. "Careful," he says, his voice a low warning.

"You're too clumsy for your own good." He takes your hand, leading you to the sink to clean the wound.

But instead of the gentleness you expect, his grip turns cruel, his fingers pressing into your palm until you wince.

"You're going to be more careful," he says, his voice cold. "You're too precious to be ruined by something as stupid as an accident."

You nod, your heart racing as you watch the blood swirl down the drain. "I'll be more careful," you whisper, the words feeling like a noose around your neck.

He releases your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Good," he says, his voice softening slightly. "I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

But the way he says it, you know he's not just talking about accidents.

He's talking about you leaving, about you telling someone. The fear is a living thing inside you, a creature that feeds on your hope.

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "Do you want me to kiss it better?" You can feel his arousal pressing against your side, his desire for you a constant, unyielding force.

You nod again, because what else can you do? He takes your injured finger into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the cut, the sensation surprisingly gentle.

The room spins around you, the line between love and hate blurring until you can't tell the difference.

His eyes never leave yours, his gaze holding you captive as his mouth works its magic. When he pulls away, you're left gasping for air, your body a battleground of emotions.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask, your voice shaking. "Why are you doing this?"

He looks at you, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. "Because I love you," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Because you're mine, and no one else can have you."

You pull away, your heart racing. "But we're siblings," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't right."

He sighs, his grip on your hand tightening. "Don't say that," he says, his voice a low warning. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive, the only one who truly understands me. I'm going to marry you, make it official. No one can ever take that away from us."

His eyes are wild, desperate, and for a moment, you see the little boy who protected you from the monsters under the bed.

But the monster is him now, and there's no escape.

You nod, your voice trembling. "Okay," you say, the word sticking in your throat. "I'll be yours."

It's a hollow promise, but it's what he needs to hear.

His smile is like the sun coming out from behind a storm cloud, lighting up the room and your heart despite the fear.

That night, he takes you gently, as if you're made of glass. His touches are softer, his kisses more tender.

But the pain is still there, a constant reminder of the power he holds over you. You lay there, your body bruised and used, your mind racing with thoughts of escape, of telling someone.

But every time you open your mouth to speak, the fear clamps down, silencing you.

────────────

As the weeks turn into months, the abuse becomes a twisted routine.

You find yourself craving the moments of tenderness he offers, the fleeting moments when he's not a monster, but the brother you once knew.

His love feels like a drug, an addiction that you can't shake, no matter how hard you try.

And he's always there, watching, waiting, making sure you know you're his.

One evening, as you lay in his arms, the room lit by the flickering TV, you feel something shift inside you. You've been playing along, pretending to be the obedient little sister and wife he wants, but the weight of the lie is crushing you.

You look up at him, his eyes closed in contentment, and for the first time, you feel something other than fear.

It's anger, burning hot and pure, a fire that's been smoldering deep within you. "I can't do this anymore," you say, your voice shaking with the force of your emotions.

He opens his eyes, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "What do you mean?" he asks, his hand stroking your hair.

You sit up, pulling away from him. The words come out in a rush, the dam of your fear and anger finally breaking. "This isn't love, it's not normal. You can't just take what you want from me."

You can see the hurt in his eyes, but it's mixed with something else—a hint of anger.

"What do you know about love?" he snaps, his grip on your arm tightening.

"You're just a kid, playing games you don't understand." His voice is low, dangerous.

"You're mine, and you always will be. You don't get to decide who loves you, or how."

You try to pull away, but his hand is a vice, his nails digging into your skin. "Let go of me," you say, your voice trembling.

But he doesn't.

He pulls you closer, his eyes searching yours, looking for the submission he craves.

"You don't get it," he says, his voice a harsh whisper. "You're all I've ever had. You're all I've ever needed. And now that I have you, I won't let anyone else touch you."

His grip tightens, and you know he's not just talking about love anymore. He's talking about possession, about control.

You try to fight back, to push him away, but he's too strong. "Please," you whimper, the word a pitiful sound in the quiet room.

But it's not enough.

He's already decided what you are to him, and he won't be swayed.

He yanks you closer, his breath hot and sour in your face. "You're going to learn," he says, his voice a snarl. "You're going to learn to love me, to want this."

His hand moves down your body, cupping your breast roughly, his thumb flicking over your nipple. You flinch, the pain mixing with the fear and anger. "Look at me," he demands, his eyes boring into yours.

"Tell me you want it."

You can't find the words. You can't bring yourself to lie to him, not when you're so close to breaking free of this psychological cage of hoping he'd change.

Instead, you look away, your eyes filling with tears. "I can't," you murmur, your voice barely audible.

The anger in his eyes flickers, and for a moment, you think he might hit you again. But instead, he sighs, his expression softening slightly.

"You will," he says, his voice a promise and a threat. "You just need time." He releases your arm, his hand moving to gently wipe the tears from your cheek.

"But for now, you're mine. You're going to stay here, with me."

────────────

But, that doesn't mean he's not vengeful.

Your older brother drags you down the stairs to the basement, his grip unyielding. The cold concrete floor hits your bare feet, sending shivers up your spine. You struggle, your body protesting, but his strength is too much.

He throws you into a dank, dimly lit corner, the scent of mold and dust thick in the air.

Ropes coil around your wrists and ankles, securing you to a rusty pipe that runs along the wall. You whimper as the metal digs into your skin, leaving a trail of cold, metallic pain.

"Why are you doing this?" you manage to ask through clenched teeth, the reality of your new prison setting in.

He paces the floor, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and disappointment. "Because you need to learn," he says, his voice echoing in the confined space.

"You need to understand that you can't just decide to stop loving me."

You stare at him in disbelief, the ropes biting into your skin as you try to pull away from the pipe. "This isn't love," you spit out, your voice raw with emotion. "What you're doing to me is sick."

He stops pacing, his gaze meeting yours with a cold intensity. "You think I don't know that?" he snaps.

"But it's all I know. It's all we have." He strides over to you, crouching down so he's level with your bound form.

"You're going to stay here, and think about what you've done." His hand comes up to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

"And when you're ready to tell me the truth, when you're ready to love me the way you should, I'll be upstairs."

You feel bile rise in your throat at his touch, his words a twisted echo of the love you once knew. "I can't," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Please, just let me go."

He sighs, his expression a mix of frustration and something else—something that looks almost like regret.

"You don't get it," he murmurs, his hand dropping away. "This is for your own good." He stands, walking towards the stairs.

"You're going to thank me one day, when you realize what I've saved you from."

You watch as he ascends, the door at the top of the stairs slamming shut with a finality that makes your heart sink. The darkness of the basement envelops you, the silence deafening.

You try to scream, to call for help, but your voice is hoarse from the weekend's screams. You're alone, trapped in the cold embrace of the concrete walls.

────────────

Days crawl by, each one a blur of pain and despair. He comes down to check on you, bringing you water and the bare minimum of food to keep you alive.

He doesn't touch you, doesn't speak of love. His eyes are hard, his expression unreadable.

But the silence is worse than the abuse—it's a constant reminder of the distance he's put between you. You beg, you plead, you scream, but he just watches with a detached air, as if you're nothing more than a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

On the third day, he finally speaks. "You've had your time to think," he says, his voice cold and unyielding.

"Now it's time for your next lesson." He crosses the room, his boots echoing on the hard floor.

You shrink back against the wall, your heart racing.

You're not ready for this, not ready to face the monster again.

But there's no escape, not here in the dark.

He unbinds one of your wrists, pulling you to your feet. You stumble, your legs wobbly from days of disuse. He leads you over to a dusty old chair in the center of the room, the legs scraping against the floor with an eerie sound.

"Sit," he commands, his voice devoid of warmth.

You do as you're told, the chair creaking beneath your weight, as he restrains your arms and ankles to the chair. He then stands in front of you, his eyes raking over your body with a hunger that makes your skin crawl.

"You're going to tell me you love me," he says, his voice low and menacing. "You're going to mean it, or you're going to regret it."

You shake your head, the words caught in your throat. "I can't," you choke out. "I'll never love you like that."

His expression darkens, and for a moment, you think he's going to hit you again. But instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife, the silver glinting in the dim light.

"You will," he says, his voice a promise. "I'll make sure of it." He flicks open the blade with a metallic snap, the sound echoing in the basement.

You try to jerk away, but the ropes around your ankles keep you in place, the chair digging into your back. "What are you going to do?" you ask, the fear in your voice clear.

He steps closer, the knife glinting in his hand. "I'm going to show you what happens when you deny me," he says, his voice a low growl.

"You're mine, and you will say it." His hand moves to your chest, pressing the cold steel against your skin just above your heart.

The threat is unmistakable.

You swallow hard, the fear thick in your throat. "I can't," you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. "Please, don't make me."

He sighs, his expression shifting from anger to something almost pitying. "You're so damn stubborn," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the blade's path along your collarbone.

"But I'll break you. I'll make you love me." He leans in, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a kiss to your neck, just below your ear.

You shiver, trying to keep your revulsion from showing. "I'm sorry," you whisper, the words feeling like acid on your tongue.

"I love you." It's the first time you've said it, and you hate the way it feels—like a betrayal to every part of yourself that's been violated by his hands.

He pulls away, his eyes searching yours, looking for the truth he so desperately needs to see. You force a smile, hoping it's convincing enough. "I love you," you repeat, the words a little easier this time.

For a moment, you see a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but it's quickly replaced with satisfaction. "Good," he says, his voice soothing now.

"Very good." He reaches down, his hand brushing against the ropes that bind you to the chair.

"Now, let's see how much you mean it." He traces the knife along the fabric of your shirt, the cold metal sending shivers down your spine.

With one swift motion, he slices through the material, exposing your bra. The knife lingers for a moment before he cuts the clasp, the cups falling away to reveal your breasts. He cups one in his hand, his thumb circling your nipple.

You can't help the gasp that escapes your lips as he pinches it, the pain mixing with a twisted form of arousal that makes you feel dirty and disgusted with yourself.

"Look at how beautiful you are," he says, his voice a hypnotic purr. "So perfect for me." His other hand moves to the fly of his pants, the knife still in his grip. He opens them, freeing his erection, which stands tall and demanding.

You feel a fresh wave of dread as he steps closer, the knife still hovering near your skin.

"Now, tell me you want me," he commands, his eyes dark with lust. The blade presses harder against your flesh, the sting of it making you flinch.

You look away, unable to meet his gaze. "I want you," you murmur, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. You feel his hand tighten around your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple until it's hard and sensitive.

"Please," you add, hoping it's enough to satisfy his twisted desires.

He seems to consider your words, the knife pressing into your skin just enough to make you whimper. Then, with a smirk, he pulls away.

"Good girl," he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now, let's make it official." He grabs the knife again, this time bringing it to the waistband of your pants. With a quick jerk, he slices through the fabric, exposing you completely.

You struggle, trying to pull away from his touch, but he's too strong. He forces you to remain still, his hand moving down to cup your sex, his thumb stroking your clit with a brutal gentleness that makes you squirm.

"You're going to tell me you're mine," he says, his eyes boring into yours. "You're going to scream it."

You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I'm yours," you murmur, the words a defeated whisper.

He smiles, his grip on the knife loosening slightly. "That's my girl," he says, his voice a sickening blend of affection and triumph. He steps closer, the knife now tracing patterns on your exposed thigh, sending shivers of fear and anticipation through your body. You can feel his erection pressing against your leg, hot and insistent.

Without warning, he slams the knife into the chair, the blade sinking deep into the wooden frame. You flinch, your heart racing as you realize how close you just came to being sliced open. He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Now, tell me," he says, his voice a demand.

"Tell me you're mine, and mean it." He repeats.

You stare into his eyes, the fear and disgust warring within you. But the knife, still lodged in the chair so close to your body, is a stark reminder of his power. "I'm yours," you murmur, the words barely audible.

His smile widens, and he leans in to kiss you, his breath hot and sour. You force yourself to remain still, to accept it, to survive. His hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, his other hand still playing with your body.

You can feel the wetness between your legs, and you hate yourself for it—hate that your body can betray you like this.

He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes gleaming with triumph. You're panting, your heart racing from fear and the unwanted arousal his touch brings.

He takes the knife from the chair, the wood protesting as it's yanked free, and you can't help but feel a pang of relief that it's no longer a threat to your skin. But his gaze is on your thighs now, and you know that relief is short-lived.

"Look at me," he says, his voice low and commanding. You meet his eyes, trying to keep the fear and disgust from showing. "You're going to carry my mark," he continues, his tone matter-of-fact. "So you never forget who you belong to."

He grabs your chin, tilting your head back so you're forced to watch as he brings the knife closer to your skin. You flinch as the cold metal touches you, the tip hovering just above the delicate flesh of your inner thigh.

His hand is steady, his eyes never leaving yours as he traces the first letter of his name—a deep, painful groove that makes you try biting your lip to keep from screaming. The blood wells up, a crimson line against your pale skin.

But, it doesn't work.

The second you feel the searing pain of the knife digging deeply, your scream rips through the basement, echoing off the cold concrete walls.

He tightens his grip on your chin, forcing you to keep watching as he carves the next letter into your skin, the blood running down your thigh in a warm trickle. Your eyes are wide with shock and horror, your body sweating and shaking with pain and fear. He's methodical, taking his time with each stroke, his gaze never leaving yours.

The sound of your own cries is the only thing that breaks the silence, mixing with the wet, sickening sounds of the knife cutting into your flesh.

When he's done with the last letter, he pulls back, admiring his work with a twisted smile. "There," he says, his voice smug. "Now you're truly mine."

He reaches out to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his thumb coming away smeared with your blood. "You're beautiful, even when you're crying," he murmurs, his tone almost tender.

You can't help but flinch at his touch, the pain from the fresh wound making your stomach churn.

You look down, the sight of your own blood and his initials etched into your flesh making you feel like a piece of meat, marked and claimed. The pain is unbearable, and you can't stop the tears that stream down your face. "Please," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't do this to me. No more, please, I beg you."

He frowns, his expression one of disappointment. "You're supposed to be happy," he says, his voice tight.

"This is a declaration of love, not something to be feared." He grabs a rag from the floor, pressing it against the wound to stem the flow of blood.

"You need to learn to appreciate this, to cherish the bond we have." His tone is firm, brooking no argument.

You can't find the words to respond, your teeth chattering from the pain and the cold. You watch as he dresses himself, his movements deliberate and controlled.

He picks up the knife, wiping the blood off on the rag before slipping it back into his pocket. "I'll be back with something to clean you up," he says, his voice gentle, as if he's just finished giving you a present instead of violating you in the most horrific way.

He leaves you alone again, the door slamming shut like a tomb. The pain in your thigh is a constant reminder of his ownership, a brand that feels like it's burning into your soul.

You slump forward in the chair, the ropes digging into your skin, and sob into your knees. The basement is cold, the only warmth coming from the throbbing in your leg and the hot tears that fall onto the concrete floor.

────────────

When he returns, you're too tired to even look up. You feel him approach, his footsteps heavy on the stairs. He's carrying something, a first-aid kit maybe, but you don't care.

You're beyond caring.

He kneels in front of you, his hands surprisingly gentle as he takes the rag and replaces it with something cool and clean.

"Shh," he whispers, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheeks. "It's okay, it's okay."

The pain is overwhelming as he cleans the wound, the sting of antiseptic making you whimper.

You try to jerk away, but he holds you firm, his grip unyielding. "You have to let me take care of you," he says, his voice soft but firm.

"You're all mine, and I'll always take care of what's mine." He applies a bandage, his movements careful and precise, his eyes never leaving yours.

"It'll heal," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the bandage.

"But you'll always remember."

He stands up, his gaze lingering on your naked form. "I'll leave these off," he says, nodding to the ropes around your ankles. "But don't try to run. You're not going anywhere."

The door opens, and he steps back, giving you a view of the stairs leading up to freedom.

The temptation is almost too much to bear, but you know better than to try.

You nod, the reality of your situation sinking in deeper with every second.

He walks over to the stairs, his back to you. "You're going to stay here," he says without looking back.

"Think about what you've done to deserve this. Think about how much I love you."

The door closes again, and you're left alone with the echoes of his footsteps.

The ropes around your wrists cut into your skin, a constant reminder of his control. You try to tug them loose, but they're tight—too tight.

Your eyes drift to the bandages. Hiding the deep, scarring marks just right above your pussy, his initials branded onto you like your mere cattle.

You can't believe it—you can't believe he's done this to you.

But the pain in your thigh is all too real, a pulsing, raw ache that throbs with every beat of your heart.

You can feel the sticky warmth of blood seeping through the bandage, a grim reminder that you're not just his sister anymore.

────────────

List of Fandoms and Characters

Ace Attorney: N/A

Blue Lock: Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi, Yoichi Isagi

Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi

Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A

Death Note: N/A

Demon Slayer: Rui, Sanemi Shinazugawa

Dishonored Series: Kirin Jindosh

Genshin Impact: Ayato Kamisato, Childe / Tartaglia, Scaramouche

Haikyuu!!: Atsumu Miya, Hajime Iwaizumi, Kenjiro Shirabu, Suna Rintarou, Tobio Kageyama, Yūji Terushima, Ushijima Wakatoshi

Honkai Star Rail: Blade, Boothill

How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A

Hunter x Hunter: Chrollo Lucilfer

I'm Not That Kind of Talent: Demon Aru

Jujutsu Kaisen: Naoya Zenin, Suguru Geto

Kill The Hero: Se Jun-Lee

Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: Xavier

Naruto Shippuden: Kabuto Yakushi, Tobirama Senju

One Punch Man: Amai Mask

Reverend Insanity: Fang Yuan

TOUCHSTARVED: N/A

Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Dust! Sans / Murder! Sans

Wuthering Waves: Geshu Lin, Scar

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If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk-blog1

[vienssunshine]

It's Too Much

pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader nsfw: dom!reader, inexperienced!Choso, premature ejaculation word count: 1.5k author's note: this idea took third place in the poll, but i was extra inspired from a tiktok my friend sent me description: Choso has been touch-starved for so long that, when you touch him, it can be a lot, maybe even too much

Choso has never felt another's body against his own that wasn’t attempting to hurt him. For all 150 years he’s been alive up until he met you, physical contact meant pain. But now, he’s beginning to learn that that isn't completely true.

There are similarities between a touch of pain versus…pleasantness might be the word—he hasn’t sorted it out completely yet—as a feeling lingers after contact. A strike leaves an aching bruise, the afflicted area reminding him of the injury whenever the slightest pressure is applied, but when you place a gentle hand on Choso’s shoulder while speaking to him, it leaves behind something entirely different. 

The best way he can describe the initial feeling is as a warmth, and not just due to the intrinsic heat from where your flesh meets his, but one that swells in his chest and spreads out to the rest of his body. After you leave, your touch doesn’t require a mark on his skin or a painful sting like a bruise needs to be remembered, rather, the outline of where your fingers laid on his shoulder simmers on his skin for the rest of the day. 

You fluster him with your casual touches–placing your hand on his forearm or leaning your head on his shoulder–but it helps him work up the courage to start acting on his own desires to feel you. He appreciates how you let him take his time as he explores the little things, like the feeling of holding your hand, intertwining his roughened fingers with yours. He looks up to your face, making sure what he's doing is okay, and you give him a gentle smile, telling him he's doing great. There is that warmth in his chest again. He realizes he likes the feeling of you praising him—a lot. 

Soon, he starts asking for more: to cup your cheeks, pet your hair. One day, he asks to hold your body against his on the bed, feeling your softness and warmth while working hard to regulate the influx of emotions your proximity inspires. Yet, it gets the better of him and he asks something that’s been on his mind for a while: if he can kiss you.

You accept, of course, and with your lips so soft and sweet, things quickly develop, escalating to the point where you are on top of him, straddling his big legs, and kissing down his bare chest to his waistband. He tries to keep still, but your lips feel so good and his hips betray that, gently thrusting up and into you.

“S-sorry,” Choso says, “I…I can’t control it.”

You look up from his chest. “It’s okay, Choso,” you say as you drag your hands down his abs to his waistband, deepening the pink dusted upon his cheeks, “It seems like you want more.” 

“Mhmm,” Choso whimpers, watching as you tuck your fingertips into his waistband and pull it down, freeing his sensitive erection.

Your hands wrap around his length and his eyes flutter closed in bliss. Being touched there is a new sensation for Choso and it’s stirring up a feeling he hasn’t had much experience with.

He thinks it’s arousal, which is, according to Mahito, what causes humans to “fuck.” But Mahito always spoke about fucking in a negative light, describing it as disgusting, primal thing humans do. That perspective doesn't make sense to Choso anymore because whatever you are igniting in him, if it is that aroused feeling Mahito described, feels so good he thinks he would die if you stopped. 

“Do you like this, Choso?” you ask as you stroke him. Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips sends a shiver through Choso’s body. 

“I-I do,” he says, moaning when you pay special attention to his pink tip, stimulating the sensitive area with your fingers in a tight circle. He’s been unconsciously bucking his hips up into your fist, chasing more of this unfamiliar sensation that has pressure to build up in his stomach.

“Then, would you like it if I put it inside of me?” 

He hadn’t considered that as a possibility, already so pleasure-drunk from feeling your palm against him, but there’s no way he can refuse your offer. 

“Yes. Yes—fuck—please do that.”

“Alright, Choso,” you say, getting off of him, “You just sit still, okay?” 

His breathy whine tells you that the last thing he wants to do is sit still. You smile, he looks so cute when he’s desperate.

“Just a little bit longer,” you say, intentionally moving slower than necessary just to see how long the poor curse can hold out.

He watches as you pull down your underwear, and the second you remove it, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back on top of him. Then he’s pressing hot, sloppy kisses to your neck, devouring it like a man starved. His passion and intensity make up for his lack of experience, though you note he’s getting the hang of it.

Choso’s barrage of affection is halted by a surprised gasp when you grip his erection and align yourself with it. The hunger in your eyes reminds him of how out of his element he is, but he doesn’t let it scare him, rather, he lets it feed his desire of making you feel as good as he does. 

You hold the tip to your entrance and Choso’s breath hitches when he feels the wetness and warmth of your hole. Slowly, as to not overwhelm, you sink down on him, and he moans—sweet and unbridled—from the way your walls hug him. 

“I’ve—hah—never…felt something like this,” he says, eyes pressed closed, wrinkling the thin black mark running just underneath them. 

Your hands fall onto his built chest as you make it all the way down on him, driving the entirety of his long, slender dick deep within you. His hands fly to your hips when it happens, but then one grabs for your wrist on his chest, circling his fingers around it, needing you to help him through this new sensation. 

“Feels good?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“Feels s’good,” he says, “Too good.” He shifts around underneath you; the pressure he was feeling earlier when you were touching him is becoming inescapable, sweeping through his stomach like a vicious undercurrent. 

“I’m going to start moving now, 'kay?” you say. 

Choso nods but is woefully unprepared for when you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through your gummy walls. Your movements on top of the information already flooding his senses–your warm skin, rapid heartbeat, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming. His head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like your walls are milking him, intent on making the tightness in his core snap.

Choso knows it’s too much for him, but watching your eyes close in pleasure and your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, it makes him want to keep going, to not cum just yet. But with the sight of you naked on top of him and the way your insides are squeezing him, not cumming is a near impossible task. He wants to do a good job for you, to hear you tell him that, but he's sure he won’t last. 

“Fuck, I’m s-ah-sorry,” Choso whines, “I can’t…if you keep moving, I can’t-“ 

“You’re gonna cum already, Choso?” you ask, a wickedness in your voice, “You feel that good?”

You’re teasing him, despite how you find your view beyond erotic: he’s a squirming mess underneath you, with his eyebrows pressed together, face flushed with warmth, and fingers tight around your wrist as he just fights the urge to cum.

“Yes—ngh—you feel s’good, s’good-I’m sorry,”—you feel his cock twitch inside you—“I can’t, I’m sorry, m’gonna-“

He groans, thrusting his hips up into you with a force that requires you to grab onto him to stay put, and empties his load deep inside you, sweet moans interspersed with apologies.

You’d be more disappointed in him for not lasting long, but with this being his first time in a while, you’re willing to forgive—especially after being treated to his endless, pretty noises.

When he comes down, you press a kiss on his cheek, “Too much, Choso?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, you just felt so good,” he says in between pants. His poor body is shaking, his chest is heaving, and a pink flush burns all over his pale skin. 

“It’s okay,” you say, “I enjoyed that.” Only, you wish you had been able to cum, too. Seeing him writhe underneath you has your cunt aching for attention.

He sits up, and you feel his cock move inside you. “Still, I wanted to last for you.”

“Sweet boy,” you say, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his face, “You did great. I know it’s been a while since you’ve done anything like this.” 

He’s still pouting, but his frown turns into a smile when an idea hits him. He flips you over with ease—sometimes you forget how strong he is—and pulls out of you, keeping your legs open so he can bring his face down to your cunt, wetness mixed with his own cum seeping out of it. 

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Let me make it up to you, I haven’t gotten to feel you on my tongue yet.” 

[eternallyei]

smut, men x f!reader

Thinking about how weak he gets whenever he’s deep inside you. The red tint stuck to his cheeks under his tightly closed eyes while he’s rutting into your hips hungrily, eager to feel every inch of your insides.

He frowns forcefully, not even able to open his eyes to look at your pretty face under him, which, he knows very well, is staring up at him with a smile on your lips.

The feeling of your velvety and warm walls hugging his needy and sensitive cock, his arms shaking like weak leaves next to your ears each time his hips hit yours.

He pants, he chants next to your ear, he’s enchanted by the way your small hole envelopes his shaft, it feels so good after being so untouched for so long.

He missed you so much, work was taking all your love-life time and also sex life, and this ..

This is all he needed to have after two weeks of stress in court or at work, the tingly feeling in his stomach, he feels the knot tight as ever in relief. You just feel so heavenly.

Oh and your scent, your skin like fresh blooming flowers and your hair fresh from your shampoo, you’re hypnotizing. He takes a deep breath of your SCENT, a fresh air traveling his lungs.

“mngh.. missed y’so much”

He whimpers yet again, lost in the feeling you make him go through. His hands fisting the bedsheets under you as he places harsh kisses on your neck and collarbone.

“Oh.. ahh-mmh”

You feel him twitch inside you. He is lost, his hips growing more precise and erratic, holding your hips tightly. Fingertips marking your skin red.

His shaky hands searching for the right spot to hold your body under him, his lips pressed next to your temple. Breathe fastening and whiny.

This poor man is so drunk, his mind lost in all of you, all about you. Gulps heavy and full of drool, he catches his breath, you’re so overwhelming, it’s better than any substances, gosh.

Slow sex makes it even better, he gets to feel every inch of you. Your crystal moans caressing his hearing, his body tenses. Goosebumps all over his skin at your nails and fingertips grazing over his back.

“fuck.. y-you feel so good..”

It’s like you’re a demon, a witch sent to poison him, get him rid of his senses by the way you enchant him. God, he could never get out of this curse..

If ever he actually wanted to.

— ARTEM gepard neuvillette KURAS yuuta akaashi

— AND YOUR FAVS ♡

Artem had me on a choke hold so bad on events waw. had to add other ones that i also thought about through writing this. i was debating whether i should write more to it or not cause it’s kinda short but here you are. also i might add people or not, in case any other person fit that one.

hope you like this one! likes, rb and comments are appreciated, thank you lovelies ♡

@eternallyei. please do not copy/translate/use as your own.

[hopesangelsprite]

Your Touch

Summary: A thought that turned into me writing at nearly 1:00 am 💀

Warnings: language, fingering, biting (sexually and not sexually at the same time-), groping, grinding if you squint, manipulation (this is Illumi we're talking about... bffr)

There are many, many things we don't know about Illumi Zoldyck. For example his birthday, the full extent of his power, his total body count, etc. But we can safely say that Illumi Zoldyck is one touch starved mf 💀.

We know that he didn't have the best upbringing or most affectionate parents, so we can safely assume that the only reason he doesn't have to Google what a hug is is because of his expensive ass education and the things he's seen on television. So, imagine his shock when his wife is one of the most affectionate people on the planet.

At first he's appalled and thoroughly considers getting an immediate divorce. Then, ever so slowly, that insanely thick layer of ice on his heart begins to thaw. Those hugs he used to blatantly reject? He welcomes them albeit stiffly. If you ask him how he's feeling now, he's less likely to release bloodlust with the intent to kill you. He even finds himself seeking situations that naturally warrant your love and affection being directed solely toward him.

And just like he usually does, Illumi becomes obsessed. Forget about sleeping on your own ever again. Night after night, his cold body is either completely on top of yours or pressed firmly against your backside. When he's on top of you, settle in for the night and kiss bathroom trips goodbye because he's not moving until sunrise. When he's spooning you, both his hands station themselves in two spots: one on your chest, the other between your thighs on your crotch.

The amount of times you've fallen asleep breathless because his hands have a mind of their own is insane. The amount of times you've tried to fall asleep but couldn't because Illumi wanted to see you cum on his fingers is even crazier. And he swears he wasn't even thinking about it. You could be overstimulated and crying before he pauses in the middle of you coming. "My bad, kinda spaced out a little there.", he whispers in a voice so even it's almost believable, "I suppose I should reward you for being so patient with me, right?". Then he's back to abusing your holes. Even though you might be missing sleep, Illumi's never slept better.

When he's not terrorizing you're sensitive spots in the night, he makes sure that no matter where you are that he's got his hands somewhere on you. In a car heading somewhere? His hand's on your thigh, kneading it "absentmindedly". At a party for reconnaissance or a hit? His hands only leave your hips when absolutely necessary. Relaxing while he's in the room? Be prepared to be moved from your spot onto his lap with a quickness. If you're already in comfy spot, he won't hesitate to climb into your lap instead.

Either way his teeth will find your skin shortly afterward. This is another thing he discovered that brought him comfort. There's nothing like coming home from a long day of murder and espionage to mark you're pretty little wife up out of pure, twisted love. Bonus points if you squirm a bit while he's marking a path across your throat. Bonus bonus points if you bite him back, now you've got him started. Say you don't encourage his not so innocent behavior, he'll relax and tell you all that's been on his mind recently. It's a perfect time to bond in more ways than one.

All of those things are good and all, but his absolute favorite way of showing his affection is practically glueing his hips to your ass whenever your bent over. Say you drop a utensil while you're in the kitchen or need to grab something from under a cabinet. No matter how far away in the house he is, within seconds his big hand is on the small of your back and his crotch is nestled perfectly against your ass.

Then, to make things even eerier, he'll say shit like "My my, that was a hard fall... you should be more careful next time." or "What have I told you about putting your ass in the air without me around, someone could take advantage of you. Now bend a little lower for me.". He's such a loving husband that he makes sure to punctuate each sentence with a warning thrust or a hearty slap.

Illumi Zoldyck may be touch starved, but he's slowly making up for lost time every step of the way.

[bakugous-princess]

sometimes I forget what human contact feels like..

Is what you told your boyfriend Bakugou. Since the day you two started dating he has done nothing but love you hold you close. After that statement he took you and held you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you cried a little remembering how not affectionate your family used to be when you were younger. You were touched starved and whenever you and katsuki were like this you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. You put your hands on his neck and rubbed it placing soft open mouth kisses there too. He moaned softly, he knew this would lead to this but he wouldn’t stop you.. he liked it. You straddled him and pulled away from his neck to then pull him into a hot and passionate kiss. He kissed back for a while as you two stripped off your clothes. After a while he pulled away the both of you naked and only wear your underwears. You rubbed yourself on his hard on craving friction. He put his hands on your hips and stopped you pulling both of your underwears down and making you grind bare on his naked dick. After a few minutes he couldn’t take it anymore putting his tip in your entrance then pushing in giving you a good delicious stretch. This is when you notice.. he is just as desperate and touch starved as you.

“…Ride me like a pony princess…”