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toxicanonymity · 1 year ago

Text

Bodies.

7.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader

reader has no physical description, pics are for mood

raider master | playlists: raider, sweet pea (smut) SUMMARY: Uninvited guests make a nice evening devolve into disaster, but when they're gone, Joel takes a big step 💋 A/N: follows Hunger. Ty to this ask about flirting; arm anon; @xdaddysprincessxx, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, and others who've discussed dog's name, @javier-penas-wifexx420 for asks, @milla-frenchy for listening, everyone for patience and support. @toxicfics for notifications, @toxicrecs for fic recs. WARNINGS: I8+ canon typical violence, tension, possessive/aggressive reader, angst, self-harm scare, references to skin carving scars, hurt/comfort, Joel is a little grumpy, exhibitionism, grinding, dacryphilia, leather choker, bj with ball sucking, unsafe P in V, creampie, obsessive unhealthy toxic dynamic, Joel can hold reader, reader can hang onto Joel.

Raider POV of smut.

The dog has stuck around for more than 24 hours now. He's a good dog. He’s working on a duck foot while you, Joel, and Carter eat by the fire. The evening air is cool but mild. The sky is clear.

Joel and his men spent most of the day working on the van and looking for parts. The dog sat with you while you read a book. You made a wildflower crown and put it around the dog’s neck. When one of the men walked in your direction on his way to the woods, the dog jumped in front of you and growled. Joel looked impressed.

Now the fire is keeping you toasty as the sky fades from blue to black.

“Tommy!” you call out to the dog to see if he reacts.

Carter chokes on his food, but quickly recovers. His eyes are wide.

“What’d you say?” Joel asks, ominously quiet. When you don’t respond, he reaches over to gently turn your head toward him. The look on his face makes your stomach turn.

“I thought you’d like that one since it’s a type of gun,” you explain.

“No.” He shakes his head, “I don't like it.” He lets go of your face. “Namin’ the goddamn dog,” he grumbles under his breath. He puts down his plate and stands up.

You’re afraid to ask, but when Joel silently walks off toward the woods, you look at Carter. He asks, “He tell ya anything about his family? His brother?”

Your face is hot and your tummy feels dizzy. “He said he didn’t have any family.”

Carter raises his eyebrows, then he's quiet for a moment and stares at the ground. His face becomes studious.

“What,” you ask.

“Ain't my place,” Carter looks down apologetically.

A few seconds later, watching your face, Carter adds the obvious: “I wouldn't go there.”

"Yeah," you whisper. Anything about his family. The question weighs on you. You really don't know Joel, do you?

Carter changes the subject. “He’ll come around on the dog.”

You perk up. “You think?”

Carter nods, then adds, “Sorry ‘bout Daisy,” squinting solemnly.

“Thanks,” you nod, then can’t resist asking, “Joel wasn’t. . .married, was he?”

Carter shakes his head and doesn’t elaborate. At least there’s that. But still. His family.

You're unsettled, and you try to distract yourself with other dog names, mentally going through a list. Bullet. Clover. Duck. Joel doesn’t have to know he has a name.

Apparently, Carter is thinking about the same thing. He tries to cheer you up. “Gun names, huh? Pistol, Rifle--”

“--Rifle??” You crack a smile.

“Hey, there's no bad ideas,” Carter laughs, and you giggle.

“What about Bullet–”

“--Shh,” Carter nods toward the tree line. Joel is on his way back.

As you finish eating, Carter tries to make small talk with Joel to break the tension. Joel doesn't say much. You ask Carter how he makes his jerky, and he walks you through it. It doesn't sound hard. You could probably do it yourself.

—--Carter—--

The three of you are sitting outside by the fire after dinner. You’re on Joel’s knee, and Joel slides his hand up your dress a little bit. Carter averts his eyes and watches the dog work on his duck foot, making happy little growls and wagging his tail. Hard to say whether you and Joel are about to go inside and fuck, or if Joel’s just copping a feel like he does twenty times a day.

You have Joel wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never been like this before. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never made a girl his in the years Carter’s known him. Joel’s always been a man of focus. He’s always been a tough guy. He’s always had a temper, but at this point, he’d tear a man to shreds just for looking at you wrong. It’s scary, and it’s a lot of mess to clean up. Carter’s seen Joel do some crazy shit, but never as crazy as turning one of his own men into a scarecrow for an off-hand comment. Carter knows Joel better than anyone, and it’s clear to him that Joel is crazy about you.

The dog drops the duck foot, growls and barks, then takes off and runs toward the back of the trailer. You get off Joel’s knee to go after the dog, and Joel’s arm around your middle stops you. As Carter stands up and puts on his rifle, a high-pitched shriek comes from behind the trailer. Joel grabs his rifle off the log, and Carter says, “it’s cool,” holding his hand out. He won’t hesitate to yell if he needs Joel. “Go inside, sweet pea,” Joel tells you. You take your time going.

Carter goes around the back of the trailer and trains his rifle on two figures cresting the hill. The dog has stopped short of them and is keeping his distance, but he’s still barking and looks ready to pounce, like he’s holding himself back.

“DON’T MOVE,” Carter booms, then keeps his rifle fixed on the pair and slowly approaches them. When Carter reaches the dog, the dog’s barking fades into a low growl.

They drop their backpacks and put their hands up.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” Carter asks.

The woman clears her throat and follows it with a demure smile. “Went huntin’, came back ’n our house was taken.”

Carter nods and looks back and forth between the two of them. They’re both decent looking. Some resemblance, maybe siblings.

“What do y’all want,” Carter asks, then spits over his shoulder.

“Nothin’,” the man claims. “Just cuttin’ through on our way to the road.” His eyes pan down Carter’s shoulders and arms. Carter squares his shoulders and adjusts his grip on the gun.

Carter nods hesitantly. “Can ya hang tight for me? Don’t want ya walkin’ into gunfire.”

They nod in agreement with a hint of fear. They shouldn’t be trouble. They aren’t carrying much.

Carter walks backwards for a few slow steps, then nods and turns around toward the trailer. Carter sees you spying in the kitchen window and gives you a reassuring nod as he goes around the trailer to talk to Joel.

"They're alright, I think," Carter tells Joel.

"What do they want," Joel grumbles.

"Nothin'. . . Cuttin' through on their way to the road."

Joel nods.

“Lost their house, didn’t say who took it.”

Joel’s brow furrows and he nods. “Armed?”

“Not heavily,” Carter answers.

“Bring’em around. Let’s find out who took their house.”

“You got it,” Carter says.

—---- 🌸you 🌸 —---

You move to the window facing the yard and the fire pit with logs around it. As they walk around the trailer, you overhear that they’ve been traveling most of the day. When they stop by the fire, you wait a few minutes, thinking they’ll leave. Then they take a seat, and the woman sits on the log next to Joel’s, on the end of the log closest to him. Your chest tightens. When she smiles at him, you scoff out loud to yourself. You start to go out the front door, then stop and go to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and open the flannel. You run your finger over the faint, healed letters on your skin, and you leave your chest exposed. You adjust your thigh holster, then go outside.

When the door opens, Carter looks over his shoulder and announces, “There she is.”

Joel introduces you. “This is, uh. . .”

“Jill,” she pipes in.

“Ron,” the man nods at you.

A couple. They must be a couple. They look a little alike, but not enough to be siblings. Joel leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped, connecting with your eyes for a moment, sharing something near a smile before his eyes fade back to serious.

Joel doesn’t make room for you in his lap, but he doesn’t tell you to go back inside either. He looks alert and on guard. There are four logs and five of you. You sit on Joel’s log and feel satisfied when he doesn’t scoot toward Jill to make more room. He doesn’t mind you being right up against him. Carter’s on the log to your left. Jill talks about their house and what was going on when they got back from their hunting trip. Ron is quieter. He glances at Carter a few times. Jill keeps looking at Joel. She talks too much.

Jill says they saw Infected behind the trailer park. Joel and Carter look at each other. Your stomach twists, but you study her face, and you don’t trust her. Attention. She wants attention. She wants Joel’s attention. Joel is better than Ron – bigger, stronger, better looking. There were no Infected. She’s making it up for attention.

Everyone is quiet for what feels like a full minute. You look her dead in the eye and break the silence with a soft, matter-of-fact, “No you didn’t.” Joel gives you a cautionary look, and you add, “We would’ve seen'em. We were there yesterday.”

Jill raises her eyebrows, bemused. “Just one,” she admits with a little smile. “My brother took care of it.” She nods to Ron, and the fact that they’re siblings makes you hate her.

“Where,” Joel asks flatly. You wish he wouldn’t speak to her at all.

“Woods behind the junkyard,” she answers. “Thought ya’d wanna know,” she shrugs. It’s quiet again. Nothing but the fire crackling and the dog growling happily.

“Thanks,” Carter mumbles.

Jill’s gaze lingers on Joel. She seems pleased with herself. Joel looks away, sits back, and crosses his arms. Now she’s checking out his arms as they bulge out with his hands under them. Your heart races. Anger simmers under your ribs.

"Bet ya could handle anything that comes over that hill," she purrs at Joel. Your nostrils flare. Your eyes are glued to her. You don’t blink. She looks at Joel’s pants and wets her lips. Your heart skips a beat. It feels like a personal attack. You pop up from the log.

Joel makes room in his lap and looks at you as he replies, "Carter here could handle'em, too,” with a nod to his left.

Joel must have expected you to sit on his knee like you were before they showed up. He clears his throat as it becomes clear you’re going to fully straddle him. His nose twitches and his eyes sparkle. He puts his arms around you loosely. His hands rest on your back to help you balance. You scoot closer and he helps you settle in so your crotch rests on his. Your head is in the crook of his neck, facing toward Jill to keep an eye on her. It doesn’t take long for a familiar bulge to twitch under you.

Your arms are around Joel. Your hand runs over the handgun in the back of his pants, and he tenses.

Jill has the nerve to speak again. “That can’t be comfortable,” she laughs.

“You can’t be serious,” you snap back.

“Shhhh,” Joel whispers into your hair. “‘S’okay, baby.”

“I’m comfortable,” you tell Joel.

“I know, sweet pea.” He nuzzles his nose at the top of your ear. “‘s’okay, baby,” he whispers. You rock your hips into him, feeling him grow harder. He pulls you tight, adjusting your weight. He moves one hand to your thigh. You grind yourself into him and he lets out a little “mm.”

“Um, okay,” she mumbles in disgust.

You snarl and turn your head away from her, back toward Joel. Then you turn your head toward Carter. Carter is absentmindedly examining the bite on his hand. Ron is spaced out, watching Carter’s face. Then, his eyes fall down to Carter’s lap.

“You’re bit,” Jill announces. “Ron, he’s bit!”

Ron snaps out of his daze, sits up self-consciously, and when his eyes fall on Carter’s hand, his face hardens.

Carter protests, “It’s not–”

“--It was the dog,” your head snaps back toward Jill. “It doesn’t look anything like Infected.” She just wants attention. She wants drama.

“It was the dog,” Joel repeats, unamused. It sounds like a warning. Joel’s hand on your thigh nudges the gun loose from your holster. Your hand wraps around the handle of the gun in the back of Joel’s pants.

“Lemme see it,” Ron demands. He stands up and points his gun at Carter. He snarls with a look of disgust. His face has completely transformed since a moment ago.

“SIT DOWN,” Joel booms and grabs the gun out of your holster.

Carter starts to offer, “I’ll show-”

“No ya won’t,” Joel snaps as he stands up with you still wrapped around him. Joel points the gun at Ron. “Come into my yard, orderin’ us around?” Joel’s deep voice vibrates in your ear, then he whispers, “Go inside,” as he tries to let you down. You take the gun out of the back of his pants. “Inside, now.” You put your feet on the ground.

“Nobody owns this land,” Ron laughs.

“C’mon, man, y’all know how it works,” Carter seems to try to de-escalate. “Show some respect.”

You slowly, carefully recede into the shadows, but you don’t go inside.

Jill points her gun at Carter and demands, “Show us.” With everyone else’s eyes fixed tensely on each other, you can approach her from behind, undetected. Two guns are pointed at Carter and one at Ron. Carter reaches for his rifle, and Ron braces his own gun with both hands. Ron cocks the hammer, and you quietly approach Jill from behind.

Ron adjusts his finger on the trigger, and Joel shoots him in the head. Jill screams.

It all happens in an instant: You lunge forward, tackling her to the ground, making her drop her gun. You could shoot her in the head, but something makes you toss your gun aside. You can't stop yourself from putting your hands around her throat. She claws at your chest and breasts. She slaps you, and it stings. You elbow her in the face, keeping one hand on her neck. She keeps clawing at you. “Stupid whore,” she spits.

“I'm only his,” you snap back. She laughs. “And he’s mine,” you pant and put your palm over her face, covering as much of it as you can, putting all your weight on her. Before she can bite you, Joel’s massive hands are firm around your arms, pulling you off. You resist, and he wraps an arm around your middle.

“‘S’okay,” he repeats as he pulls you off, and lifts you into standing. “Go inside.”

You hesitate and he firmly adds, “Now. I'll handle this.” He gives you a look that says he means it. Then he turns his attention to Jill. She coughs as you walk away. She whimpers and plays up how injured she is. Pathetic.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice softens for her. “You’ll be alright,” he tells her. You glance back and he’s what? He’s straddling her. He has his hands on her face. Is he . . .stroking her hair? You can’t see well enough. Your chest burns, and you start to turn around completely, wanting to approach them.

But Carter whispers, “C’mon, let’s go,” and gently takes your elbow.

Maybe it’s for the best. You walk with Carter in a daze. Maybe you were seeing things. No, Joel is comforting her. Your Joel is straddling and comforting the woman who just slapped you and called you a whore.

“It's okay,” Joel reassures Jill again, then you hear the loud crack of her neck snapping.

You feel a lot of things. Joy, relief, guilt–not for being happy, but for doubting Joel.

Carter opens the trailer door and you go inside.

For a few minutes, you just sit at the table. Your relief at Jill’s demise quickly fades when you realize she died thinking Joel liked her. Joel acting sweet with her even for a few seconds was more than she deserved.

Now you can't calm down. All your muscles are tense. You start to cry, then you go to get a glass of water. Your hand is shaking and you can hardly hold the glass. You want to throw it, but you put it down, still empty, on the counter. You take a deep breath, bury your mouth in your shoulder, then scream as loud as you can, until you're out of air and your throat is sore. You cough and spit over the sink, nauseous from the effort. Then you slump down onto the kitchen floor in tears.

Almost as soon as you hit the floor, the front door opens. It's not Joel, it's Carter.

“What happened?” Carter rushes over to you.

“Where's Joel?”

“Haulin’ a body.”

“Which body? Don't let him touch her!”

He looks at you, stunned for a second, then says, “Not hers.”

“You promise?” you try to choke back tears.

“God damn, you're both losin’ it,” Carter mutters to himself. Then he hesitantly reaches for your shoulder. “Shhh, it's okay.”

You lunge toward him on your knees and let yourself fall onto his chest. He looks over his shoulder then hesitantly hugs you. “Okay,” he whispers with his hands very lightly touching your back but not resting their full weight. He gives you a moment, then clears his throat. “I've gotta. . . ” He lets go, stands up, and fills the glass of water. “Here.” He puts it on the table, then comes back to you.

“Been a long day, huh?” Carter asks. He squats down and takes your elbow in his hand. “C’mon.” You wipe your eyes on your flannel and stand up. He guides you to the table with his hand on your back and pulls out a chair for you. He leaves you at the table with your water.

—--

You sit there for a minute, sipping your water. Then go to the bathroom to splash your face. You stop crying. You fix your hair. But your eyes are still misty. You look at your chest in the mirror. She scratched you. You can see a couple of her scratch marks better than Joel’s name. Your chest heats up as you stare at it, and your heart beats faster. You take calming breaths. You want her to go away. You don’t want anyone on your skin but Joel. You dab your chest with a cold washcloth. The worst scratch is right over the ‘J’.

You open the medicine cabinet, don’t find anything useful, and close it. You go to the kitchen and find a pocket knife in one of the drawers. You bring it back to the bathroom and open the sharpest blade. What if you just. . .if you make the ‘J’ a little better, maybe. It’s like she goes away. How should you do it? You look down at yourself. You can’t really see. You look in the mirror and bring the knife to your chest. The hand-eye coordination is hard in the mirror.

You’re looking in the mirror, holding the pocket knife in your hand, when the front door opens and slams shut. Joel’s boots thud, then stop. He says your name. “You okay?”

You sniffle. He approaches the bathroom door. It's not shut. You move toward the door to shut it, but you're too late. Joel stops it from closing. He's so much stronger than you, he pushes it open with ease, then his arms wrap you in a hug and the force of it walks you backward toward the sink.

You still have the knife open in your hand. As his arms tighten, you whisper, “Careful,” and hold your hand away.

He pulls away, looks you over, and looks at your hand. “Hell are ya doin’,” he mutters.

You turn back toward the mirror and stroke the ‘J’. “Making it better?”

“Makin’ it. . .”

Your eyes water again as you face the mirror fully. Joel turns toward the mirror, too, standing behind you. You run your fingers over your chest with one hand and hold the knife with the other.

Joel's face changes when he realizes what you're doing. He grabs your wrist so hard you reflexively drop the knife and it clatters into the sink. “No.”

He picks it up, closes it, and puts it behind the faucet. He looks at your face in the mirror. “Can't let ya do that.”

“You said people can’t see it.”

“Told ya we’d figure somethin’ else out.”

“Like what?”

Joel runs his hand over your chest, and his thumb lingers on the scratch over the J. His nostrils flare, his head tilts down, and his eyes darken under his brow. “This from her?”

You nod.

Joel sighs and steps over to the bathtub. He starts a shower. He takes his shirt off over his back. You back away toward the door, and start to give him some space.

“Whoa, nuh-uh” Joel stops you. “Did I say leave?”

“Sorry.”

“Take your clothes off.” He sits on the toilet to untie his boots, then slips out of them and takes off his socks.

“Ya know, ya came out there. Got her all worked up,” he grumbles. What? That’s not fair.

“I just wanted you.”

“You were starin’ right at her, sweet pea.”

“I just wanted to be on you, wanted to touch you,” you insist.

“She wanted her grubby hands on you.”

“You think that's what she wanted?”

“And she got it, didn't she?” Joel asks rhetorically, eyes fixed on your chest again. He clenches his jaw at the sight of her touch. He nods toward the shower. “That’s yours.”

“Can I have a bath?” You know it’s a long shot. He’s not in the mood to wait for water to boil.

“Fire's out and we’re outta gas. Gonna be cold either way.”

You brace yourself for the water. Joel remains seated on the closed toilet and holds your hand to help you balance as you step into the tub. You're far enough back that the water only hits from your abdomen down. It's not quite as bad as you expect, but gives you a chill all over. He scans your body as it prickles in goosebumps and your nipples pebble. He reaches behind you for the soap, then lathers a washcloth. He starts with your chest. The scrape stings.

“She wanted you, not me,” you mutter, wincing at the echo of your own words under the light beating of the water. Joel slows down and you continue, “She was looking at you, not me.” He stops the washcloth on your clavicle. Lather pours between your breasts and trickles down your sternum.

Joel squints at you, looks from your mouth to your tits, swallows, and refocuses on the task, adjusting the washcloth in his hand.

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweet pea,” he murmurs and begins to slide the cloth slowly across your skin.

It’s nice to hear, but it’s not enough. Your eyes feel weak. “Well, I do worry about it,” you croak and feel the tears coming back.

He adjusts himself, then sighs. “You always cry in the shower?”

The coldness stings.

“Are you mad at me,” you ask shakily.

Joel curses himself under his breath. His brow furrows at your breasts and he braces his wet hand on his knee. “No, baby.” His eyes rise to meet yours, and he cups your cheek. “No. . .Just tired. . .” He searches your face. “Too many bodies in those woods. Gettin’ old.” You sniffle. You start mentally going through the bodies, and your head hurts at the thought. Joel says, “and ya can’t get in my shot like that, sweet pea.” You relax a little more. Your tears wane at the thought that he was already planning to kill her.

Joel stands up, hands you the washcloth, and starts to undo his jeans. You watch his pants come down over his crotch, a sight that always makes your breath hitch. “Face the water,” he mumbles, and you obey, staying far enough back not to get your head wet. He braces his hand on the far wall of the shower and steps in, squeezing between you and the back of the tub. You inch forward to make room. His feet are spread around yours and his hands rest on your hips for a moment. He presses his lips into the crown of your head, then reaches around your front to take the washcloth from you.

Joel presses himself up against your back, then continues to wash your chest. He soaps up your breasts again, then cradles one with his bare hand as he washes your trunk. You look down and watch the suds slide down your body. He washes your hips, your thighs. You’re grateful for the warmth of his groin against you. He turns you to the side and washes your sides, under your arms, your back, your ass, your legs. Then he tells you to rinse off while he washes himself. He steps all the way under the cold water without so much as flinching. When he’s finished, he rinses off, turns off the water, and wraps you in a hug. The water rolls off your skin and the faucet drips as you stand there in his arms.

After a few minutes, Joel’s deep voice slices through the silence. “Carter's stayin’ tonight. Wait here.” This unsettles you because you imagine Joel must be worried about something to have Carter stay. Did he believe her about the Infected?

Joel wraps a towel around himself and leaves you in the bathroom with your own towel. You look in the mirror for a moment, then quickly avert your eyes from your reflection.

Joel returns with clothes for you. He’s in plaid pj pants and a white t-shirt. Both are too small on him. His pockets are puckered. You smile at the sliver of skin between his pants and shirt, and he asks, “What?”

You shrug. “You’re wearing pjs.”

“Yeah? Well I ain't wearin’em long,” he murmurs and you feel a twitch of need. “You're gonna finish what ya started out there.” He looks at you darkly. “Got it?”

You bite your lip and nod as desire throbs between your legs.

“That means I ain't doin’ it, you are.”

Your chest flutters with butterflies.

He rests a flannel on his shoulder, while he holds up your nightie for you. You lift your arms and he puts it over your head. He pulls it down and pats your butt. “Want it that bad. . .” He holds the flannel up for you and you stick your arms in. He brings his mouth to your ear. “Gonna show me how bad.”

The front door opens and shuts.

“All good?” Joel yells.

“All good,” Carter answers, then exaggerates a loud yawn.

“Blankets in the closet,” Joel yells.

Joel brushes his teeth and leaves you to get ready for bed.

Joel returns just as you're finishing up. He shoves his hand in the puckered pocket of the pj pants and pulls out something brown and strappy that looks small in his hands. It looks like a piece of your holster, but thinner, more delicate. His brow furrows at it and he swallows. He sits on the closed toilet seat again.

“What is it?” you ask.

“It's. . .” He looks at your chest. “C'mere.” You step forward. He holds the object against his thigh and with his other hand, he traces the letters on your chest. “It's better than tryin’ to . . .” he trails off. He looks at your face, then back to your chest and caresses it again. “Better than this.” Your heart swells. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to hurt you.

He looks at the object in his lap.

“It's for me?”

He nods. He takes a deep breath and fiddles with the belt-like closure. “Can wear a sweater or whatever, and still. . .”

“Lemme try it on.”

He searches your eyes. “Really want to?”

You nod.

He stands up and guides you to the sink. He stands behind you as you both look in the mirror. He wraps it around your throat. Your breath hitches when you see his name in careful, bold lettering, clear but imperfect. It’s an odd sensation, having something around your neck, but the back of it is soft against your skin. It’s smoother and more delicate than the holster is on your thigh.

“It's beautiful,” you tell him as he concentrates on putting it on you.

He's gentle and careful. He fastens it with enough room to breathe and swallow. You look at it in the mirror, and the fact that he made it makes you emotional. “You made it,” you whisper.

He nods. “Don't gotta wear it all the time, but-”

“I love it.”

“Yeah?” he turns you around with his hands on your hips, and his gaze devours your form from head to toe. “Well, God damn. . .Looks good on ya, too.”

You wrap your arms around him and he hugs you close. He leans back to see you wearing the choker. “Let's go to bed.”

—-—--

You take off the flannel and get in bed. You bury your head in your pillow. Joel wraps you in his legs and arms, muscles straining his pajamas as he holds you in the dim room. His big, warm hand strokes your back. His body is like a furnace. You take deep breaths. In his bed, in his arms, you finally feel like you can breathe. His arms feel like home in a way that nearly overwhelms you. These are the arms that took you. They hurt you and pushed you away. Would they still? These arms hold you and care for you. They comfort you and kill for you. You hope they never let go.

It doesn't feel like you were ever really home before him, and it's impossible to imagine an after. There is no after. You're his. In the cruel, awful world, he carved out this space just for you. He kisses your forehead. You pinch your eyes shut and a tear runs down your cheek. It's a tear of relief. You press your cheek into his white t-shirt and his warm package twitches against you. He pushes his hips into you only slightly, and keeps holding you. You focus on his breathing and the beat of his heart.

You wedge your hand between your bodies. Your knuckles slide down your abdomen, and your palm skims his tummy on its way to his pants. You cradle the warm bulge in his flannel. You press your palm into it and he grunts softly as he presses his hips forward. Then he wraps an arm over you. He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You're on top of him, and your heart flutters as his words from the bathroom echo. That means you’re doin' it.

You come to your knees, and he watches you curiously as you straddle him. You lower yourself so your panties meet his flannel, and the warmth of his bulge sends a shock to your chest. You lightly grind against him and watch his chest rise and fall as his cock swells against your neediest place. His hips lift and his eyes gloss over as he watches you move on him. You must be a vision – swollen, misty eyes, scratched up chest – but the look on his face says you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That means you're doin’ it.

You scoot back so you’re straddling his thighs. You bring your hand just above his waistband, and your thumb traces his happy trail up under his t-shirt to his belly button, bringing the shirt up with you. You use both hands to push it up and he asks, “Want this off?”

“It's okay,” you shake your head. “Just like to see this. You slide your hand down his stomach, once again running your thumb through the hair leading to his groin. You run your hand slowly up and down it a few times and feel his muscles tense under the light padding of his tummy. The bulge in his pants becomes more of a tent. His tummy flexes as he rises up enough to take the shirt off anyway.

“What else ya like?” He asks. By now, he knows. Oh God, does he know. But he must want to hear it. He must want to see it, feel it. He wets his bottom lip. You back up down his legs and take his flannel pants down. His cock bounces free, and for a moment, you dismount him entirely. Once the pjs are down below his knees, he kicks them off the rest of the way as you take off your underwear. He sucks in air through his nose as he watches you. He's still, and he’s quiet, but the look on his face is more pain than patience.

You straddle his legs, bend at the hips, and rest your elbows on either side of his hips. You take his cock in one hand, then bring your lips to the head. He's still not at full mast. Not for him. For another man, this might be as hard as it gets, but not Joel. You suck the tip into your mouth. A masochistic part of you imagines how many women might have sucked this cock. You have, too, of course. But you want to outdo them all. You suck as much of it into your mouth as you can, and he sucks in a shaky breath as you furrow your brows and close your eyes. You suck from the back of your mouth, and your throat gurgles obscenely as his tip nudges it, then you gag. His hand rests gently on the side of your head. “You’re okay.”

You lock eyes with him as you slowly let his shaft out of your mouth. A string connects your lips to his tip until you wipe your mouth with the back of your wrist. You hold his shaft in a loose fist, thumbing his dorsal vein as you turn your attention to his balls. You cup his balls, then lick a stripe up the seam of his sack, and his hand grips the fitted sheet. When you look up at him, he releases the sheet. Your tongue circles his left nut and he closes his eyes. You have your free hand braced on his upper thigh, near where it meets his torso, and you can practically feel the blood rushing to his cock. His eyes meet yours again, and his brows are furrowed.

“Can I have them in my mouth,” you ask and he nods encouragingly.

You take one into your mouth and circle your tongue around it. You let it rest on your tongue then give it a gentle suck and he breathes, “oh God damn.” It’s fuzzy and soft and feels nice in your mouth.

You pinch your eyes shut and sigh, “Mm,” with your mouth full. You move to the other one, careful and gentle. “Ohh,” he moans a little louder than you expect, and you pause.

You look toward the bedroom door nervously, and take your mouth off. You’re about to remind him about Carter, but he cuts you off, “Shhh,” before you can.

You lick all around his balls again, and his cock throbs angrily in your hand. You suck a ball into your mouth. You want both, but there’s no way you can do it without scraping him with your teeth, so you don’t.

Instead, you return your lips to his tip and feel yourself throbbing as you suck his shaft into your mouth. When you look up, he’s shaking his head no.

“This aint what ya wanted, baby.”

“Is it good?” you ask.

“Yeah. It's good, sweet pea. . .The best.” His thumb brushes your temple. He moves his fingers to tilt your chin up to look at him. “But this ain't what ya want *really* want.”

“Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah? You were bouncin’ on my cock out there, just to make me feel good?”

You twitch and swallow and your chest flutters with desire.

“What’d I tell ya in the bathroom?”

“I'm gonna finish what I started”

“That’s right,” he nods.

His cock is raging hard. You’re throbbing and gushing for it. You give the tip of it one last kiss, then get up on your knees and take your time positioning yourself over it. You press his tip against your most sensitive place for a moment and let out a whimper. The contact makes you ache for him.

—

Joel cradles the backs of your thighs as you hold his cock. You look down as you move forward just a little more, then nestle his cockhead at your dripping hole, the very tip of it prodding just barely inside. You’re more than wet enough. You brace your hands on his tummy, near the bottom of his ribs. Then, you begin to sink down with a whimper, letting his cock spread you open. He growls, “God damn.” You're biting your lip, with his big cock stretching you already.

He nods, “go on, you can do it.” You lift yourself up and bend slightly forward, tilting your hips. He sucks in air through his teeth. He grabs your hips, and you groan as he pulls you down. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. He loosens his hands on your hips, then moves them to your thighs. You sit still on his cock with your body angled slightly forward, your clit pressing into his pubic hair. You savor the fullness and the way your body makes space for him.

You brace your hands on his chest and begin to move yourself. “Good girl,” he whispers with a gentle thrust of his hips. You whimper as his length nudges deep inside, and his hips lift you.

You lift your ass and let most of his length out, before swallowing it up again and moaning with the delicious stretch. You slowly move yourself, and when you whimper, you feel his nipples harden under your hands. You palm his pecs as you ride his cock. His chest rises with deep breaths as you fuck him. His eyes keep drifting to his name wrapped around your neck.

You try to be quiet, biting your lip, but you still let out little moans, you can't help it. So does he. “Ohhh, baby—ohh.” His sounds are desperate, from deep in his chest.

“Ya do it good,” he whispers. He cradles your ass in his massive hands and begins to move you on him, a little faster than you were going. He watches your breasts move under your nightie. He lifts up the hem of your nightie to watch your cunt swallow his length, and he groans softly. You pause and take it off, then start moving again.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then his hands return to your ass, gently guiding your rhythm. He clenches his jaw, and you can tell he's trying not to take over entirely.

“C’mere a minute,” he murmurs.

His tummy pudges and wrinkles over his flexing abs, and his fingers dig into your ass cheeks as he sits up. He wraps his arms around you and turns to face the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off. “Hang on,” he murmurs. “Hang on, baby.” He holds your back with one arm, stands up slightly, and pulls at one of your thighs. You adjust your position so you’re seated instead of kneeling and your bent legs wrap loosely around him. Without the leverage of your knees on the bed, it’s up to him.

You have your arms around his neck and your face against his cheek. Your lips pull like a magnet to the skin just below the dark, curly hair on his head. You plant a kiss on his neck and suck lightly. He exhales vocally. He hugs you into him and moves you up and down. He’s doing it all now. You both sigh and moan as his cock fills you up.

Then, he loosens his arms and slides his hands to your shoulder blades. He hooks his thumbs under your arms and breathes, “Lemme see ya for a minute.”

You hesitantly let him pull you away from his body, missing the heat of his chest against yours.

“Ain't gonna drop ya, sweet pea.”

You relax some of your weight into his hands, and he brings you all the way down so you're lying face up with your lower back on his lap. His hands under your arms hold you steady as he thrusts into you, like your body is a warm, wet sleeve for him. You let your head fall back in pleasure. He grunts as he moves you, and you look again to see him snarl. He looks down and watches his cock disappear again and again.

“God damn you feel good,” he whispers. His eyes roam from your eyes to your lips, to your choker, to your tits. He watches where your bodies are joined as he keeps thrusting into you, making you feel like no one ever has. Then his eyes drift up your body again. He slows down. His hands tighten, and he grunts as he brings your body upright again. Your breasts meet his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck again as he hugs you. Your cheek rests against his jaw, and his scuff scratches you pleasantly. “Always so good,” he breathes, moving you on his cock. His breath is warm against your ear. “Ohh baby,“ he sighs.

He tilts his chin to look up at the ceiling, and you latch onto his neck. He braces a hand on the bed and his hips lift under yours as you grind your body into his. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Oh, God, baby. You're–you’re so good for me,” he pants, barely above a whisper. “Ohhh–so good, sweet pea.”

You release his neck with a whimper. He cradles your head with one hand, and his cheek returns to yours.

As you ride him, his head slowly drifts back, so his breath is on your cheek instead of your ear. Your lips are dangerously close, and Joel doesn't pull away. Your mouths get closer while your bodies move as one. Soon, the corners of your lips are touching. You breathe and moan against each other's mouths. Your lips tingle at the closeness, and all you want is his mouth on yours. It feels so close. The sides of your mouths move against each other. It’s enough, just feeling his lips. You want more, but it’s enough, for now. He pulls his head back, and your heart barely has time to sink before he leans his forehead against yours and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths loosely connect, with his lower lip hitching on your upper lip every time you slide down his cock. You breathe each other’s breath. Your noses touch. His bottom lip tenses, and his mouth follows yours, not letting your lips slip away. You moan softly against his mouth, pinching your eyes shut, resisting the urge, resisting it.

Then, Joel presses his open lips against yours. His lips drag lightly, clockwise, then they truly embrace you. As your mouths seal together, you half-moan, half-whine, “Mmm.” His lips are strong and desperate, pulling on yours like a hug. You can feel him taking your air and your spit. He sucks it right out of you, replacing it with an even more desperate need for him. You’re having him, you’re having all of him, but you can never have enough. Arousal floods your body. It gathers deep in your gut and bubbles up to your chest. You take a deep breath through your nose as his tongue slowly thrusts into your mouth and finds yours. His cock is in your tight, wet cunt, and his tongue is in your soft little mouth. You throb and twitch on his cock, and you're nearly overcome. Your whole body simmers. He wraps his arm tighter around you, and your tits smush against him as he kisses you hungrily, and you kiss back. It’s real, it’s really–it’s real. His hand slides down to grip the back of your neck as your mouths move together, drawing each other in, deeper and deeper, like you need it to live.

“Mmmm,” you whine at your imminent peak.

“Mm,” he grunts into your mouth as you twitch again on his cock. His tongue slides against yours, and the tension boils over violently, erupting from your core out to every inch of your body. Your walls clench, and you don't want to let go of his mouth, but your body jerks. Your lips begin to break away with a moan as you spasm on his cock. He holds you there by your neck. Your mouths stay half connected, and you breathe and moan against each other. Time freezes and waves of pleasure ripple through your core. Then, Joel’s thick cock twitches in the embrace of your spasming cunt. “Ugghh,” grunts, then his lips take yours again. “Mmmm.” He erupts, and you're still not finished. He holds you still, holds you tight. His hips lift slowly into you as his cock pulses. Massive bursts of warmth flood your core, and he kisses you slowly but needily as he comes. The kiss becomes sloppy. You both breathe through your noses, but your mouths still disconnect for split seconds, breathing each other’s humid breath.

When Joel finishes emptying his load into you, he gently pulls his lips from yours to take a deeper breath. He leans back and collapses on the bed. You sit there on his cock, still twitching, and your hand drifts to your tingling lips. His hands rest on your thighs. You watch his chest expand with air, and you watch his face. He opens his eyes, then silently motions c’mere with both hands. You fold at your hips and hug him. As you settle in, he strokes the nape of your neck. His chest rises and falls under your cheek. He unfastens the leather choker for you. You were planning to sleep in it, but now that he’s kissed you–and it was more than that, it felt like more–you don't feel quite as desperate for the tangible reminder that he wants you. You have it. Your lips are buzzing. Your whole body is. You can feel it in your bones.

After a few minutes of caressing you, Joel murmurs, “Let's get some sleep.”

You both get under the covers. He lies on his back. You’ve never seen his face so peaceful. You rest your head and half your body on him. You rest your hand on his chest. He strokes your back. Then, he lays his other hand on top of yours.

Soon, you drift off to the sound of him lightly snoring.

----

Raider POV: The Kiss

----

So, I was writing this one when I took the detour to let Carter jack off lmao: He's only human.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I really appreciate your support and patience and love for these characters. Out of all my characters, it means so much to me when you engage with raider Joel because I pour a lot of myself into this one and have been writing it for >8 months.

Love you all so much! I can't respond to everything without spamming but I appreciate all of your commentary so much and often revisit it when I need inspo.

I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not getting a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou @gab-thelamb-onthemoon

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #dark!joel miller #raider!joel miller #raider!joel #raider joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel ☠️#cw dubcon #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #dark fluff #dark sweet pea

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depravitycentral · 9 months ago

Text

Yandere! Asahi Azumane NSFW Profile

Yandere! Asahi Azumane x fem! reader

TW: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, light somnophilia, masturbation, panty sniffing, breeding, lactation kink, mentions of pegging, Asahi wears lingerie, size kink but remember that Asahi is very large and it's written with the idea that everyone is smaller than Asahi, one very, very brief mention of reading not eating enough, fem reader, MDNI

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

WC: 12K

HABITS:

Before having you in his life, sex was something Asahi wasn’t super comfortable with. Despite coming more out of his shell with the passing years, he’s never truly shaken off his shyness, and so the prospect of casual sex is absolutely not something he’s interested in.

He’s had a girlfriend or two and is thus not a stranger to women’s bodies, but he’s found that he’s simply just not that sexual of a man. Sex just wasn’t important to think about – he gets easily flustered even as a fully grown adult, and while he can handle mature conversations about intimacy, just the thought of being so lewd and bending someone over to have his way with them gets his ears turning red, his knees buckling and his words coming out all slurred and distorted because he can’t think clearly.

It’s embarrassing, if he’s being honest, and so he finds himself simply avoiding sex and, in turn, partners. And this extended into his personal sex life and habits as well – he’s not the most regular in terms of touching himself, preferring to just let the bout of horniness or the occasional incessant boner pass on its own.

He’ll do it occasionally to relieve tension and because he enjoyed how it feels, but it’d only happen a few times a month, if only because the embarrassment was difficult to overlook. After all, how lonely is it to look down and see his own hand wrapped around his cock? Familiar fingers gripping his red, swollen length in the comfort of his own room, the lame background music he’d put on to feel better doing absolutely nothing.

The reality is that Asahi is actually quite lonely before you step into his life – he's not quite smooth and suave enough to be successful with women or even be willing to put himself out there, and the realization that the only way for him to get some sort of sexual relief is via himself makes him too sad to indulge often.

And even once you step into his life, this is still true – except now there’s the addition feeling of yearning, wishing so strongly that it’s your fingers instead of his own (or perhaps your mouth, your breasts, or – god forbid – your pussy) that touching himself becomes even more of an emotional struggle.

And as time passes, Asahi sticks to his typical pattern of seldomly masturbating – but then his feelings grow deeper, his infatuation with you festering more and more, his thoughts about you delicately toeing the line between sweet and only slightly disturbing to downright depraved.

After all, how can he not imagine fucking you in every position he’s ever seen?

How can he not imagine the sight of you perched in his lap, pretty body bare for him to ogle while you scoop your hips up and down, moaning his name and guiding your lips to latch onto a bouncing nipple, your cunt squeezing down on him like a fucking vice?

The embarrassment is still there, of course, as is the shame and loneliness, but his feelings for you are just too strong to ignore, his desperation too insistent to quell. And with every gasping, toe-curling orgasm that wracks his body, Asahi comes closer and closer to deciding that he needs you, that just his hand or his pillow aren’t enough to satisfy him.

No, he needs you – your touch, your body, your pretty, tight, warm walls sucking him in so hard that you never let him go.

As the frequency with which he gets off increases, Asahi finds that he has a particular system for how he pleasures himself - and it involves a secret that he is not proud of.

He’s not especially proud of the fact that he relies exclusively on the (now a bit ragged) pair of panties you’d accidentally left at his apartment in order to get off, but it’s too late to change now. You’d had a rather serious dental procedure, and had turned to Asahi to request that you stay the night at his place to minimize your driving and responsibilities while the anesthesia wore off.

Asahi had of course jumped at the chance, ending the phone call with shaking fingers, a blush covering every inch of his face, and his heart practically beating out of his chest at the prospect of sharing a roof with you for a night just like couples do. And he’d been attentive to your every need; cooking you a warm soup, getting the best sheets he had and letting you sleep in his bed rather than the couch.

(Of course, he still hasn’t washed those sheets after you’d slept in them – if he tries hard enough to thinks he can smell you in the fabric, occasionally finding strands of your hair by his pillow and letting each one sit on the tip of his tongue for just a moment, savoring the taste of you.)

You’d forgotten a pair of underwear in your overnight bag, and while Asahi had meant to tell you, curiosity got the better of him and before he knew it he was picking them up, swallowing thickly, and thumbing at the double-layered section that rubs right up against your folds. It was all too easy to imagine how you must look in them – the mental image of you making a shiver erupt down his spine, needing to lean on his desk for support.

He felt a bit guilty for not returning them, but he couldn’t help it - they were so utterly you, your favorite color and a style he just knows would frame your cute little ass perfectly, your plush thighs and creamy skin sitting on display and practically begging to be kneaded, squeezed at, marked up and bruised with hickeys.

And that night, as he lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking of your face and how he’d quite literally give up his own life just to kiss you once, just to feel your lips pressed snugly against his own, slowly the more risqué thoughts are drifting into his mind.

What would it feel like to have you kiss other parts of his body? How would you taste if he kissed your collarbone, gently suckled on a nipple, licked a long stripe up the puffy lips of your cunt?

How would you react if he were to teasingly kitten lick at your clit, or if he whispered a heated, honest I love you into your ear as he pushed deep inside of you and filled you to fucking brim with his cum?

His mind slowly drifts to more lewd areas, his body growing hot as he imagines you riding him like your life depended on it, bouncing up and down and making your entire body jiggle, your tits bouncing in his face and your voice thin and gasping as you tell him that it’s too much, I can’t Asahi, please, need you to fuck me now…

And soon, he’s deciding that he can’t just ignore the stroke of luck he’d gotten that day, that he’d somehow managed to come by a pair of your panties, something he’s only been able to dream about. And as he locks his door and dims the lights a bit, he’s snatching the pair of panties he’d neatly folded and placed on top of his dresser.

Immediately, he notices the slight fresh stain against the crotch, and his eyes go wide - you had already worn them? They’d already touched the slick, warm place between your legs, the place that gets Asahi salivating and bright red with just a mere thought?

With shaking hands, he timidly brings the cloth up to his nose, inhaling and moaning aloud as the smell he can only describe as you clouds his senses. They’re pungent, proof that you must have had a long day with them adorning your pretty body, and immediately his cock is standing at attention, his tip flushed and oozing precum in copious amounts, his balls occasionally twitching in desperation, practically begging to be touched. He lays the panties down against his face, tilting his head back slightly so that the cloth stays against his nostrils, the smell of you filling every breath his takes.

He gulps, wrapping his fingers around himself, hissing slightly at the pressure and letting his eyes drift closed. He gently squeezes, bringing his hand up to the tip, using his thumb to swirl around his slit for a moment as he brings the material once more up to inhale again.

He groans, the pleasure sending shivers down his spine, and before he knows it his fist is pounding down against his pelvis, long strokes against his rock hard cock as he grunts and lowly moans your name, airy breaths of oh – oh you’re so pretty, I love you – hah, love that pretty pussy of yours.

The pace is purposefully slow, his movements still a bit timid because he’s worried he’ll come too fast, that he’s too pent up, that the smell of you will send him over the edge way too soon.

He doesn’t want this moment to end – the pleasure, the exploration, the feeling of having you the closest he’s ever had. He continues to sniff and whine, absolutely amazed at the wonderful, musky scent of you, fantasies running through his mind about the way you’d react to him touching you, to him sinking his cock inside of you again and again and turning you into a trembling, incoherent mess all for him.

He can’t help himself from imagining what you’d smell like when you’re finally in front of him, a groan slipping from his lips as he imagines the way you’d feel perched on his face, your thighs caging in his head and your fingers raking through his hair as he slurps and sucks and moans against you, desperation lacing his movements because god he wants to make you come.

He can’t help but imagine you taking every inch of him inside that warm little pussy of yours, sucking him in and gripping onto his swollen length so tightly he’s sure you must never want to let go. And his eyes flutter close his lips part slightly, drool pooling in his mouth as he loses himself in the pleasure, the feeling of his hand so much better than normal now that he has something to smell, something that’s so clearly you rather than just his thoughts. His hand picks up a bit, and as his tongue darts out to lick his lips, panties still draped over his face when he stops short, eyes flying open as his hips buck wildly.

Tentatively he sticks his tongue out once more, rolling it against the crotch of your panties. Immediately his eyes are flying open and he’s whining your name, hips bucking up as he runs his tongue along the fabric once more, relishing the taste of you against his tongue.

Curses and whimpers of your name along with yes, o-oh yes yes yes, god feels so – so good fly out of his mouth. Suddenly a particularly hard clench of his abs makes him gasp, the words slurred and nearly incoherent as he moans out ‘m gonna – I can’t hold it in, a-ah oh god ‘m-!

His whole body tenses, every breath he takes smelling like you you you as warm cum spurts up and onto his chest, the t-shirt he’s wearing utterly destroyed as it just keeps coming, rope after rope. He’s moaning your name, eyes squeezed shut as he loses himself in your taste, imagining he’s buried as deeply in you as possible, stuffing you full of his cock that he’s all you can feel, all you can see and hear and taste and think of.

It takes him a few minutes to recover, and once his breathing is steady once more he’s staring at his ceiling, in shock of how good it felt to have your scent and taste, to make it seem just a bit more realistic. He’s careful with your panties as he delicately picks them up off of his face, chest still heaving with the residual pleasure of his orgasm, dutifully and carefully folding up the cloth.

After much debate he ends up slotting the panties neatly under his pillow, swallowing heavily and practically giddy with the knowledge that he’ll be sleeping so close to something of yours, his face mere inches away from you, basically.

And that night, as he lays in bed, he’s breathing in hard, hoping to get even the slightest whiff of you from below his pillow, sleep eventually lulling him into dreaming about you laying in his arms, his cum still leaking out of you.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your hands

Asahi’s always found himself drawn to your hands. Perhaps because his job requires so much of his hands between sewing, measuring, tailoring, and everything else, or perhaps because he’s simply attracted to them.

Regardless, Asahi quickly discovers that every time he’s with you, he’s always aching to reach out and intertwine his fingers with yours, to feel your palm pressed against his own.

And really, they’re just so small compared to his own rough, calloused hands – so soft and delicate, something he can stare at for hours without growing tired.

He’ll trace every line, every mole and mark, memorizing each and every detail because it all just feels so important. He doesn’t care whether your fingers are long and dainty, shorter and wider, veiny and pale, anything and everything is pure perfection to Asahi, and he’ll be worshipping your hands no matter what condition they’re in.

Even in the early stages of his obsession with you, he’s always been interested in them – the way you idly crack your knuckles, how you mindlessly tap random rhythms against your desk when you’re bored or waiting for something, how you run your fingers over your hair when you’re focusing.

He has a tendency to stare, and while he thinks that you don’t catch him often (you d0, but based upon the fire engine blush on his cheeks and the way his eyes immediately dart away, you figure it’d be kinder to not confront him about it), he’s been fascinated since day one with how they could possibly feel, how soft your fingers would be, the exact lines on your palms, whether they get clammy easily or not.

And once your relationship moves to the point of any sort of affection, Asahi’s preference for your hands will quickly become apparent – he’s trying to hold them at any chance he can get, intertwining his fingers with your own, bringing them up to kiss each knuckle individually, listing off a thing he loves about you for each.

He loves the way they feel against his own calloused palms, how your fingers are so much shorter than his own, how when you hold your palm up against his, you barely reach his last knuckles.

It only furthers his perception of you being so in need of protection, and he loves to feel those hands against him, touching him. He loves the sight of your fingers wrapped around his thick cock, barely able to wrap fully around, such a stark contrast to the hard, pulsing, veiny expanse of his length. He loves the friction as you thrust your hand up and down, biting his lip and knitting his brows together because even though it’s just a simple handjob it feels so much better when it’s your hands and fingers wrapped around him.

He loves how they feel against him when you’re touching him, running them along his front and down below his v line, how it sends shivers down his spine just to have you ghost a fingertip against his sensitive skin.

He likes holding your hand while he fucks you, keeping his grip on you firm as his hips steadily thrust into you, the pleasure slowly mounting. His fingers clench onto your own progressively tighter, until they nearly crush yours as he stares down at you with wide eyes, his lips falling open into a desperate moan of I – coming! while he buries his face in your neck, filling you with spurt after spurt of cum.

He loves the way you scratch his down his back as he hovers over you, the pleasure and pain mixing together while he focuses on holding off his orgasm for as long as possible, not wanting to end the feeling of being inside of you, not wanting to end the way you’re clutching onto him and moaning for him, begging for him and telling him that he feels so good Asahi ‘m gonna come-!

Asahi loves your hands, and at any given time he’ll be touching them in some capacity - whether it be holding your hand, resting his cheeks against your palm or sucking at your fingers while you toy with him and make tears well up in those pretty eyes of his.

He just loves them.

His hair

He’s long harbored fantasies of you playing with his hair, to feel you giving it attention and mindlessly running your fingers through it.

He’s absolutely convinced that it would be the most comfortable, wonderful thing in the world, that it would be the single most amazing experience he’ll ever have, to have your attention solely focused on him, you touching him, maybe even telling him how lovely his hair is, how you’re jealous of how soft and smooth and pretty it is…

Just the thought of you complimenting his hair is enough to have him wildly blushing, his dark eyes staring at the floor in embarrassment and bashfulness, secretly yearning for you to tell him more, to compliment him again and again until he faints from all the blood rushing to his cheeks.

(And, though he’d never tell you, to his cock, too.)

And once you’re trapped with him in your new shared ‘home’, Asahi is still harboring the fantasy, even more so than before – and yet, he will never ask for it, never request for you to play with it, to run your nails against his scalp and gently tug on the roots.

He wont’ ask, if only because it feels wrong to request anything of you after he’s kidnapped you, when you’re so obviously still afraid of him.

So he waits in silence, praying for the day when you mindlessly start playing with his hair – he’ll always position himself so that his hair is accessible if the desire overtakes you, a small flame of hope igniting in him chest and extinguishing out every time you move and don’t come any closer to his head.

(He goes to bed on those nights with a heavy heart, his own tangling into his hair and tugging, your name slipping past his lips.)

But Asahi is a patient man, and once you do start absentmindedly playing with his hair, Asahi is beyond pleased to know that you don’t stop. You seem to grow an affinity for running your fingers through it, for braiding it, styling it, really doing anything at all.

He knows that you enjoy his hair – it becomes his favorite thing in the world to feel you play with it, and he spends hours with you sitting behind him with his head leaning back between your knees, his body starting out stiff because holy shit, he’s so close to you, but eventually relaxing, even falling into a slumber because the feeling is just so calming. He wants you to braid it, mess with it, do anything your heart desires with it because he loves the attention and the relaxing feeling it brings.

But of course, he also loves his locks for other, less wholesome reasons - the way you tug at it when he’s got his face buried between your legs, for example, and how your grip tightens against his scalp as you get closer and closer to release.

Sometimes you synch your cries with the tugs, something that Asahi is sure you’re unaware of, but he can’t help the way he forces himself to work harder, to focus more in order to get you off, in order make you have the most Earth shattering orgasm, the best feeling you’ve ever experienced, and with each hair tug he only becomes more determined.

He loves the way you get rough with it, the slight tinge of pain that accompanies it, and it never fails to make him groan, to sigh out your name against your cunt.

(Sometimes, when he’s in the mood but you physically aren’t in a position to touch his hair, he’ll reach up and tug at the strands himself, imagining your fingers instead of his own. It gets him whimpering, desperation for you so thick that he can nearly taste it, but Asahi just can’t help it. It’s an obsession in and of its own right, and he can’t deny how much he loves it.)

DRIVE:

Asahi’s drive is really quite average – he’s not an incessantly horny man by any means, and while he does have the occasional passing fantasy or wet dream, he’d never categorize himself as a hormone-driven man. He doesn’t watch porn, doesn’t follow any social media influencers whose content borders on the edge of distasteful, and he sometimes even fastforwards through sex scenes in movies simply because he finds it uncomfortable to watch two people having sex – even if it’s fake.

And so Asahi finds himself mostly avoiding intimacy on that level, though it’s not entirely on purpose. He’s by no means a saint, though; he’s still human, and when he sees a woman with particularly large breasts or perfectly manicured fingers there’s always the fleeting thought of what if, the fantasies clawing in the back of his mind of how he’d love to latch onto a nipple and suck, to imagine how much better those fingers would look wrapped around his cock or cupping at his balls.

He rarely touches himself, sure, but he’s not a stranger to sex, his limited experience still experience nonetheless.

And so while it’s very, very easy to fluster or rile him up, he generally isn’t hard and desperate to fuck you at all times. He values you for much more than just your pussy – you’re his dream woman, the person he views as his life-long partner, the one he wants to spend every waking moment with and share every last breath. He’s content to just hold you, to press a soft kiss against your temple and whisper a little confession of love rather than pin you down and fuck you until you’re crying.

(Of course, he won’t say no if you were to beg him to touch you, his face only turning red and his voice cracking a bit as he rushes out a quick yes! Um, yes of course, I’ll uh, be right back… and then leaving the room to take a few deep breaths and whisper to himself that it will be fine, she wants you, you’ll do well, don’t overthink it.)

Asahi is very dependent on what you want, always concerned about your opinion and vote and desires, and so while there are times that those wild hormones do in fact take over and his body starts begging him to slip down that cute pair of panties he bought for you and sit you directly on his cock, to bounce you up and down and use you like some life sized sex toy, watching as your breasts jiggle and your face contorts up into that sexy, perfect little ‘o’, Asahi won’t until you make the move to do so.

(It’s out of respect and lucidity for your consent and state of mind. He already feels guilty enough from having stalked you and stolen you away to live in his modest apartment with him, and forcing himself onto you is absolutely the last thing he wants to do.)

He’s not constantly horny, but it doesn’t take too much to rile him up. A few suggestive words and lingering touches can have him needy and eager to touch and please you in mere seconds – casually tell him over dinner that you feel so empty, Asahi, won’t you come fill me up and watch the way his entire body stiffens, brown eyes meeting your gaze and immediately looking at the table in embarrassment, his face flushed a bright red and his knee bouncing under the table as he mutters out a are – are you sure? I don’t want to leave you hungry – not that you haven’t eaten enough! That’s not what I’m saying, I just – um, I uh… Do you really want that?

(His voice gets a bit vulnerable at the end there, his tone higher and his eyes daring to meet yours again, his mousy brown hair falling around his jaw like a halo.)

Leave a hand on his bicep and gently squeeze, biting your lip and making a show of raking your gaze up and down his body and you’ll see the way he gulps, the sound audible as he shudders a breath, his pants already growing tight and nudging against you.

(You can actually feel the warmth of him through his jeans when he does this – cock warm and ready and throbbing.)

For him, your pleasure is the number one priority, and as such it’s his duty to prioritize what you want when you want it, rather than his own desires. You should be in charge, should be the one calling the shots and telling him that you’re okay with him fucking you like he so desperately wants. You should be the one to tell him that it’s okay each time he nervously and compulsively asks you if it’s okay for him to kiss you or touch your waist or unclasp your bra or moan your name or come -

And even once you’re both naked and touching one another, he views his own orgasms as a background to yours. He mostly just wants you to feel good, and he’s pretty much at your beck and call for whenever you’d like to feel the euphoric high that only an orgasm can bring you, in whatever way you’d like him to get you there. He’s game to finger you, to eat you out, to fuck your cute little pussy that makes him moan and whine every time, even your ass if you bring it up.

Asahi never fails to deliver, and he’ll never, ever complain. He loves to touch you and get you moaning, even if he’s a bit shy and flustered the whole time. It makes him so, so happy to know that he’s the one touching you, that he’s the one making you feel so good and satisfied.

But before you begin feeling any desire to be with him in an intimate setting, Asahi still has urges. He still very, very badly wants to touch you and feel you against his skin, to trace out the map of your body and chart every mole, hair, blemish and roll.

You’re just so fucking perfect to him, and he can’t help but desire you physically when he sees the way your breasts bounce as you try to reach the top shelf in the kitchen (he’s more than happy to come to your rescue and grab the jar off the top shelf, secretly smitten with himself because he’d put it there with the hopes of creating this moment).

He can’t help but want to taste your saliva when he sees you sweating on a particularly hot day, the bead rolling down your temple and following the curve of your cheekbones, his tongue coming out to lick a long stripe along his lips because fuck, he bets you taste sweet.

These urges are still present and strong, but because of his commitment to not force you into anything, Asahi finds that he has to satisfy himself in other ways. That is, it doesn’t necessarily feel good to sneak into the extra bedroom he’d transformed into your personal room, but as soon as he catches a whiff of your scent and sees your sleeping, relaxed form on the mattress, his mouth goes dry and he’s shuffling forward before he even realizes it.

You’re sprawled out on the mattress he’d bought especially for you, the soft t-shirt and short set he'd gotten you sitting haphazardly on your hips and riding up to expose a bit of your stomach. It makes him gulp, his eyebrows drawing in a bit as he slowly, carefully, sits down onto the empty space beside you on the bed.

He can’t stop staring at you – you’re so pretty, and as your lips part slightly and you breath, he can’t help but whimper slightly – he can only imagine how it would feel to kiss you, to feel your lips against his own and feel your tongue brush against his.

Would you bite his lip, tease him with a bit of pain before kissing him harder, pushing your tongue inside and moaning into his mouth because it just feels too good? He hopes so, and it’s not long before he’s imagining all of the other things that mouth of yours could do – he’s sure your kisses would feel like heaven against his chest, lips wrapped around a nipple and sucking lightly, tongue flattening out to run over the pebbled skin again and again and making him shiver.

He’s sure that your lips would feel even better lower, pressed against the juncture of his hip and thigh, moving up and to the side, slowly – so fucking slowly – moving towards where he really needs you, where he’s pulsing and throbbing and leaking so much precum that it almost looks like he’s already reached his high.

He closes his eyes briefly as he imagines the way you’d suckle on his tip, your pretty lips puckered and those eyes of yours staring up at him from between his knees, how you’d pull back to press small kisses and kitten licks against his sensitive skin.

The thought has him groaning lightly, a hand coming down to carefully push his boxers down just a hair, just enough to let his cock spring free, slapping heavily against his lower stomach as he bites his lip. He makes sure to settle the waistband just below his balls, a hand idly moving to grope and squeeze as he continues to stare at you. It feels wrong to be touching himself while so close to you, while you’re totally unaware, but he just can’t help it – he’d been furiously pounding away moments ago in his own bed, eyes squeezed shut and flashes of you playing through his mind, but the knowledge eats at him that you’re only a wall away, your pretty body ripe to ogle and fantasize about and right fucking there…

Guilt weighs heavily in the back of his mind, but as he wraps his fist around his base and slowly pulls up, the heaving breath he lets out has the shame creeping to the back of his mind. It’s so much better with you in his sight – he watches the rise and fall of your chest, your breaths and soft and light, matching the pace of his fist with it.

His toes curl and his lip catches between his teeth, the dull, teasing pleasure from such a slow pace making his head tilt back. He stays like this for what feels like hours – his eyes never moving from your sleeping form, his pace matched to your breathing, just simply breathing in deeply and letting his eyes flutter closed as he exhales, the scent of you you you filling his lungs and making him feel dizzy.

Some forty minutes later, Asahi’s breath is hitching, little whimpers and bitten back moans filling the otherwise quiet air, his fist slowly speeding up out of his control, his orgasm slowly building and mounting, his cock so sensitive and hard and wet –

He comes with a strangled, too-loud I love you, his eyes struggling to stay open as he strokes his way through it, his hips bucking up into his fist and cum landing in ropes along his fingers and wrist. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, he’s chanting under his breath, his breathing uneven and labored as he tries his best to be quiet, terrified to wake you up.

You’re still so ethereal in front of him, looking like an angel as he slows his fist to a stop, his entire body trembling at the aftereffects of his orgasm. He swallows heavily, shaking fingers stained with cum reaching out and nearly, barely brushing against the soft skin of your forearm, clenching his teeth tightly at the contact as it sends one last, final push of pleasure through him, a few final beads of cum oozing from his tip and making him whimper your name.

He doesn’t touch you any more than that, scared to wake you up or cross some invisible line of privacy and consent, but thus starts a pattern. He’ll sneak into your room every week or so, spending far too long simply staring at you, moving to every angle imaginable just to see you, to see all of you, all the while furiously pumping his fist, doing his best to bite back every moan because god, what would you say if you saw him?

(He hopes you wouldn’t stop him, that you’d instead berate him for being so dirty, that you’d reach out and stop his wrist, telling him in that lovely, sweet voice of yours to earn it, Asahi, show me that you deserve to come. And god, the fervor and desperation in his movements as he’d lick and suck between your legs is too good to be embarrassing.)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

As a general rule, Asahi absolutely crumbles the moment any sort of positive comment towards him falls from your lips. He’s never been the most confident man on the face of the planet, and while time and a successful career have helped mitigate that a bit, he’s still a bit doubtful about himself, always just slightly insecure and unable to believe in himself.

And for the most part he doesn’t mind, but he always, always appreciates your support in the area of his lacking – declrataion of you being happy or grateful or pleased with him leave Asahi’s throat feeling tight and his palms clammy. But specifically, Asahi has little to no confidence in himself in the bedroom – and to hear you say anything even remotely positive about his skills in bed gets him hot under the collar, the desire to please you making his fingers itch and his pants feel much too tight.

His lack of confidence between the sheets stems from the belief that he’s sure that he won’t be able to satisfy you, that his touch and love won’t be enough to get you off, that you’ll end up just using your own fingers because he just wasn’t good enough.

He’s convinced that you’ll grow to prefer your own touches and ministrations over his own, that you’ll simply sigh and roll your eyes when he asks you in that timid voice if you’d sit on his face, if you’d let him play with you, if you could just please let him taste you, he’s been thinking about it all day…

It’s never ending cycle of negative thoughts and assumptions, always absolutely sure that things will go the worst possible way once he becomes intimate with you, and honestly you’ll quickly pick up on this.

When he’s hovering over you, brown eyes staring wildly down at you, impossibly wide while his mouth opens and closes like a fish, unsure of what to say or do because you’re finally right in front of him, like he’s been dreaming of for months, you’ll notice the way he’s too stiff to move, his every muscle tense and his eyebrows knitted together so tightly that he almost looks like he’s in pain.

(A few soothing words will have him instantly relaxing, though – run your hands up and down his arms, cooing at him that he’s so handsome, that he looks so good over me Asahi, you’re so pretty, and maybe tell him that you’re so excited, you’ve already made me feel so good baby, and you haven’t even touched me yet and you’ll see the way he visibly perks up, embarrassment written across his face but this sort of shy, boyish joy taking over as he leans down and kisses you. The kiss is too sloppy, too needy, too wet, but it’s the push he needs to finally press himself against you, your slick folds against the sensitive underside of his cock making him hiss into the kiss and his arms nearly give out.)

He’s too nervous to try fingering you or eating you out the first time he’s got you naked in front of him, but he also knows that you need prep before you take him, his girth enough to stretch your walls out to a painful degree if you don’t get some aid.

(Take the initiative and guide his fingers down your body, going slow and making all sorts of keening and sighing noises, until he’s finally pressed up against you. Tell him that his fingers feel good when you’re helping him rub slow circles over your clit. Overdo your hips bucking at the sensation just to give him that extra assurance that he’s doing a good job. Gasp his name as he slips a finger inside and purposefully clench down on him, letting him hear you babble on about how he feels so good and he’s so big and he’s exactly what I’ve been imagining… You’ll see the determined purse of his lips, every ounce of concentration going into making you cry out his name, making you squeal out more praise, getting you to gush on his fingers and tongue and give him what he’s been dreaming of for months – the sight of your pretty body convulsing up in an orgasm, your cunt spasming and clenching down on him like a fucking vice.)

Towards the beginning of your sexual relationship you’ll find that more often than not he’s at a standstill, something that is more than obvious to you, and in moments like these it’s best if you just tell him what to do. When you take off your bra, breasts bared for him as he unabashedly stares, his lips parted and his eyes wide, guide his hand to squeeze at one, sighing at the sensation and telling him that it feels good baby, you can go a little harder if you want, too.

When he’s carefully (and almost tentatively) rubbing your back, giving you a massage and doing his best to relieve your back pain without hurting you, moan out his name and tell him right there, god Asahi you’re so good at this. It’ll leave him blushing and squirming, his cock growing hard and suddenly he’s hearing your moans as moans, seeing the pleased expressions on your face as being expressions of pleasure.

You need to follow his every action up with a bit of praise the first few times you fuck – when he slips a finger or two inside, bite your lip and make a show of gasping, telling him that he feels so good, please Asahi, just like that!

When he’s going down on you for the first time, tangle your fingers through his hair and tell him that he’s doing so well, it feels so – so good Asahi, mmm please don’t stop! And when he fucks you for the first time, gasp sharply and moan, tell him that he’s s-s0 big! Stretches me out so good, ngh –

(Asahi has always seemed gentle to you, even after having kidnapped you – tall, sure, but more afraid of his own shadow than anything. But once you moan that out, that gentle man you’re familiar with is gone – you realize just how strong he really is as his hips crash into yours, your cunt stretched and nearly split open with the sheer power and vigor of his thrusts, each one seeming to reach deeper inside of you, coming faster and faster until your moans at all forced, genuine incoherent nonsense slipping from your lips because god, you’ve never been fucked like this before – this fully, this desperately.)

He loves to know that he’s the one making you feel so good, making you cry out and curl your toes. When you say things like ‘so good Asahi’, or ‘yes, just like that’, he’ll become a blushing, flustered mess, but it’ll only drive him even further in his mission to please you, to get you to come.

After all, in his mind, your pleasure is so much more important than his own, and he’ll give you anything and everything he possibly can to get your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your pussy clamping down around him.

His actions will pick up speed and eagerness, and if you weren’t so fucked out while he’s got his tongue against your clit or his cock stretching you out, you’d be able to practically feel the desperation to get you to orgasm rolling off of him in waves.

He just wants to know that what he’s doing is feeling good, that you’re enjoying him, that you’re loving this wonderful intimate moment as much as he is. He loves your vocalness, and it helps his confidence to hear you so openly praising him and his body.

So tell him, while he’s hovering over you, his cheeks flushed, his hair falling in waves over his shoulders and a few beads of sweat rolling down his temples, how big he feels inside of you, how you’re sure that nobody could fuck you like Asahi can, and he’ll make the cutest little gasp, before he’s thrusting into you even harder, burying his face into your neck and chanting your name over and over.

He loves it.

Breeding

But unlike a lot of men, this kink doesn’t stem exclusively from a sense of possessiveness or ownership over you. (Of course, he very much is possessive over you and hates the idea of another man interacting with you, but still.)

Instead, Asahi’s fascination with the concept of breeding you mostly stems from a genuine desire to knock you up. Asahi craves a domestic life with you; the mere idea of being one big, happy family is something that makes his heart melt, that makes him giddy with excitement and an embarrassed flush spread across the bridge of his nose. There’s so many cute, wholesome things that Asahi wants to do with his future children; family pictures, reading to them before bed, dressing them up in his latest fashion designs, making them go eww! when they see Mommy and Daddy kissing…

And when you step into the picture, this natural desire for children only steps up, increasing astronomically because Asahi genuinely believes that you’re his soulmate, the woman he’ll spend the rest of his life with, and he couldn’t be happier.

And while he’d never force it upon you, he really loves the idea of getting you pregnant and giving you the family that you both deserve. He wants to give you the baby he so desperately wants you to have, to see you softly rubbing your tummy and smiling at him, showing the world exactly who you love, who you choose to be with, who you’ll be spending the rest of your life loving and loyally staying alongside. He thinks he’d be a good father, in his oh so humble opinion, and that he’s completely, absolutely sure that you’d be a wonderful mother, and that together the two of you could have a happy, perfect family.

But of course, Asahi is no pure angel saint – he may not be the most possessive over you, but he can’t deny the wonderful side effects that come with pinning you down and breeding you. That is, there’s something about the fact that it’s his cock emptying load after load inside of you that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life.

There’s something about the fact that it’s his name you’re moaning out to finish inside of you that makes him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching and his thighs flexing involuntarily because god, you’d sound so fucking good moaning his name.

The idea that it’s because of him that the cute little bump throwing your body off proportion even exists makes him feral, hands eagerly ripping at your clothes and slotting you in his lap, grasping at your hips and physically bouncing you up and down on his cock until he’s groaning your name and stuffing you full again and again and again, leaving you dripping white and smelling his cum, like him.

He’s not the most possessive yandere, sure, but even Asahi can get behind the idea of marking you as his own, of claiming you in the most natural, animalistic way. It satisfies something deep within him – the same thing that urges him to rush forward and keep you from getting too close to the open flames on the stove, the same thing that urges him to buy the pretty flowers on his way home from work and tuck one behind your ear. He’s never given much stock to gender stereotypes, but it just feels right to have you be his sweet little housewife, to be your big, strong protector, to be your provider in more ways than one.

And while bringing you gifts and keeping a roof over your head and warm food in your stomach are certainly ways he loves to provide for you, he’s more than willing to provide for your more carnal needs, too.

He’s more than happy to fill you to the brim with his cum, the sticky white dribbling out of you in big globs that he pressed back in with a thumb, voice shaky as he jokes about having to buy some sort of a plug just to keep everything inside.

(The next morning you find a pretty, purple plug on your bedside table, Asahi looking sheepish as he tells you that it’s the only way to really be sure, you know? Can’t have you wasting anything…)

He’s more than happy to keep his cock inside of you after he’s come, to make sure you’re plugged up, to keep you laying so that you’re hips are elevated, so that his cum will surely reach your womb, so that your body will have no choice but to give him exactly what he wants.

And during sex, the thoughts racing through Asahi’s head absolutely reinfornce this – as his high approaches, there’s a mantra repeating over and over in his head to come inside her, fuck a baby into her, get her pregnant so she’ll never leave you.

His hips will speed up, the sound absolutely obsene as he throws your legs over his shoulders, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he watches your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts, the mental image of you swollen and round and so fucking fertile leaving his head spinning and oh fuck fuck fuck –

He’s coming with a whine of your name, burying his face into your neck and grasping tightly onto your breast, chanting your name under his breath and pressing himself just a bit deeper inside, anything to try and increase the chances of it taking.

The idea of knocking you up clouds his senses as his hips plow into you, the sensation so overwhelming that he’s nearly crying, but fat tears welling up and streaming down his face to land on your own while he clutches onto your hand, the emotional end of realizing that he might get you pregnant hitting him at full speed and making him dizzy with desire and love.

He’ll oftentimes whisper sweet nothings about how beautiful you’ll look, how much he wants to give you children, how deeply he wants to come inside while his hips are pounding away, practically ramming into your cervix with each powerful, passionate thrust.

He loves the idea of having a baby with you, and it’s just an added bonus that giving it to you feels so good.

Size kink

No matter your size, Asahi will be taller, stronger, bigger.

He’s six feet tall, muscular, and despite his timid disposition, he’s very much a force to be reckoned with. Despite transitioning to a career less focused on physical prowess, Asahi largely retained his physique.

He’s a little softer now, the muscles covered by a small layer of fat, but he’s still got definition lining every inch of his body, the short-sleeved t-shirts he wears doing very little to hide the outline of his biceps. When his shirt rides up as he pulls his hair back into its signature bun, it’s impossible to miss the way he seems to tower over everything and everything, his presence something commanding the room, making everyone else just feel so small.

And while none of it is on purpose, Asahi slowly notices with time just how pronounced this difference is.

He sees it in the way that your palms compare as he timidly snake his hand against yours, swallowing heavily and avoiding eye contact because god, not only are your hands soft and warm, they’re practically engulfed by his, the sight making something scratch at the back of his throat.

He sees it in the way that your arms just barely wrap around his torso when you hug him, your fingers lacing together. (Of course, this took him a very long time to notice – he was too flustered by the fact that you’re hugging him to really notice any details, and even then he’d been too preoccupied by the feeling of your clothed breasts pressing against his chest, willing everything in himself to not get hard, to not let the blood rush to his cock as he imagines the way your legs would feel wrapped around his waist.)

As time passes, Asahi discovers that not only is he noticing these things, but there’s something about the sight that gets him hot under the collar, his breathing more strained than usual and his voice coming out a bit crackly.

And really, this kink stems from his protectiveness of you and his need to feel like your savior, but there’s just something about having you underneath him, seeing how small your body is in comparison to his own that really gets to him.

The idea of you being a fraction of his size, of your body being so much cuter, tinier, and softer than his own is something that makes Asahi blush, the red spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his collarbone, the idea that you’re such opposites yet so perfect for one another simultaneously warming his heart and begging him to fuck you because he just loves you so much.

And while your size difference is something that Asahi has always rationally known about, it’s so much different to actually see it, to be physically forced to recognize that he’s just so big compared to you.

When you’re naked below him, looking up at him with those vulnerable, beautiful eyes while you clutch the pillow underneath your head and shakily swallow, Asahi is hit with the sudden realization that you so clearly need him, need his help to do everything, and that includes turning you into a panting, drooling mess with his fingers, tongue and cock.

He loves the foreign surge of dominance he feels, how powerful and manly it makes him feel to see you under him, looking up at him like that, your lips swollen and puffy from kissing and biting them, from enjoying the pleasure he’s so focused on delivering to you.

He loves watching you take his cock; how it stretches you out to the point where you’re tensed up, fisting the sheets and telling him to slow down because you need time to adjust to his massive length.

(Of course, Asahi immediately stops, panic eating away at him because what if he hurt you? There’s not a sadistic bone in his body, and when you have to tell him things like that it only reminds him how easily he gets lost in you, how quickly he succumbs to the carnal urge to just fuck you so hard that you’re screaming his name and showing everyone exactly who owns the tight little pussy he’s fucking and filling with his cum.)

He loves to intertwine his fingers with yours while he thrusts into you, marveling at how his fingers dwarf your own while his cock stretches you out so fully, so completely that it’s almost visible against the skin of your navel.

He’ll purposefully fuck you in positions that really showcase this difference in size, too – of course his favorite is missionary, getting to look at you while he slowly rolls his hips into yours, but there’s something exquisite about folding you into a mating press, too. The way he’s strong enough to practically force your ankles up to your ears, his entire body hovering over yours as he pounds into you, watching the way you seize up because the angle is just so fucking deep.

It’s not his favorite, but he’ll fuck you from behind, the position slowly morphing from doggy into prone bone as he becomes more and more desperate for you, soon laying almost completely on top of you while his hips stutter into yours, the sensation of warm cum flooding you and the feeling of Asahi in every inch of your space making your head spin.

Even non-penetrative positions have this effect on him – watching you settle between his legs and eagerly jerk him off gets him clutching onto the nearest surface, the sight of your fingers, so small and sweet and pretty compared to his own, making his knees feel weak because fuck you’re so delicate compared to him.

And god, your mouth? It’s over for him the moment that your lips wrap around his tip, the sight of a much-too-big cock forcing its way down your throat threatening to bring him to orgasm much, much too soon.

Every part of him is bigger, and he just loves how obvious his muscles and height make it that he’s the protector in the relationship, that he’s the one providing for you, keeping you safe, keeping you happy.

Because after all, he’d do anything to keep you happy.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Hair pulling

Quite honestly, Asahi’s not sure where this kink came from. His scalp has always been a bit sensitive, his hair silky and in remarkably good shape for little he brushes it, for how poorly he cares for it. And while he’s kept it long for all of his adult life, he’s still just the slightest bit insecure about being a man with long hair – the lingering stares of others making him slump his shoulders a bit, wishing they’d stop staring.

And so, he’s never really viewed his hair as something sexual – no girl has ever really pulled it, and on the rare occasions when he’s touched himself, a hand never manages to travel north of his chest.

And even on the more practical side of things, he’s never really been one for pain, for enjoying the stinging sensation of sharpness against his skin, of feeling the dull throb of a bruise being pressed on. He’s never really found it to be sexy, and by extension he’s never bothered to explore hair pulling.

But then he becomes intimate with you and as he’s kissing you, tongue tracing the shape of your teeth and moaning into your mouth he feels it –

Your nails scraping against his scalp, digging in and grabbing a fistful of hair, pulling and tugging.

He actually moans, the sound high and whiny and so girly it nearly makes him cry, but he can’t help but beg you to do it again, a hand coming up to secure your place against his scalp.

There’s just something about the your fingers tunnel into his hair, gripping the brown locks between your nimble fingers while his tongue works fast, desperate circles against your clit, his fingers curling and arching just the way you told him to. Every tug at his hair drives him to work harder, to suck harder and lick faster because he just wants to please you, and the way you’re mixing pain with pleasure is making his hips buck against the mattress, unable to control himself as he whines against your cunt.

When your nails lightly scrape against his scalp, Asahi can’t help but close his eyes and moan, the vibrations going straight up your spine as he doubles his efforts, wanting to get you to come to an almost unhealthy degree.

And yet, as your hands pull harder, coaxing him into fingerfucking you harder, moving in the specific motion against your clit he knows you love, all you can do is throw your hair back and moan, little gasps of oh Asahi, oh please – I’m so close, don’t stop!

There’s something about the light touch of pain that makes him shiver, that makes the excitement stand up at the back of his neck, his eyes growing dilated and his efforts even more vigorous because fuck, you deserve to come, and by god is Asahi going to be the man to do it.

It’s become a staple of him giving you head – you always burrow your fingers into the loose, flowing brown locks, pulling him ever closer to your sopping cunt, something Asahi couldn’t be happier about.

And if you really want to leave him a flustered, panting mess, lightly tug at his hair without any warning in a non-sexual context – reach over during breakfast and give a light tug and you’ll see in real time as his face turns red, gaping like a fish and letting a hand drop his fork and wander down to his crotch, the table covering his motions. (Though the sound of a zipper slowly undoing is hardly difficult to identify, nor is the way the slick, clicking noises echo through the room as he shakily tells you to f-finish your breakfast…)

Lingerie

Perhaps it’s a result of his heightened attention paid to fashion, or perhaps it’s just Asahi’s nature, but as his infatuation with you develops, so too does his desire to see you all dressed up for him.

He doesn’t view you as a doll, per se, but Asahi finds that one of his guiltiest pleasures is to put you in clothing he designs specifically for you – pretty colors and cuts he thinks accentuate your curves, always sucking in a sharp breath and muttering out this awed, overtly genuine wow that makes you too embarrassed to respond.

And it’s sweet, more than anything, because the dresses and outfits he creates for you really are flattering – except that as your sexual relationship develops, he starts taking certain liberties, his creations becoming more and more risqué.

The lingerie he designs for you is tasteful, at least – it’s flattering as well, always in shades of pinks, reds, and white to enhance your natural coloring, his fingers always trembling when he helps you put them on, catching a bit of lace between his thumb and index finger and sighing out your name in a tone much too airy to be normal.

You look absolutely stunning – and he finds that fucking you with the lingerie still decorating your body only makes his kisses more heartfelt, longer, more needy because you’re just so damn pretty all dressed up and practically wrapped up like a gift for him.

But really, where’s Asahi’s true lingerie kink lies is not in you wearing it, but rather in him wearing it.

It’s beyond embarrassing to him and something that would take a long time for him to admit, but there’s a certain part of him that would actually like to try on a few of the lingerie sets he sees in magazines, tv and social media. Some of them are just so fucking pretty, soft pastels with lots of lace and ruffles, things that scream feminine and soft, pretty and fuckable.

And while Asahi knows he’s supposed to be the ‘man’ in the relationship, it’s a guilty pleasure that he just can’t shake – and so, when you one day catch him staring at an ad for a brand new baby blue two piece set on his phone, you ask him if he’s going to get it, cocking a brow at him because it’s rare for him to ever buy you lingerie sets rather than make them himself.

(He’d told you once that he can fit them to your body better than any manufacturer can. And what he hadn’t told you is that there’s a certain allure to knowing that you’re wearing something that he made you, not some unknown, random worker with no appreciation for you or your beauty.)

Immediately Asahi is scrambling to cover it up, nervously chuckling and denying your words, but when it shows up the next day and Asahi mumbles if you’d be willing to um, give me an opinion about something, you’re intrigued. And as you open the door to reveal him, familiar brown eyes are unable to meet your own gaze, his body language clearly nervous at your scrutiny.

But really, the sight of the six foot tall, burly man clad in the soft material hugging his body and bringing out the natural tan color of his skin leaves you oddly breathless, the sight strangely bizarre and erotic.

The bra cups are a bit loose, though you can still see his pretty, pink nipples hard as a rock underneath the sheer material. The bra may be loose, but the pair of lacy, red panties most certainly are not – his cock threatens to burst out of it at any moment, his balls hanging on by a thread to stay inside of the dainty fabric.

And when you take a few steps forward, looking at him with wide eyes, he feels his heart drop when you say oh Asahi, you’re so beautiful.

(If you look closely enough, you can see his balls visibly clench at the compliment, the skin angry and red at the tightness of the panties.)

So while it’s not the manliest thing, Asahi can’t deny that it makes him feel good, and you’re always so touchy and sweet when he’s wearing it.

And so when he’s in more of a submissive mood, wanting you to take care of him, dote on him, love him and show him that you’re just as desperate and hopelessly in love as he is, he throws it on and sits patiently on the bed, waiting with baited breath for you to pull the strap out and make him feel like a good little boy.

(And god his moans are pretty, his little gasps and whines when you toy with the fabric making you power-hungry, the sight of his cute little hole clenching as you toy with him, bent over and panties pushed to the side is the stuff of fantasies – he’s just so fucking obedient when he’s all dressed up for you.)

BIGGEST FANTASY:

Going hand in hand with his breeding kink and his want of starting a family with you, Asahi has a few guilty pleasures when it comes to the idea of a pregnant you.

He just can’t help it – his biggest domestic fantasy is having a family with you, and every time he sees a pregnant woman out and about something inside of him just snaps, the flood of images of you all knocked up making his knees nearly buckle.

(Of course, in these images you’re sometimes clothes and sometimes not – the clothes, when included, are always too small, making your breasts look even bigger and your stomach ever rounder.)

Something about the roundness of your body, how your curves are enhanced, how you look so fucking fertile really gets to him, especially with how your breasts begin to swell.

Something about watching as your nipples begin to darken, your areolas get larger, and the way the flesh begins to hang heavier, looking so full and ready to be emptied really gets to him, sparking some odd, primal instinct in him that he didn’t even know he had.

He’s staring constantly, brown eyes darting to the way his t-shirts are stretched taut against your belly bump and engorged breasts, how you look so perfect and domestic and like a real mother.

He’ll be much too shy to say anything, too nervous at your rejection of the fantasy he holds close to his heart, but he really wants nothing more than to just latch onto a leaking, aching nipple, wrap his lights tightly around it, circle his tongue over the sensitive skin, and suck.

He wants to taste you; feel the white liquid against his tongue, nurse off of you in such a human, natural way.

He almost feels as if it’s his reward - he put the baby inside of you that’s causing you to produce, he’s the one heading to work everyday, making money to bring back to you and your slowly growing family.

He’s the one that spent hours between your legs, fingering your pretty cunt and giving you load after load after load of hot, potent cum.

He’s your protector, and it’s his deepest fantasy to be rewarded for all his hard work with your breastmilk. He’ll never, ever admit it, but when he fondles your breasts and nibbles at them, sucking at them with a vigor you’ve never experienced before, those are the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I’m home!” Asahi calls, closing the front door and letting out a small, satisfied sigh at the sight of his little home. Touches of your style are everywhere - the couch has your favorite color throw pillows, your favorite art is on the walls, pictures of the two of you hanging in frames on the shelf above the fireplace on the far side of the living room. It makes him smile, something warm and fuzzy settling in his chest.

He slips his shoes off, shrugging off his coat and venturing further into the house. Normally you’d be in the kitchen by now, preparing dinner and wanting to have a nice meal while the two of you discussed your days, telling one another how much you missed the other. When he doesn’t find you in the kitchen, his brow arches and he calls your name once more, a small pang of panic bolting through him at the thought of you not responding.

“Oh! You’re home!” He hears you exclaim from behind him, and heaves out a small sigh of relief. He turns around with a soft smile on his face, but that smile vanishes as soon as he takes in your appearance.

You’re wearing one of his old tee shirts, the material a bit light and comfortable, and a pair of your favorite panties peeking out from under the hem. You look so fucking pretty that it takes him a moment to register your words, brown eyes dilating and focusing on the sight of you in his shirt, the smooth expanse of your thighs, the smile on your face that gets his knees weak. But as he takes in the full sight of you, something else catches his eye – immediately saliva is pooling against his tongue, his fingers twitching and his tongue flicking out to lick over his lips.

Two small, uneven pools of wet form right over the swell of your breasts, staining the fabric a darker shade and making his mouth water slightly. The sight of your chest straining heavily against the shirt has him taking a step forward hastily, aching to get closer and closer.

You notice his staring, and you scratch the back of your neck a bit awkwardly. “Welcome home, love. Sorry, I was just about to go start pumping but the laundry had me busy. I lost track of time.”

He just nods, not able to take his gaze away from you. You blink, before quirking the corner of your lips up. Although your husband had never asked, you’d noticed his affinity for your chest increasing tremendously after you’d begun lactating - he thought he was smooth when he’d oh so innocently walk in on you with your pump, watching your milk fill up the bottle, but you knew better. The fixation in his eyes as he stared was telling, the way he’d play with his hands and fingers, struggling to keep eye contact with you making it oh so apparent. And so, with a confidence that only he could allow you to develop over the years, you realize that maybe it was alright that you hadn’t started dinner quite yet.

You bite your lip and slowly walk up to him, until you’re close enough to hear the slight wheeze in his breaths. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob as his eyes dart between your face and your breasts, trying to decide where to look. You almost laugh. “Asahi...I have an idea, if you’d be willing to try it out.”

His gaze meets yours with a bit of reluctance, and his brows tighten. “S-sure! What did you have in mind?”

You smile, leaning up on your tippy toes and placing a kiss against his cheek. “Well, since I haven’t started dinner yet, and I didn’t get to start pumping, and you’ve been gone all day, working hard and making me proud, I think you deserve a little reward.”

Asahi visibly flushed at this, and his eyes widened a bit. “A reward? What do you mean?”

You bite your lip, reaching out to take one of his large hands into your own, before carefully placing it over one of your breasts. He gasps sharply, his entire body tensing as he feels the wetness underneath his palm. You look up at him, doing your best to give him as seductive and sultry a look as you can muster.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe I could give you a little treat? As a thank you for everything that you do for me. It’s been waiting all day, and I’m so, so full… would you like that? Do you want a little snack as a reward?” You ask, watching his reaction carefully. His brown eyes are so warm, so genuinely shocked, and for a second you almost wonder if he’ll say no, or push you away. But before you can take back your words, he’s eagerly nodding, walking you backwards into the living room and settling you down into a sitting position on the couch. He crouches below you, on his knees in between your legs, still in the nice clothes he’d worn to work today. You grab the hem of your shirt, carefully lifting it over you and throwing it to some unknown part of the room. The cold air hits you, and you feel your nipples harden and the skin of your breasts tighten up.

Asahi lets out a mix between a moan and a whimper at the sight of your bare chest, staring in awe with his mouth open. When you see him not moving, you carefully reach your hands up, cupping your breasts and gently squeezing, causing a small stream of milk to leak out of each nipple.

“Darling, don’t you want your reward?” You ask, squeezing extra hard, sending a spurt of liquid out, his eyes following the arc as he licks his lips.

Asahi gulps, a low growl escaping him as he gently pulls your hands away, instead latching his mouth around a nipple and sucking -

You sigh softly, the feeling of his lips applying pressure and his tongue swiping over your nipple much more erotic than you had been expecting. His lips work against you, tongue swirling against your sensitive areolas as his cheeks hollow. He moans against you, the taste of you overwhelming his senses and setting his body alight with pleasure. He can feel his pants growing uncomfortably tight, but he just sucks harder, listening to your coos and cries above him.

His hand reaches out to cup your other breast, squeezing a bit more firmly and watching the milk leak, before he leans back, releasing the nipple from his mouth with a popping sound, and squeezes once more, harshly, watching as a stream of milk arcs through the air and directly into his parted, awaiting mouth. You both moan, and he swallows. He rubs his fingers over your nipples, and looks up at you, licking his lips.

“I think it’s time you showed me just how good you taste down here, too.” He says, grinding his clothed erection against your crotch. You moan, nodding your head and tangling your fingers into his hair, watching his eyes flutter closed at the sensation.

�� And, thirty minutes later as he’s pulling out of you, hissing slightly at the overstimulation, Asahi can only pant, a hand once again coming up to lightly squeeze at your breast, the kiss he gives you heated enough to have you melting against the mattress, too relaxed to even notice the way he pushes himself back in again, gasping into your mouth and pushing through the overstimulation because he needs this, needs you.

After all, he can never get enough of you.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere asahi #yandere asahi azumane #haikyuu smut #_haikyuu #_asahi azumane #_lee's profiles

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judesmoonbeauty · 1 month ago

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A Day in the Life Of Jude Jazza: A Look That Only His Lover Knows: Sneak Peak

Please Note: Since the sneak peek jumps around a lot, some of these lines will most likely change once chapters are fully translated with proper context. This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Just before the sun rose, I returned to my room and saw Kate sleeping on the bed.

Jude: …..Lookin’ mighty happy as she sleeps, so what’s the princess dreamin’ ‘bout?

When I pulled Kate close to me, her warmth lulled me to sleep in an instant,

Jude: I’m exhausted…..

Jude: [Yawn]….’Mornin’ Kate.

A morning greeting in the same bed.

While grabbing lunch, he stuffed his dessert in my mouth one bite after another…..

Jude: Kate.

Kate: Yeah, ommph.

Jude: Ya finished off dessert for two, so ya work t’make up for it, yeah?

(Oh, he’s thinking about Kate right now.)

A side to him that I don’t even know is told from Ellis’ perspective.

(Jude probably doesn’t notice)

When he thinks of Kate, his expression becomes softer.

(Dammit….why’d we meet?)

In the middle of the raid, the image of my boyfriend flickered in my mind, so I finished up quickly and went to meet him, but

Kate: Welcome back, Jude.

(This’s how I feel when gettin’ disappointed.)

It felt like all the poison had been extracted from me, and even though I was shocked, I called out to him.

Jude: Go home.

At the end of the day, we spent some sweet and somewhat heart-wrenching time as lovers.

Jude: How laid back. I’ll make sure ya don’t do somethin’ cheeky like that.

I’m being tortured, teased, tied together, and I feel like I may drown in this but,

Jude: I’ll do it.

I was once again cursed with a beautiful necklace adorning my neck-

Jude: Don’t worry, I’ll cherish ya all properly like.

In the Deep Love LVMAX bonus, a special story that is a continuation of the cumulative bonus is told from his perspective.

Jude: Toldja.

Leaning over her from above, I put my lips close to her ear,

Jude: I’ll cherish ya all proper like.

The night of drowning pleasure continues.

(Such a thin stomach….get stabbed ‘n you’d probably die instantly)

At first glance, Kate, who’s meddlesome, earnest, and refuses to give up, may not seem like the moon.

Jude: But, yer like the moonlight t’me.

Even though I wanted to give up on everything, but I couldn’t end it, so my life continued festering unable to go back.

Your existence is like a gentle beam of light offering guidance in the darkness.

Jude: If ya don’t shine properly, I won’t be able to reach ya.

This is the story of a day in the life of Jude Jazza.

Dividers: @.natimiles

[Event Master List]

#ikevil #ikevil translations #ikevil jude #jude jazza #jude jazza translations

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 10 months ago

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I'll Show You Just How Sad I Am

a raymond smith x reader quick little blurb, just 1k words

there's mentions of smut in this so read at your own risk <33 who knows, maybe raymond will make a more regular occurrence on my blog over the next few weeks

here's my masterlist in case you want to check out my other works

"Should be the door to your left, honey."

Your voice is sweet in his ear, a pleasant distraction from the run-down building Mickey had sent him off to. It's smelly and dirty and even though he knows he should most likely feel pity, he's still just as disgusted. He'd be with you in a heartbeat if he could, safe and clean in the comfort of your home.

"Mickey should've sent a cleaning lady", he grunts as he knocks at the door, your chuckle almost making up for the very truthful, thinly veiled anger behind his words.

"Mickey wanted you because you're the best", you recite - you've told him often enough by now that it really is reciting. "And because he trusts you to keep this clean."

Which is easier said than done.

Twenty minutes later, the whole thing's anything but clean.

Sure, he'd very much accomplished bringing Laura home - but he'd also left a dead teenager in a puddle of blood about two stories down from where he should've been sitting.

"Left, left!", you call into the mic. Even though you're far from panicking, you're still much too loud, your voice flowing from his earpiece and stinging his brain.

"I'm trying, darling", he grunts back, breathless and panting as he pushes on, one foot in front of the other on the pavement of some random South London streets.

"I know, I know", you sigh. He isn't sure whether he's actually hearing you chew on your lip or imagining it, but he doesn't really have the capacity to think too much about it at the moment. "He's right in front of you. You've got him, Ray."

Yeah... The only problem is that what you must be seeing as a moving, flashing dot on a digital map, he's seeing as a bunch of teenagers trying to look intimidating. Probably feeling intimidating too. God, this is exactly why he didn't want the job. He isn't made for the fucking low-classed youth.

"You've seen enough?", that bastard of a boy spits at him. "Now I've got backup."

Raymond steadies his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath in.

"You couldn't back up a phone, you cunt", he rasps, his erratic heartbeat slowly starting to calm back down.

"Raymond", you scold. "That's a child."

"That's a bastard", he mutters, before he finally straightens and tries his best at a somewhat mannered bargain. He's really only here for the fucking phone. He needs those pictures, then he's gone. He doesn't want to leave more unnecessary corpses to take care of.

So he offers them money. Which is something that they should definitely take, just judging by how they look. Plus a visit to a very good psychiatrist. But they don't. It's the same fucking bastard who's taken the pictures in the first case and got him into this mess that refuses - and in such a really stupid way, too: "How 'bout you give us that bag and be gone anyway?" - god, even you let out a choked up laugh at that, your breath carrying through the mic and into Ray's earpiece.

He drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head. What a fucking bunch of idiots. Goddamn it. He can feel his blood boil, hot and hotter.

"It's bait", you mutter, your voice low. "Calm down, love. You've got a machine gun. Use it."

Yeah, fucking hell, it's bait, he knows that. It doesn't change the way he's feeling. But your voice in his ear at least brings him back down to reality.

"Right", he grunts, then he swipes his coat to the side, closes his hand around the grip of the gun and steadies his fingertips against the trigger. He pulls it out in one swift motion, points it at the sky and shoots. For a good three seconds longer than necessary.

"Just like that", you breathe, your grin dripping down onto your voice and melting into his ear like honey. You've really got to stop that, he actually loses his focus for half a moment there and in his line of work, next time that means sure death.

The entire bunch of teenage boys flees - as expected - and in less than a minute, Raymond has the phone pressed into his palm.

"God, sometimes I really hate that I'm not there", you sigh, something in the background ruffling, probably as you shift into a more comfortable position on your chair. "Kinda wish I could've seen you."

"Run after a little cunt like that? You didn't miss anything, darling", he says, turning his head left and right before he strides back towards the car, his steps long and purposeful.

"Turn the corner here", you mutter, your voice taking on that specific tone that tells him there's a lazy grin licking at your lips. He can just imagine how you're looking (especially now that he has the time and freedom of mind for it) - one foot propped up on those bar stools that you'd bought for the kitchen, your equipment organised on the table top in front of you, his shirt hanging from your shoulders and pooling in your lap, your head tilted back and your eyes half-closed as you talk to him.

"I don't mean the little idiot", you go on, undeterred even as he narrowly avoids a trash can. Fuck, you really distract him too much. "I'm talking about you. God, you sounded so hot I wanted to jump at you. Actually scratch that, I still do."

He lets out a chuckle as he spots the car, his steps slowing. He should hurry up, he knows that. But he's got you in his ear, talking in that sweet voice of yours about just how much he affects you. He can't pass up on that.

"You're a little fuckin' minx, darling", he mutters with a grin, throwing a glance over his shoulder to check if there's any possibility he could be overheard. He doesn't necessarily feel like making your conversation public, even as you hum into the microphone.

"Yeah, but yours", you mumble. It sounds like you're almost proud of that. "Here's an idea, love: Get back home before I finish my shower and I'll show you just how sad I am that I couldn't watch you."

#x reader #raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #the gentlemen #the gentlemen x reader #the gentlemen netflix #raymond smith the gentlemen

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syerra-637 · 8 months ago

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𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Tw : Yandere behavior,toxic relationships, social isolation, emotional manipulation, invasion of privacy Genre: Angst Word count: 795 A/n: I wrote it for fem reader

You are a writer specializing in fanfictions about fictional celebrities, and your Tumblr account is starting to attract attention. Your style is sharp, sometimes dark, with touches of black humor.

One night, Adrian Blackwood, a renowned actor, stumbles upon one of your fanfictions during a bout of insomnia. The precision of your descriptions and the raw emotion in your words captivate him.

Adrian begins to anonymously follow your blog. Each new post becomes an obsession, and he stays up late to read your new stories. He discovers your Twitter and Instagram accounts, following you under fake profiles to keep up with your daily life and intimate thoughts shared online.

Adrian sends you a private message on Tumblr under a pseudonym, complimenting the depth of your writing and the accuracy of your insights. You respond politely, flattered by the attention from this mysterious reader. A regular correspondence begins, brightening your days with his words.

After weeks of correspondence, Adrian reveals his identity in a long, passionate message, confessing how much your words have touched and changed him. You are shocked and incredulous, but also deeply touched that a celebrity of his caliber could be your secret admirer.

Adrian insists on meeting you in person. He sends you an invitation to a VIP event where he knows you can talk privately. At your first meeting, Adrian is even more charismatic in person. His presence is mesmerizing, and you feel immediately drawn to him.

You sit nervously at the reserved table in the chic restaurant, casting furtive glances at the door. Every clink of glasses makes you jump, your heart pounding. When he finally enters, a magnetic aura seems to surround him. Adrian Blackwood, in the flesh, smiles at you with a warmth that melts all your apprehensions. "You are even more lovely in person," he says softly, taking your hand to place a light kiss on it. His deep blue eyes seem to read you, deciphering every emotion with unsettling precision.

Quickly, Adrian begins to show signs of possessiveness. He insists that you disable comments on your posts to "protect you from unnecessary criticism." He calls you several times a day, pretending to be concerned about you. He asks for photos to prove where you are and with whom.

Adrian starts sending expensive gifts to your home: designer clothes, jewelry, and even electronic devices to enhance your comfort. He proposes that you quit your job to dedicate yourself fully to writing, promising to meet all your financial needs.

When you express your concerns about his intrusive behavior, Adrian wraps you in his arms, murmuring reassuring words. "I just want to protect you, my love. No one understands how precious you are to me." His tender gestures and soothing voice make you doubt your own feelings, and you begin to believe that his intense love is normal.

You wake up in an unfamiliar room, the curtains drawn to let in a faint ray of light. Your head spins slightly as you try to recall how you got there. The door opens softly, and Adrian enters with a breakfast tray. "Good morning, my darling," he says with a sweet smile, placing the tray before you. "I found you exhausted last night. I thought you needed to rest." A shiver runs down your spine. "Adrian… I don't remember coming here… " "Don't worry," he murmurs, caressing your cheek. "I'll take care of everything."

Adrian subtly uses his celebrity status to isolate you from your friends and family. He invites you to exclusive events where you are the only person he seems to really see. He convinces you that no one understands you as well as he does and that your creativity will thrive better without outside distractions.

This story can take several directions: you might try to escape from this toxic relationship with the help of loved ones, or you might sink deeper into this unhealthy dependence, unable to break free from Adrian's grip.

You walk quickly down the street, casting worried glances over your shoulder. Every silhouette seems suspicious, every shadow a threat. You have finally decided to flee, to free yourself from Adrian's stifling hold. Suddenly, a firm hand grabs your arm, pulling you into a dark alley. You struggle, but his grip is too strong. "I told you, you can't escape me," Adrian whispers in your ear, his voice soft but menacing. "You belong to me."

Adrian strengthens his hold on you, using his fame to constantly monitor you, even hiring private detectives to follow you. Your world shrinks to him, every decision you make influenced by his obsessive love. You are caught between the allure of his affection and the desperate desire to regain your freedom.

#rich yandere #yandere x reader #Yandere celebrity #yandere actor x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere x darling #x reader

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romanarose · 14 days ago

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Puck Bunny

Hockey player!Tommy Miller x Puck bunny!reader

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: You're gonna make Tommy yours

Warnings: Fingering, leg humping, fucked with a foregein object <3, ass slapping.

Please consider reblogging to spread it!

A/N first time writing Tommy with no Joel!

Shout out to @sweetlummie and @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for encouraging me!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

He didn’t know it, but the new rookie for Texas Stars skating around below you was going to be your boyfriend.

Tommy Miller was an often underlook member of the team, but those who knew what they were talking about saw his potential, saw the way he moved with grace despite his large build, how he kept calm under pressure, his speed and his aim. He just needed… encouragement. While all the other girls went for the men with more play time, whose sports trading cards posted more goals, or who were already names among any hockey fan, you had your eyes set on him.

It wasn’t like he didn’t get attention from girl; of course he did, he was beautiful. Kind eyes and the most profoundly sparkling smile you’d ever seen, all framed in dark curls.

He practiced alone, sentenced to hours of grueling routines to make up for his little fumble today while his teammates were out partying with girls or at home fucking their wives. It wasn’t fair that he got punished. Harold was the one who tried to pass it to Tommy when Jake was wide fucking open! Tommy did his best with what he was given, which was a not-clear shot and when he took it, he missed. Trailing only one point behind, the buzzer went off and Tommy was blamed for losing the game.

Skidding to a stop, Tommy looked up at the near empty bleachers where you sat. He touched his finger to his helmet and tipped his head. Such a cowboy, you thought, and we went on practicing.

The locker door slamming signaled where he was at, and you give a little courtesy knock at the entrance.

“C’in.” Tommy calls, probably assuming you’re a teammate or coach, or even staff.

“Yuh decent?”

Whatever he was expecting, when he turned around his face indicated it wasn’t you.

“Oh. Howdy, ma’am?” Tommy’s voice inflected up at the end, sounding more like a question than a greeting. Still, you lean against the doorway and admire the view.

Even cuter up close, you admire. Little freckles sprinkled his face, and his smile was so boyish and cute your heart fluttered.

“I uh… I seen you ‘round.” He repeated your name, and it made you happy to know he knew it. That meant he’d asked about you. You and Tommy talked a few times, mostly in groups, but you’d never been introduced. “What’cha do’n here so late? Pretty little thing like you gotta have a nice young man wait’n at home for yuh?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not yet, anyway. Wasn’t think’n ‘bout tryna change that.”

Pink flushed his skin, but his smile grew. “Is that so, sweet thing? Do I got myself a little puck bunny on my hands?”

You push yourself off the wall, a spring in your step as you bound towards him.Hands clasped behind your back, you gaze up at him with big eyes. Fuck, his shadow just swollowed you up. “Nothing you aren’t used to, I’m sure.”

“Been around a time or two, I won’t lie…” A large, LARGE hand reached out to cup your face and you can’t help but squeal. As your little plans were happening. “None quite as cute as the little bunny I got in front of me, though.”

Taking a little initiative, you pressed yourself up against his red jersey. He smells like sweat and the metallic air of an ice rink. His body was firm against you. “Want you to fuck me.” You blurt out, and the sultry look on his face breaks into a wide grin.

“That’s why you break’n into my locker room?”

You nod. He leans closer.

“Well, how can I say no to such a pretty little bunny?”

His mouth crashes into you, shoving you right up against the locker doors with a rattling crash as his hands paw all over you. Tommy dwarfs you, his wide shoulders and barrel chest completely caging you in. The force of his kisses and powerful presence is so much so you’d feel trapped if you weren’t so fucking turned on. Hands down your pants, Tommy bites hard at your lip and sucks on it to ease the pain as he fiddles with your cunt.

“Wet already?” He teases, smirk pressed against your skin.

“I- I was thinking about you… while I watched…” You moan against him bucking your hand against Tommy’s fingers as they teased your entrance.

“So eager… Tell me, Bunny, how come I got so lucky to find you in my locker, not one of my teammates? Chance?”

You want his long fingers inside you so bad, sweating from the teasing enough you don’t even feel the chill of the air. “Tommyyyy, please!”

“Talk to me, bebita. I won’t be mad if I just happened to be who was here tonight, promise.”

“No! No, Tommy, you’re special… you’re gonna be a star, I just know it…”

When you glance up at him, you expect to see a smirk. Instead, his face is soft. “You really think that?”

Quickly, you nod. “I’d put money on it. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever seen…”

“Fuck-” Suddenly he’s finger fucking you, the wet squelch of your cunt echoing around you, about filth filling the locker room. “Gonna treat you so good, pretty baby. So fuck’n good.” It’s then you realize he’s humping against you, hard cock grinding against your thigh

Your hands grip his huge forearms, searching for purchase and stability as he drew you closer to orgasm. Tommy sucked deep into your neck, sure to leave a mark you’d proudly display. You were taken. Tommy was gonna be yours. Yeah, you were hooking up right now and it wasn’t a commitment, it wasn’t a proclamation of love but it was a start.

“Cum for me, bunny.” Tommy’s voice was tight, tense...

And you did. You’d do anything he wanted. Waves of pleasure crash around you, clenching down hard on his three fingers and crying out his name as he muttered curses against your ear. Little moans escaped his mouth as he too came, cuming only from humping your leg and finger fucking you cunt. Your knees went weak, melting into jelly but Tommy caught you.

He bent you down and over the bench, stomach pressed to the cool wood and your ass and pussy on clear display in the harsh LED lights.

Panting, Tommy kneels down next to you; not before you can see a wet spot in his uniform.

“Think…” He pants. “Think you can take more?”

Smiling, you turn to look at him. “Does the phrase fuck like rabbits mean nothing to you?”

He laughs at that, calling you a good girl and kisses your forehead.

Still, you nod to where his erection is gone, already wasting his seed in his pants. “You gonna get hard for me again already, pretty boy?”

A chuckles as he reaches around you, walking on his knees to get a good look from behind. “Not quite, bunny…” A tsk, tsk, tsk from his mouth as he stares at your vulnerable position. “Such a pretty little cunt… it’d be shame to leave it all put together, huh?”

You didn’t know what he had planned and you didn’t care. “Yeah, it would.”

Cool plastic hits your wet cunt and you gasp.

The hockey stick.

“Gonna take real good care of you…” Tommy mutters, planting a kiss to your ass. “And then I’m gonna take you on a real fuck’n date, that sound good?”

Oh, things are coming together nicely. “Yes Tommy. Sounds real nice.”

“Good girl.”

And then all you could feel was your cunt being spread open. It was slow, careful but still an agonizing split.

“Ooooh shit!” You moan, and despite the ache you push yourself back against him to take it further. It was delicious, it was wrong, and you were 100% willing to humiliate yourself for Tommy… but it didn’t feel humiliating. It felt good. It felt good because you felt full, it felt good because you could hear Tommy’s grin as he praised you. He began to fuck you with it, the handle going as far up as it could and you grip the bench you’re knelt against to try and hold onto reality and you come barrelling towards your orgasm again.

*Smack!*

Tommy slapped your ass just to watch it jiggle.

“Fuck! Fuck you’re perfect… my bunny. My perfect bunny…”

Wrapping an arm around you, Tommy plays with your clit and that's the beginning of the end for you.

“Tommy!” You scream his name, hearing it bounce down the hallways but you don’t fucking care. You would let Tommy stick whatever he wanted wherever he wanted if it meant he called you his bunny again.

You cum on the hockey stick, drenching it in your fluids and feeling it splatter out around your thighs as he keeps fucking you.

Satiated, smiling, and full, you fully slump against the bench and Tommy finally pulls the stick out. All clear, you let yourself slide onto the cool tile floor, red lockers creating a wall around you. And you laugh.

If Tommy cares that you’re laughing after sex he does show it, instead crawling over to where your head rest after he pulls up your pants, giggling himself. He pulls your head onto his lap, gently caressing you.

“How you feel’n?”

You grin up at him, Tommy’s near-black locks falling around him. “A little empty right now, honestly.”

This makes him laugh again. “Well, I got all night, bebita. I can fill you right up again” When you’re read he helps you up. “You’re really someth’n, y’know that?”

“I do, actually. That’s why I think we’d be good together.”

“Can’t help but agree with yuh there.” You watch him dress down, to his padding, then tell him you’ll wait for him outside the locker room. As much as you wanna see him naked, you decide to make that event a little more special.

When he’s showered and back in his regular clothes, still as thick as ever, you loop you arm around his and he guides you out of the maze of the rinks halls, his back heavy on your shoulder, but you insist.

As he walks you out, you cross paths with one of his team mates coming back in for some practice, Carter. Tall as hell, blonde, and with a young man on his arm, he takes one look at your mussed hair and hickies, then pats Tommy on the back as they pass.

You were Tommy’s puck bunny now.

hope you liked it!!!!

Other content of mine with tommy: The Wrong Way, Yes Uncle tommy? Blessed be the fruit

Also shout out to my beloved @aurorawritestoescape for her sexy sexy Bad Blood with tommy and joel!

Im working on a tommy exclusive series rn that I hope will be the right kind of mind fuck <3 will start releasing it with the new season! TOMMY MILLER FANS RISE!!!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @miraclesabound @sunshineispunk @umnitsa @huskyfox5 @musings-of-a-rose

#tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller smut #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us 2 #tlou2 #tlou 2 #tlou smut #tommy miller tlou

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thepoggersdilemma · 18 days ago

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thoughts 'bout Feenie? and just imagine Feenie and lawyer Apollo

Thank you so much anon for this ask! And sorry i took a while to answer!

Here’s a What If Apollo travelled back in time and had to help Feenie instead of Mia. It’s one of my favourite hcs because it raises so many things Mia and Polly have in common.

There’s an older post in this blog with a sketch of them in this scenario but i really wanted to make more stuff about them.

*thinks really hard about 24yo Apollo getting tired of 35yo Phoenix and yelling at him to shut tf up in court, and now puts him next to feenie like you would mentos and coke*

I think Wright would also try to brag even more about his gf if it was Apollo instead of Mia because he has to prove he’s a cool boy, which would be so funny to see. Like he was painfully cringe with Mia but with him he would also try to compete lmfao 😭?

24yo Polly was very poignant on cheering up both Trucy and Wright when things got bad for them so i think he would be so sweet with Feenie when he sees him really going throught it, like he’d exteriorize more his feelings and Apollo would feel like the worst person in the world if he didn’t help him out.

Finally, i think AA6 phoenix would be similar to feenie in the sense that both would form horribly destructive sentences + shower apollo in compliments until he goes “ok that’s enough”.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #apollo justice #odonaru #mart #feenie #feenie wright

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jptbat · 8 months ago

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Some sunny days

Jason Peter Todd x Fem!reader.

Warning ⚠️: none , all fluff

Summary: just a sunny morning with your beautiful boyfriend Jason Todd.

Author note 🦦: Hello baties, I’m new to Tumblr so I don’t know how to use it but I promise I will do everything to make my blog something good to see or read. In my first post be kind please and if you want give me some advice!

It was a nice day in this month of June.

You were finished with all of your exams and you could finally have some time with the teddy bear who used to be your boyfriend. The glow in your skin when you open your eyes. You yawned for a minute and bend yourself with a smile when you see him. Your beautiful man.

He was asleep with the half of his face deep in the pillow, his arm was under it, and his hair. His amazing sleepy hair was a mess as always. You looked at him with love and adoration while you ran your fingers through his white hair. If you could, you would never want to get off your sheared mattress. But you wanted to eat something. You tried to get up but a surprised gasp left your lips when an arm caught your hip to put you closer to the teddy boy.

“Where do you think you’re going?” his deep morning voice make you smile even more than you can. “I was thinking about going to find something to eat.” you looked at his green eyes. “What about ya?” with one hand, Jason positions you on top of him and hums you. “I was thinking of sleeping with my wonderful girlfriend all of the morning.”. You feel your cheeks warm up and you laugh “I'm sorry Jay but I don't feel like hanging around the bed all morning. I wanna eat a delicious breaky and then go for a walk.” you see him groan and you furrow your eyebrows with a “What” left your mouth.

“Nothing” he hums “I'm just so sorry because your timetable isn't bout to happen” You put your hands on his big shoulders and shake him a bit “Com’on Jaybird! It's a great day why don't you want to take it and use it?!” you whine again and again and all he can do was laughing at you. “Because I can use this sunny day in my way” his mischievous grin makes you angry “Let’s rest after all those weeks with crimes I have to fight and all of your shitty exams for once” You were about to speak when Jason takes you in a deep embrace your head on his chest and his carousel hands dancing on your naked back you were just wearing a panties and a bra. “Shush. I win now let's sleep” his sweet voice makes you close your eyes.

“This is a good sunny day”

AYOHH BATIES FIRST WRITING IN ENGLISH I FCKNG SCARED BUT HOPE EVERYONE WILL LOVE IT ANYWAY SEE YOU SOON 🦦💞

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #dc x reader

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wildemaven · 1 year ago

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he makes life better | joel miller

-> pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x reader

-> word count: 1335

-> content warning: 18+ blog; bad day, annoyed with work, dealing with flat tire, joel being sweet, lots of fluff

-> note: this is for my sweet friend @gnpwdrnwhiskey hoping this brings a smile to her face 💞 this isn’t beta’d either so it’s probably filled with mistakes lol.

masterlist

Joel ❤️: How’s your day going Honey?

I’m so ready for my shift to be over. I’d rather read the dictionary, front to back, than deal with the shit they have me doing today.

RING

“That bad, huh?” Joel’s voice brings you an instant smile when you answer his call, silently stepping away from the mess that you were dealing with at work.

“You have no idea. It already feels like it’s been the longest week, today has just added to the shit show life keeps throwin’ at me lately. Went to leave for work this morning and I had a flat tire. Ugh! I’m sorry for complaining.” You vent to him, tucking yourself in a secluded corner. You were going against policy by taking a personal call while on the clock, but you didn’t care about company policy or the outcome of you were to get caught at the moment— Joel was your only focus right now.

“Hey, none of that. Don’t apologize for being stressed. Why didn’t ya call me ‘bout your tire?” Joel asked.

You know he would’ve dropped everything the minute did call him, which is also why you didn’t. He had been stressing over starting at a new job site, one of the biggest ones he had been hired for. The last thing you wanted was to add to his already busy day of things he had to deal with.

“You’d already left for work and had that new job you’ve been talkin’ about. Didn’t wanna bother you with it. I called AAA and had them put the spare on for me so I could drop it off at the tire shop. Now, I’m unexpectedly the owner of 4 new tires.”

“I don’t care how busy I am— you need something, you call me, no matter what. Got that, Honey?”

“Got it, Joel. Thank you.” You smile into the phone at his concern for you, always finding ways to make you fall even deeper in love with him.

“Good. Hey, I gotta go. Tommy looks like he’s about ready to break his back. I should probably go help him before he actually does and my insurance takes a hit. I’ll see ya tonight then, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. I should be outta here in 3 hours.” The end to your long shift, almost over.

“That sounds great! I love you, Honey. I’ll see ya later.” You can faintly hear Tommy cursing in the background.

“Love you too, Joel.” You tell him before the line goes dead. Giving yourself a few minutes of quiet before heading back to join your team and the never ending line of customers.

The rest of your shift goes by fairly quickly. Joel’s phone call must have been just the moral boost you needed to sprinkle a little bit of extra positivity into your day.

The minute the clock hit 5 pm, you wasted no time clocking out and logging out of your computer for the day. Deliberately bypassing your usual exit path to avoid any chatty coworkers, Joel and home your main focus of the rest of your day, you weren’t going to waste any time stuck in drawn out conversations.

Your purse thrown over your shoulder, work apron crumpled in one hand and the other holding your empty tumbler that once held the warm delicious coffee you had hoped would sustain you through the day, now wishing it was filled with something a little stronger to help you unwind when you got home.

It’s a struggle trying to juggle your things as you search for your keys, lost somewhere in the depths of your purse along with the rest of your life's necessities. You pause in the middle of an empty parking space near where your jeep is parked to give the search your full attention. After some thorough digging, you locate your keys and let out an exasperated sigh, one step closer to being home.

Taking a step forward as you press the unlock button on your key, you look up to see an unexpected sight. A familiar truck in the parking spot next to yours, and the most handsome man leaning on it. He looks like he came straight from the job sight, too. His peppered grey hair disheveled, but his soft curls were still intact even after a long day. The sleeves of your favorite green flannel are rolled up over his flexed forearms that are crossed against his chest, the fabric stretched over his broad shoulders.

The sight of him is enough to melt away any of the bullshit you had endured over the past week, a completely welcomed surprise.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, letting your feet carry you the rest of the way to him.

“Heard you were havin’ a shitty day. Couldn’t let my lady end it on a bad note.” He croons, pushing himself off the side of his truck, opening his arms to you.

You melt into him, your face nestled into his shoulder. His rugged scent of musky vanilla and natural pheromones is permanently infused into the fibers of his shirt, it’s your favorite thing ever. His strong arms wrap around you as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, prompting you to straighten up, looking into his amber eyes.

“Hi, Cowboy.” You beam at him.

“Hi.” He says, leaning in to gently mold his lips over yours. “I’ve got a surprise for ya, Honey.”

“This was enough of a surprise for me. What more could I need?” Stealing another kiss from him.

“If I tell ya, it won’t be a surprise then, will it?” He says, tilting his head slightly as he looks at you.

“I guess you have a point.”

“We’ve gotta get going though, it’s time sensitive.” He grabs for your things and walks you around to the passenger door, holding it open as you climb in. “We’ll grab your jeep in the mornin’, if that’s okay with you?”

“Whatever you say, Cowboy.” He leans back in for another kiss, before making his way around into the driver’s seat.

The drive isn’t long. Down some familiar roads that lead to a dirt one off the main highway. His truck travels down the gravel road lined with a barbed wire fence. After a few minutes he’s pulling off to the side and killing the engine.

“You brought me to my favorite place.” Looking over to his side of the truck, where he’s already looking in your direction. Your heart grows at how he thought to bring you here, knowing how much joy it brings you every time.

“Thought you could use it. Look, here they come.” He says pointing to your window.

Off in the distance, the small herd of cows were in pursuit of their evening meal and water break. Mamas with their little rambunctious calves trailing behind, trekking along the same path they travel each evening.

It’s a calming sight. Their heads bobbling with each dramatic step. Tails whipping over their rear ends to swat away the annoying flies. A few stopping mid trek to look in your direction, letting out a long drawn out moo. Their friendly hello, it’s good to see you again, then back on the move.

The sky is painted in pinks and purples as the sun dips below the horizon. Your day feeling less shitty as you sit silently in the cab of Joel’s truck. His hand resting on your thigh while his thumb draws soft circles over thick denim seam.

“Thank you for this. Didn’t realize how much I needed it. I love you, Joel.” You tell him, rolling your head over the headrest in his direction.

“I did it because I love you, Honey. And s’what I’m here for.” There’s a low rumble in the air as he turns the key over, shifting the truck into drive. “Now, how ‘bouts we head on home and I spend the rest of the evenin’ show you all the other ways I love you?”

“Take me home, Cowboy.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us au #no outbreak!joel miller #TLOU #pedro pascal #pedrostories #wildemaven writes

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malicedragoness · 1 year ago

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Nsft Havik Headcanons

Listen up y’all. This is by far, without a doubt, the weirdest thing I have written for this blog. Havik is not for everyone. So please read the warnings before you decide to read.

I don’t know why I’m attracted to this damn zombie man. But goddamnit!

Let me know if y’all want a part 2 or have questions.

WARNINGS: Havik is his own warning, body horror, limb detachment, lots of blood, manic behavior, Havik saying absurd shit.

-At first, he hates your guts when he meets you. He’s not supposed to want you. Owning things and keeping them in line aren’t his philosophy. A relationship feels like confinement and ownership. There shouldn’t be ownership. And yet he wants to keep you to himself.

He hates it. You represent everything he is against and he hates that he wants you. But if you returned his affections, he would keep you close to him and act like a violent guard dog to anyone that gets close to you.

-Havik is a chest guy. It’s not so much for nipples/boobs, but he has an obsession with your heart. He wants to be able to physically touch it and it tortures him that he can’t. So he settles for being as close to it as possible.

Havik favors positions where he can see and feel your chest and salivate over it. His favorite pastime is to lay his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat like a thief trying to crack open a safe.

One thing about being with Havik, you need to get used to some of the absurd shit he says. During sex he’ll comment: “Just one chomp. One good chomp and I’ll be eating your heart out of your body, and sip your life’s blood.”

“I can hear your blood singing to me.”

“So sweet. So forbidden. Please, let me just lick it?”

Once Havik reaches a certain point in your relationship, he will let you physically touch his heart. He opens his chest to show you how fast it beats when you’re around. “Only you can make my heart dance like this.”

Even if you don’t want to touch it, he makes you. In his own delusional way, he’s showing you he trusts you.

-Masochist. It should go without saying that Havik enjoys pain, specifically if you’re the one to inflict it. From simple things like nipple clamps and tight cock rings, to drawing patterns in his skin with a knife. He gets off on you hurting him.

And while he loves pain, Havik would never turn away any tenderness you give him. If you stroke his hair, he’ll rub his head into your hand like a kitten. He will take any form of touch and affection you give. Gentle or cruel.

-Havik is proud of how absurdly flexible and detachable his body is. He can arch his body in different ways and put it in angles that aren’t humanly possible. Sometimes he detaches his head and will watch his body fuck you from across the room. There are times during sex where he has you hold his detached head to your chest while he fucks you, so he can listen to your heart beat.

-Licks your blood like it’s a delicacy. If you’re ever injured in a fight or if you have a cut on your finger, Havik is quick to come lick it. He’ll moan in ecstacy tasting your blood and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Your blood is a shot of adrenaline to his system, and he gets more impatient than usual, and wants to drag you off to fuck you that instant.

-He is loud! There’s no restraint with him. He growls, he moans, he screams, he talks. He can never be quiet. So if you don’t want to be caught in the act, make sure you’re not anywhere public.

-Oral sex can be tricky for him. It’s not that he lacks enthusiasm. Far from it. But with no lips he’s relying heavily on his tongue and fingers to give you pleasure. For men, he circles his tongue around your cock and uses his hands to jerk you off.

-Love bites and nibbles replace all the kisses he could’ve left on your body. After his face got damaged, he realized he prefers it this way. Bite marks litter your skin and he’s all too happy to run his tongue over them.

-Havik experiences bouts of mania after fighting and being covered in blood. When he’s high in his mania, his masochistic tendencies get extreme. He wants you to slice him up, tie him down, pull his hair, torture him by making him cum multiple times so he gets overstimulated. He wants to feel pain.

Eventually, he will rip his arms off to get out of the restraints so he can take out his energy on you. And when he’s in it deep, he’s loud and sets a brutal pace.

“You feel so gooooood! I want to see your brains spill out of your head!”

(Keep in mind, he would never hurt you like that. But he says things in the throes of pleasure.)

When he goes through these episodes, it seems like it lasts for hours before he finally stops. Once he comes down from his high, he is exhausted from the emotional overload. He’ll cling onto you, shaking and crying. Desperate for an anchor as he rides the waves of his mental crash, loving the feel of you petting his hair.

-After being together for a while, he’ll break off one of his fingers and give it to you. Havik won’t grow it back. He puts it on a cord for you to wear around your neck. It’s his way of proposing to you. No matter where you go, you always have a piece of him.

#MK Havik #havik #havik x reader

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not-goldy · 6 months ago

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Nah the way Jk whipped it in the parking lot and hit he brakes had me dying. He trying to give Jimin whiplash. Just eating the hell out of my popcorn and watching.

Jk: You're here. FINALLY Jm: I miss V. Jk: ?? okay lets call him. Jm: Should we call RM. Jk: Hi Taehyung Hyung, you're adorable, I love you. Jm: Lets call Suga. Jk: I miss members. Jm: I'm a member. Jk: ….

They really went to bed fighting & woke up fighting. Alexa Play, Pillowtalk by Zayn.

"So we'll piss off the neighbors. In the place that feels the tears. The place to lose your fears. Yeah, reckless behavior. A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw. In the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day. Fucking and fighting on. It's our paradise and it's our war zone."

Lmho

I think we saw different shows🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I nearly posted a meme about them going to bed but was saving it for my analysis on my other blog.

They didn't go to bed angry at all. Like I said, by evening Jungkook's anger had been dispelled.

He was literally singing the moment he saw that bed that night and exclaimed he "loved this" while rolling on the bed😭

Went on and slept passed out next to Jimin- probably the best night in a long time for him stress free with a warm sexy boy next to him😩😩😩😩

Then he went out and made a stone flower for Jimin the next morning and prayed to it for him to get better. Called Jimin to come and pray for good health too. Again I don't know bout yall but that was sweet as fuck.

But for real, someone seemed excited to go to bed next to Jimin the previous night🤣🤣🤣🤣

Woke up well rested and in a good zen mood😌

And Jimin had to stink the room for sure but he was like don't mind me at all go poop it out I'll just lie here and sniff it all in🥴💀💀💀💀

And by the way he was the one who diagnosed Jimin with a stomach bug and said they had to get medicine the next day cos it must be a stomach bug.

I don't think they woukd have gotten drugs for Jimin at all because until Jungkook pointed out he needed to take something for it, the crew did nothing for JM even though they knew about it throughout the day when he would run off to use the loo every where they went to.

And he didn't tell JK about it earlier. Jk had to keep asking where Jimin was throughout the day when he would disappear out of the blue.

If he didn't care at all he wouldn't have been searching for him any time he disappeared. Even with V, he still asked where that man was when he wasn't coming.

Dude literally hopped and skipped away from Tae just to catch up with JM. And not to make this a competition but when JM said he regretted coming to be with JK JK said well its too late for that now 🤭

Meanwhile Tae said I shouldn't have come and he said go then. This is our show anyway 🥴

So I dont know why people are exaggerating his sass towards Jimin😩

To be frank, I would have fled the room if anyone was taking a dump three feet from where I slept I don't care if Jimin's shit smells like roses🥴

Jungkook just sniffed it all in if that's not love I don't know what is😩😩😩😩

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depravitycentral · 1 year ago

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Daichi Sawamura Yandere NSFW Profile

Yandere! Daichi Sawamura x fem! reader

TW: dub/noncon, kidnapping, masturbation, voyeurism, groping, cum eating (literally and in a kinky way), Daichi is icky and you should never eat any food he provides for you, roleplaying, begging, breeding, Daddy kink, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of lactation kink, mild undertones of misogyny, obviously this is post-timeskip Daichi, fem reader, MDNI

WC: 10.0K

HABITS:

Before you walked into Daichi’s life, he wasn’t an avid fan of touching himself. He had no problems with sex – it was normal, natural, and he was most certainly no stranger to the incessant pull of hormones, to the intensity of late night bouts of horniness.

And yet, he’d never really been one to get himself off obsessively, to wrap his fingers around his aching cock and jerk away until a stuttered grunt and sharp exhale of breath tumble past his lips as ropes of white splatter against his chest every night.

Sure, he had stress from his everyday life; stress from his job, his friends, his parents, everything – and he’ll admit that his hand, some lube, and a rather explicit video certainly helped make the stress go away, if only for a bit. He wasn’t necessarily unpopular with women before meeting you, but he’d never really held much of an admiration towards any particular girl for any longer than a week or two, anything deeper than a fleeting attraction that eventually died down and turned to something more platonic.

His feelings are guarded, and it most certainly did not feel right to be fucking his fist to the thought of some girl who he’d never spoken more than fifty words to. Past girlfriends have helped curb his libido a bit, offering him a better alternative than his hand, but Daichi has never felt that enthralled by touching himself and others.

However, once you step into his world, suddenly Daichi’s entire outlook on sex and masturbation changes drastically. He prides himself on being a man of restraint, of respecting the boundaries of others, but where you’re concerned?

Well, is it respectful of him to be daydreaming about bouncing you up and down on his cock, hearing you cry out his name and watching your pretty tits bounce along with you?

Is it disrespectful to think of the way your ass would jiggle as he spanks you, how your voice would sound so airy and breathless when you call out five – oh! Five, Daddy!

Is it crude of him to imagine the way you’d choke and gag as you pull off of his cock, a string of saliva connected to your puffy lips to his swollen tip, cum smeared all along your cheeks as you beg him to let you give him just one more, wanna make you feel good one more time, please!

He’s normally not especially sexually driven, but it’s almost like a switch gets flipped once Daichi realizes how fucking in love he is with you – mind, soul and, of course, body.Lonely nights spent thinking of you and your perfect figure that Daichi desperately wants to touch become more and more frequent, more and more urgent because when he’s laying underneath his covers, his body growing hot as he thinks about what could be hiding under your clothes, how can he not vividly begin imagining the gentle curve of your ass, the plush of your thighs and the wonderful, sweet treat laying between them?

How can he not fantasize about tasting your slick, dipping his tongue between your folds and feeling your fingers tug at his hair while your pretty whines fill his ears?

Because of his stance on getting busy with himself being a time for imagination of someone, Daichi is actually quite touch starved, and once he has his hand wrapped around his achingly hard cock with you in mind for the first time, he starts to question why he didn’t start doing this much sooner.

When it comes to touching himself, he has a pretty set in stone method for how to best get himself off, for how to make the experience the best that he can.

(Everything he can do to himself is subpar in comparison to you, though – just the thought of what your soft fingers could do, your warm mouth, your soaking pussy, your bouncy tits, your pert little asshole is enough to get him groaning and wishing you were with him.)

Daichi has a pattern established on how he touches himself, and he rarely strays from it. It works very well, and it allows his mind to run wild with fantasies of you. Daichi is a dom through and through, and every fantasy he harbors between the two of you (and there are many to choose from) involves him in the more dominant position - him above you, thrusting into you as deeply and sensually as he can, whispering in your ear how good you are for taking his cock so well.

Him sitting up in bed, your legs straddled around him and your fingers splayed over his chest while he moves you up and down, growling out your name and sucking hickies into your neck, occasionally coming up to smack and grab at your ass. He’ll even grab you firmly and thrust up into you from time to time, the abrupt change of pace and force making you cry out and collapse forward, pressing your chest into his face while he sucks at a nipple and growls under his breath.

His obsession with caring and watching over you that plagues his everyday interactions with you translates into the bedroom too - every sexual urge and desire he has about you is really about taking care of you and your needs. He’s the ultimate pleaser, in all honesty, though he does his fair share of teasing at times.

Of course though, he has a few selfish fantasies (namely, he’d love for you to give him head, to be on your knees, sucking and drooling all over his cock while he runs his fingers through your hair, grunting out praise for you and thrusting into that tight throat of yours) that he indulges in once in a while, but generally when he’s alone with just his fist as a poor stand in for your warm, tight, dripping cunt, he focuses on mainly the idea of pleasing and fucking you.

And while he doesn’t ever want to admit it, Daichi has a bit of a dirty secret when it comes to how he masturbates – he’s very much the standard fist fucker, jerking himself off until he’s nearly numb, until he’s panting and his cock is left bright red and swollen, aching for more but too sensitive to endure anything else.

He doesn’t do anything too risqué when he’s jerking his wrist up and down, flicking it slightly as he nears the tip and occasionally letting his thumb glide over his slit, making his hips jerk. He’s not too crazy in that regard, but the small glass jar he pulls out from under his bed and sets on his bedside table is anything but normal. Its half filled with white, sticky semi-liquid, a light film covering the entirety of the jar, looking sinister and kept safe and out of harm’s way so as not to spill a single drop.

When he’s in the mood, his cock already flushed and desperate for contact (which is after nearly every interaction with you, no matter how small or innocent), he’ll just gulp and bite his lip, retreating away to his bedroom with excitement building in his gut. He’ll start by locking the door and dimming the lights, before heading over to his bed and stripping down to nothing.

He’ll twist the lid of the jar off, the potent smell enveloping his senses and leaving him to wonder how you’d react to the aroma, whether you’d be flustered and shyly look away, or whether you’d grab the jar and bring it up to your nose, deeply inhaling and letting your eyes roll to the back of your head, moaning something about how he smells so good, how you want to taste him, how you need him.

Setting the jar back on the table, he’ll sit on his mattress so that he’s leaning back on his knees, his entire chest upright and exposed as his cock slaps up against the skin of his lower stomach, red and drooling precum and absolutely begging for attention.

He’ll run a hand along his chest, scratching lightly at the hard muscles and reaching down to his dark pubic hair, a low groan escaping his throat as he closes his eyes and imagines it’s your wandering hands, so much smaller and softer than his own.

He’ll imagine you laying down before him, spread out and looking so welcoming and ravishing, your hair all wild and your eyes wide with desire, lips already swollen from kissing and dark marks sucked into your neck claiming you as his his his. His cock bobs at just the thought, a thick glob of precum oozing from the tip.

He’ll start slowly, ghosting a hand over his raging erection, feeling how he twitches slightly at the airy contact. He runs his fingertips over the prominent vein on his left side, feeling the way it stands out against the smooth skin of his length, the touch making his toes curl and his thighs twitch.

Sometimes he’ll imagine your soft, perfect lips wrapped around his length, sucking and swirling your tongue around his sensitive head while his fingers are buried in your hair.

Other times, he’ll imagine you under him, looking up at him with those wonderful eyes clouded in lust and ecstasy as he absolutely destroys that precious little pussy of yours, pounding into you so hard that you’re fisting the sheets and crying out for dear life because fuck he’s hitting so deep, and you’re going to come much too soon.

The only sound filling the room while his fist works at his length is the dull thump of his pelvis, along with ragged breathes and little growls of your name and fuck yes, good girl, god just like that, fuck baby how’re you so damn tight mixed with incoherent little gasps of mine as he nears his high.

His pace starts to speed up too as he gets closer and closer to his release, grunts escaping him while he chants your name under his breath, until eventually his hips are bucking over and over into the air, desperate to be thrusting as deeply inside you as possible, and his orgasm tears through him with a low, throaty grunt.

Quickly he’s scrambling to grab onto the jar, knocking things over in his haste as he groans loudly, chanting your name and going on about how you’re so good, so fucking good, fuck wanna – wanna fuck you so bad – take it take it take it – !

His eyes squeeze shut as thick ropes of cum shoot from his red, engorged tip and directly into the open jar, the spurts blending in with the other older, thicker loads stored in the container, and he’ll lowly growl your name, imagining praising you for taking his cock so well and how you’re such a good girl for taking every last drop of his cum while he empties his balls inside the container, keeping his hand lightly pumping to make sure he gets every last drop out. He’ll even grip the base and shake himself a bit to make sure everything he has to offer comes out, drooling from the swollen slit and dripping in big fat drops into the jar.

It takes him a few minutes to recover, and once he does, he’ll smile crookedly down at the glass, bringing it up to nis nose to lightly sniff, the image of your face when you bite into the little snacks he makes you flashing through his mind.

You’re so cute when you’re munching on the little mini bite sized sandwiches he brings you every week during your lunch break, your adorably clueless self never wondering why there seems to be so much mayonnaise, why there’s always a slightly bitter, salty undertaste.

But Daichi doesn’t mind – it’s worth it to see you lick your fingers clean, his mouth going dry at the thought of you licking his cock clean in the same manner, and as he shuts the jar lid and carefully places it back under his bed, knowing he’ll likely have it filled the other half way by the weekend with the sheer amount of cum he produces and the frequency with which he collects it.

And as he leans back against his pillows, he’ll be more lonely than ever, because all he wants in that moment is your warm, beautiful body to be there with him, cuddling into his naked chest and telling him how much you love him.

All he wants is your soft, sticky body clutching onto his, your face nuzzling into his chest and the mixture of his cum and your slick dripping down your thighs and onto him to lull him to sleep. You’re so perfect, and as Daichi slips into a land of dreams filled with your face, he can only hope the day soon comes when his imagination becomes reality.

FAVORITE BODY PART:

Your thighs

He can’t quite explain it, but there’s just something about the expanse of your thighs that gets him gulping, having to adjust both the collar of his shirt and the waistband of his trousers. Size is completely irrelevant to him; you could have the leanest thighs with hardly any fat, the most muscular legs he’s ever seen, or a lovely plush to them that jiggles with your every move, and he’d still be completely, whole-heartedly in love.

There’s just something about the smooth expanses of skin that really get Daichi hot under the collar - maybe it’s the fact that they look so soft and squishy, like he could just reach out and grab a handful, get you flustered and squeaking in surprise as he massages the soft flesh under his palm.

Maybe it’s the way they splay out when you sit down, looking perfect, so fucking tempting, like they could suffocate him so easily and fuck, now he’s hard and staring at your thighs from across the room and god, where’s the nearest bathroom with fairly soundproof walls?

Or maybe it’s because he just knows that there’s a wonderful, sweet surprise waiting in the middle of them, ready for him to love and touch and taste and god, he’s never wanted to fuck something so bad, never wanted to shove his cock into something so much, to fill to fucking brim with his cum and make a completely fucking mess of something as badly as he does your luscious fucking thighs –

Regardless, he’s completely in love with the supple flesh; he wants nothing more than to run his hands up and down them, take a handful and squeeze, nibble until a nice, possessive hickey taints the delicate skin. He wants to touch you so badly, to get the opportunity to love and worship every inch of the supple flesh, to show you just how beautiful you are, how much he loves and appreciates your body.

Each time the thought of them flashes through his mind (something that happens very frequently), he’s practically drooling, his mouth watering and saliva pooling up in his cheeks at just the thought of getting to touch them, of getting to knead your soft skin and hear the way you sigh out in pleasure, of sucking dark hickeys into the delicate skin of your inner thighs, of getting to push them together and fuck the space between them.

It’s honestly pretty bad how quickly and easily your thighs can arouse him - when he sees you wearing anything shorter than full length pants, he has to will his eyes away for fear that he’ll grow hard right then and there, his face flushing red and his throat growing dry.

It’s all too easy to imagine those thighs hooked up over his shoulders, bending your body in half while he pounds into you again and again and again until you’re incoherently crying out, fingernails scratching down his back while he hisses and grunts and pounds into you deeply enough to imprint the shape of his cock onto every part of you.

And once he’s stolen you away, Daichi’s obsession really begins to show – constantly touching you, always groping you and resting a hand against them (preferably between them when you cuddle or watch TV, because the heat alone is enough to have his eyes fluttering closed, a sharp inhale sounding while he shifts around below you) always eyeing them from the corner of his gaze, always forcing you to throw a leg over him when he’s cuddling you in the much too large bed Daichi bought for the two of you.

(He’d purposefully bought such a large size, if only because he wants to have all the room in the world to spread you out as he sees fit, to get you open and exposed and vulnerable to his probing stare, his wandering fingers, his eager mouth.)

If he could, he’d have a hand on your thigh at all times of the day, regardless of who you’re with, where you are and what you’re doing - he just can’t control himself.

His chest

While he isn’t overly buff, he’s put in his fair share of physical care and generally keeps himself in pretty good shape not only for his job, but for his own health as well.

He most definitely has muscle, and his upper body is actually quite defined – pectorals that physically stand out, a pair of pebbled, sensitive nipples, planes of light abs that flex and harden under your curious fingertips. He works hard during required workout sessions for the force, and although he isn’t the most purely athletic on the force, he does regularly visit the gym and lift.

And once you walk into his life, suddenly Daichi has someone to impress, someone to imagine gushing over his muscles and trailing their fingers over him in awe. And really, you’re by far the best motivation he could ever ask for; he wants you to be impressed, to be in awe at his body and the muscles lining his form, if only to prove that he can provide for you, that he can protect you and take care of you like he should, like you deserve.

And that’s what running through his mind as he pushes the bench press above his head, as he grits his teeth and pushes himself just a bit further, just a bit harder, because imagining the look of awe and attraction in your eyes the first time he’s shirtless around you is enough to have him eagerly upping his regiments, wanting to resemble to cover models for the men’s activewear magazines he sees around.

He has a lot of fantasies that involve his chest where you’re concerned – he wants you pressed up against him, your warm, soft and supple body flush against the hard lines of muscle.

He wants to feel your breasts pushed up against him, feel your hard nipples against his own, the swell of them against him as he pulls you closer, kisses you, hands grabbing fistfuls of your ass while he groans into your mouth.

He wants to hover above you and absolutely destroy that cute little pussy of yours, to leave you sobbing and writhing around below him in pleasure with your hands firmly pushing against his chest, arms too weak to even remotely put up a fight as he just keeps going, as his cock drives into you again and again and again.

The ideas make his head spin, his throat feel dry with want and his fingers idly clenching into fists, the desperation to have your admiration and awe pointed at him so potent that it’s nearly painful.

And once you’re trapped in his home, Daichi tries to speed up the inevitable by simply forgoing any type of shirt in the presence of you – his muscles are on display, abs tightening and flexing when he reaches up to get something off the top shelf, clenching his core tightly when he forces you to sit on his lap while he feeds you dinner.

Having a strong, masculine chest only furthers his idea of him being your strong, brave protector in his mind, and you being his sweet little darling, the one who is so delicate and in such desperate need of saving.

Daichi is proud of his physique, and while he tries not to let it show, the first time he’s half naked around you the desperation to get your approval is practically palpable – so really, just run your hand from nipple to nipple, trace the hard lines of his abs, the deep v right above the hem of his pants, and whisper a sultry voice, you’re so handsome, Daddy, and Daichi will nearly come right then and there.

He just wants your approval, so badly that it nearly suffocates him.

DRIVE:

Before meeting you, his sex drive was low – occasionally getting himself off, though often finding himself too busy to really indulge in even a quick session with his wrist tugging and jerking on him while he grunts and groans.

It just wasn’t important to him, something that he didn’t have the time, energy or interest in investing in. He didn’t have anyone to think of or imagine, and while there were plenty of pretty women he got along with, he could never manage to form developed enough feelings to get to the stage of wanting to be with most of them in that way, of wanting to see them naked and touch them.

However, this does a complete 180 when his obsession with you forms - suddenly he’s wrapped up with all of these lewd ideas of you, all of these fantasies that make his face turn red and his entire body feel like it’s on fire.

Frequent wet dreams that leave him washing his sheets three or four times a week have him focusing on hazy imagery of you reaching down to spread the lips of your cunt for him, letting him see the shining wetness inside, the clenching hole he so desperately wants to fuck, the slick he wants to lap up every drop of.

Ideas of you on your knees, looking up at him through teary eyelashes while you gag and choke against his cock have him groaning and steadying himself against the wall, his knees quite literally going weak at the mere thought of you.

He’s horny for you at all times, and nothing can sate his desire for you and your body until you’re there in front of him, naked and getting your brains fucked out by your beloved. Getting himself off makes it more manageable, but he isn’t truly happy until his thick, aching cock is buried as deeply inside you as possible, where it truly belongs.

He wants to fuck you all the time, and with every innocent expression you give him when he’s with you and every time he sees that fucking skirt you love ride up just a tad, it gets harder and harder to deny himself of his urges.

With every little sound you make as you work on your work assignments, as you stand stirring something over the stove or settle into bed, the urge to pin you down and claim you as utterly and completely his (via stuffing you full of his cum and leaving so many hickeys on your neck that you’ll look like you were attacked by a wild animal, of course) becomes more intense. It becomes more difficult to hold back as his fingers dig into his palm, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration as he tries not to think about the way you’d sound begging for his cock, how you’d plea and cry out for him to fill me up, please please Daddy! I’ve been so good, want your cock, wanna be fucked stupid, please!

Daichi is a bit of a demon in waiting, and once you’re in his grasp, he’s throwing the idea of holding himself back out the window, because fuck it all if you don’t look like the sexiest thing he’s ever seen all dolled up in his t-shirt and the lacy pair of crotchless panties he’d forced you into that morning.

You’re gorgeous, and because of you his libido spikes to the point of him feeling overwhelmed by every little thing you do – but surely, you must want him just as badly as he needs you, right?

However, Daichi will not force anything sexual on you. He wants it to be consensual, for the both of you to enjoy it, and he can’t enjoy himself if you’re in tears and begging him to stop.

(Unless you’re begging because he’s made you come so many times that you can’t even think, something that crosses his mind often late at night, when there’s a flush high on his cheeks, his fist moving so quickly that he can’t hope to stop himself, not when the orgasm he’s so desperate for – that he pretends you’re desperate for - is so fucking close -)

His morals where you’re concerned are fairly skewed, but even Daichi, in his state of absolute obsession with you, knows that sex absolutely needs to be consensual, regardless of the fact that he could die happy if you’d just move those panties to the side and give him five minutes to do whatever he desires, five minutes of pure, unadulterated pleasure that could give him enough material in the spank bank for the rest of his lifetime.

So, he steals himself and tries to ignore it the best he can, but sometimes it gets to be too much, the yearning and desire at such a level that Daichi is helpless in the face of how his cock throbs, aching and practically begging him to get release, to bury himself as deeply inside your tight little pussy as he possibly can.

And anything can trigger this intense reaction, really – seeing you bite your lip while you contemplate whether it’s worth cuddling with him to get the warmth that the blanket he’s using has to give you is enough to have Daichi groaning, a rather noticeable bulge in the blanket right over his crotch making the decision for you.

When you idly hum a tune to a song you love, immediately Daichi’s wondering whether you’d like him to fuck you to that song, to let your cries and moans blend in with the singer’s voice, his own groans and grunts matching the bass perfectly.

He really doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but the pure lust you inspire within him, the desperate desire that your mere presence ignites in his heart isn’t always easy to ignore - he gets desperate, his body telling him to drop everything and come, and sometimes he can’t even make it to the bathroom.

Which leads to him jerking it right in front of you, his trousers zipped down to expose the thick, tan length as his hand mercilessly pumps up and down, up and down, again and again. It obviously makes you uncomfortable (because it always, always happens when you’re in the same room, when you were just doing something that gave him such intense mental imagery that he just couldn’t hold back the lust), but Daichi can’t bring himself to care.

He’ll shamelessly be grunting your name, not scared to praise fantasy-you while you stand a few feet away from him and watch with wide eyes as he steadily yanks at his intimidatingly thick member.

His eyes go from squeezing shut tightly and peeling open to stare you directly in the eye as he groans out fuuuck, shit baby so fucking tight – hngh, gonna – gonna make you come for Daddy, fuck, his fist squeezing his cock in an effort to mimic the way your own walls would milk him dry.

He comes faster knowing you’re watching, knowing that the presence he so desperately longs for is right next to him, that your soft skin and pretty lips are right fucking there, perfectly visible for his eyes and imagination to run wild.

He’ll grip himself tighter and tighter, telling you that you’re so damn tight baby, oh f-fuck, clenchin’ me too damn much while his head falls back, his eyes squeezed shut and his brows furrowed as the pleasure mounts and mounts and grows, everything feeling hot and heavy and ready to absolutely burst –

His cum is suddenly landing in long, thin white stripes across his chest as he heaves, his eyes fluttering open to stare at you as the last few spurts land against his tan skin, his fingers – trembling ever so slightly – give himself a few good shakes, just to make sure he gets absolutely everything out. And all the while he’ll just grin, the sight almost boyish as a breathless chuckle tumbles past his lips.

He wishes that could’ve been inside of you, that he could’ve stuffed your sweet little pussy full of his cum until you were begging for more, but he notices the way your thighs clench together, how your face is flushed from embarrassment but also arousal, and it makes him fucking smug.

He knows it’s only a matter of time until you cave and beg him to touch you, and Daichi can’t wait for that day. You better know what you’re getting yourself into because once he’s done with you your throat will be raw from screaming and you won’t be able to walk for a few days.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

During sex, Daichi is quite vocal – there’s a lot of noises, mostly grunts and groans, along with the occasional growl.

He’s cursing under his breath when you tighten up, the sensation of your walls clenching down at his length making his breath come out in harsh pants. when you let out a particularly sexy moan that goes directly to his cock, he’s gasping sharply and muttering your name, his words slurred slightly as he tries to veer himself away from his impeding orgasm.

He’s incoherent as he tips over the edge, ropes of cum staining your tummy, pussy, tits, face, anything and everything – his words don’t make sense (tangled moans of so good and ‘m coming and take it please please please -).

It’s never quiet in the bedroom with him between his words and the sounds of his balls clapping against your ass and chin, the lewd squelching noises ringing in his ears while he fucks you hard enough to see stars.

There’s all kinds of noise, and there’s almost always a constant stream of commentary coming from him as well. He can’t help himself; the sight of you below him, writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into you and rubs quick, tight circles along your clit is just too much for him to not say anything about.

You’re just so fucking cute when he’s got you split open on his cock, your breasts bouncing in every direction as his hips snap into yours so harshly you’re sure you’ll break, that he’ll tear you in two.

He is quite the dirty talker, and while most of it is short and possessive mutters of mine, Daichi isn’t afraid to express just what you’re making him feel. He’s grunting out that you’re mine, babygirl, this pussy fucking belongs to me as he sinks in inch by inch, slowly filling you and making your eyes squeeze shut as he just keeps going, his length never seeming to end even as his tip nudges against parts of you that you didn’t know existed.

He’s burying his face into your neck as he bends your knees against your heaving chest, the angle letting him hit deeper and harder, your walls milking him for every last drop of cum as he groans lowly that he’s gonna make you come, wanna make you squirt, fuck want you to make a mess for me, let go baby.

He’s running his hand through your hair and tilting his head back with closed eyes as his hips jerk up lightly, thrusting without his control as he nearly whines out about how that’s it, oh fuck baby, look so pretty sucking my cock, like you were made to choke on me ngh –

It really gets him off to see you respond to his words; when you clench around him as he’s telling you how good you’re being for him, how you’re such a good girl for Daddy, it only makes him want to go harder, deeper and faster until you’re spasming around his cock and milking him for absolutely everything he’s worth.

When he tells you that he’s so proud of you while you drool and gag all over his cock, Daichi loves to see your eyes light up, the way your thighs rub together as you move to suckle at his balls, your hand taking over and spreading his precum mixed with your saliva all over his twitching length.

When you make that fucking adorable little gasp as he tells you how he’ll never get pussy this good from anyone else, his heart melts and his desire to see you come undone because of him skyrockets.

He’ll call you his baby girl, tell you how good that pretty little mouth feels wrapped around his cock, or how tight your precious cunt feels around him as he ruts into you.

He’ll rant and rave about how good it feels when you come on his cock, your walls spasming and massaging at his length, triggering his own orgasm that fills you up with white until it’s leaking down the sides, spilling out of your messy little hole because it’s all just too much.

It’s always positive praise; he’s not a fan of degrading you, if only because he genuinely views you as perfection, as someone who deserves to be loved and cared for, not ridiculed and humiliated. It’s designed to subtly show how dominant he is (as if the bruising pace of his hips and the sheer power behind his fingers gripping onto your waist weren’t enough) and to show you how much he’s enjoying whatever it is that he’s doing to you.

Sex with him is never quiet; between your moans and his grunts and hissed words, and of course the slapping of skin against skin and the squelching of his cock stirring up your insides, the bedroom (or kitchen, or shower, or wherever else the two of you find yourself getting down and dirty) will be filled with the passionate sounds of your lovemaking.

And of course, the unmistakable sound of Daichi cursing and calling you his good little girl, his little angel.

Daddy kink

Daichi is dominant in bed. There’s very little chance of you ever convincing him to let you take control between the sheets, and while he may briefly entertain the notion as he lets you push him onto his back and climb on top of him, your moment of power won’t last long.

Soon, he’ll have his hands on your hips, a small smile on his flushed face as he guides your pelvis to grind against his own, dirty words falling from his lips as he commands you to touch your clit for me, wanna see you all gooey and wet for me.

In the bedroom he wants full control, to be the one calling the shots and deciding what goes on, how you get off and whether or not you’re being a good enough little girl to even get touched.

He wants to be the one deciding whether you come from his fingers or tongue – he’ll murmur into the skin of your thighs as he plants kisses leading from your knee to your folds that you’d better behave, wanna see you come on my cock tonight, not my tongue.

He wants to be one to control how many times you orgasm in a single night – he’s warning you that he wants at least four babygirl, and I want them loud; tell me you’re feeling good, and Daddy will keep letting you get there, okay?

It stems from his compulsive, obsessive need to protect you and care for you. He sees himself as your protector, your caregiver, and in order to fully care for you, he needs to make sure you’re getting what you need from sex. He honestly feels like he knows what’s best for you, that his decisions are really the correct ones, even if you don’t see the truth in them now.

He knows that the solution to your homesickness is to fuck you stupid on his cock. He knows that when you’re getting mouthy with him, shoving his girth into your throat until you’re gagging and tears prick the corner of your eyes is the only way you’ll learn some respect. He knows that when you’ve had a long day alone while he works on the force, you need a reminder of how much you mean to him, and what better way to show that than spend hours between your legs, your slick smeared from his chin to his cheeks?

He genuinely believes that he has your best interest at heart every moment, and when you’re such a crying, babbling mess as he impales you on his cock over and over, obviously you can’t make any decisions, let alone speak a coherent sentence, so it must be his responsibility then. You’re just too cockdrunk to know what you really need – so Daichi knows for you.

As a result, there is absolutely no chance that you’ll ever dominate him, no matter how badly you want to - he takes care of you outside and inside the bedroom, and he isn’t relinquishing control no matter how hard you beg.

Even if you get down on your knees and grasp at his pantleg, pleading with him to please let me peg you, please? I’ve been such a good girl lately, I’ll do anything you want if you’ll just let me!, he’s still not budging, just sighing and telling you to quite being such a brat.

Even if you perch yourself naked on his thigh, desperately rubbing your cunt against the knee of his pants, smearing your pretty slick all over the material, Daichi won’t let you tie him up and use him how you please, even though he’s hard as hell. He’s fairly lenient on a lot of other aspects of your captivity with him, but the second you ask if you can top him, if you can call the shots, Daichi can’t help but laugh because do you really think you could do it by yourself?

Do you really think you have the ability to control a man as strong and large as him? Don’t make him laugh.

He wants to showcase his dominance over you in every single way he possibly can when you’re both naked and sweating, and though he does a lot of this through raw physical maneuvering (grasping your hips and controlling the pace when you ride him, pushing your knees up to your ears when he folds you into a mating press, leaning forward so that his entire chest is flush with your back as he ruts into you from behind like a dog in heat) it doesn’t just stop there; you are required to call him Daddy in bed, regardless of whether you want to or not.

Something about the power that comes with it goes to his head; the complete and utter trust that you have in him in order to give yourself over to him like that, to hear you refer to him as such a power figure.

It makes him dizzy with pride, arousal and adoration, and he’s honestly in heaven each and every time you gasp out the name. When he slurps against your folds, tongue eagerly working at your clit, his eyes roll to the back of his skull when you grasp at the pillow under your head and whine out a Daddy, mm, oh just like that, please don’t stop!

When you moan it out while he sends a sharp slap to your ass as he pounds into you from behind, his thrusts only get harder, more aggressive, surely strong enough that you’ll have two large bruises on your ass the next day from where his hips smacked against your skin over and over.

Every time you whimper it as he doesn’t stop his ministrations against your engorged clit even after you’ve reached your high and told him you’re too sensitive, that you can’t Daddy, oh please it’s too much, he just growls and keeps going, the power going to his head because he knows you need one fucking more.

He loves the nickname so much, in fact, that he’ll start requesting you to refer to him as that outside of the bedroom as well – when you’re tired, he’ll only let you go to sleep if you ask him in a sweet voice whether he’ll tuck me in, please Daddy? You do it just how I like it.

To him this is, of course, code for you asking him to fuck the absolute shit out of you without actually having to say it, and most of the time it works – Daichi’s libido is extremely high when it comes to you.

But on the nights where he won’t give in until you swallow your pride and push your arms together in your front, squeezing your breasts together so that the outline of your nipples show while you whisper out a please Daddy, can’t sleep without your cum in my tummy, his pupils dilate and he gulps, quickly ushering you off the bedroom when you know you’ll spend the next two hours with your face buried into the mattress and your ass high in the air while he gropes your tits and fucks you like a man possessed.

He wants to give you the love and pleasure that you deserve, so just let your Daddy take care of you.

Roleplaying

While Daichi could never, ever get bored of fucking you, he likes to mix things up in the bedroom occasionally. His hard and fast rule of always being the one in charge never changes much, but he’s a proponent of roleplaying when the both of you are getting intimate.

Perhaps it’s the product of years of relatively secretly watching porn, or perhaps it’s all those horrible ‘sexy’ costumes he’s seen during Halloween. He’s not sure, but regardless, he’s very, very interested in playing out some common sexual tropes with you.

Of course, he’s more than willing to play the police officer that catches you in the midst of a very minor crime – a speeding ticket, where you’ve got to do him a favor to get out of the cost.

(Generally, a very, very messy, drooly blowjob does the trick; he wants spit dribbling down your chin and down his length, his balls coated in a sheen of it while you gag and choke, his groans of I suppose I can let you go this once making relief sink to your guts.)

His favorite cop fantasy is finding you committing public indecency – you’ll make up some cover story of how you lost your shirt and bra at a friend’s house and now you’re in the middle of the park, the world subject to seeing your pretty tits and tummy. Daichi will pretend to scold you, chiding you for being so reckless, but it’s hard to take him seriously when those brown eyes are staring at your chest the whole time, fixating on how they jiggle with every step you take, just practically begging to be touched and groped.

(He’ll tell you that he has to take you back to the station – the bedroom – and teach you some common decency; ironic, considering more clothes come off than on when this happens, but your face will be buried in the pillows as he pounds against your ass so hard you’re seeing stars and tearing up, so you can’t focus on that too much.)

He enjoys other roleplay dynamics as well; anything with a clear power imbalance.

He’ll be the CEO of an important company and you his sweet little assistant, delivering paperwork and reminding him about that big meeting he’s got later in the day.

(Soon your skirt shortly flipped up over your ass as he pounds you against his desk, the wood creaking with every thrust as he relieves the pent up stress he’s feeling because this is a very important business meeting he’s got.)

He’ll play your patient and you his nurse who’s oh so willing to do anything her patient needs to get healthy again, even if the doctor’s prescribed cure is as many orgasms as possible.

(He likes when you look over every single inch of him, especially if you have to undress him – he’ll be commenting on how lewd it all is as you peel off his shirt, but his breathing is noticeably heavier and his pants are noticeably tighter – not to mention damp.)

He’ll play the fireman saving you from a burning house, and you’re just so grateful for his heroics and courage that you must repay him somehow!

(And who would he be to turn down your offer of letting him blow his load right into that tight little cunt of yours – as repayment for his hard work, of course!)

He’ll be the professor and you a college student, your grades desperately needing raising as you slowly shimmy off your cardigan, revealing the extremely tight and cropped shirt you’re wearing, the white fabric letting him see everything from your waist and above.

(He’ll have you lean forward, looking at him with sultry eyes as you ask if there’s anything you could do, because you’ll do anything to preform better, sir, because I promise you once I start something, I don’t stop until I finish it.)

He’s game to try almost any scenario, and for the most part it all ends with roughly the same thing – he’s fucking you until you’re nearly sobbing from the overstimulation, his calloused hands running along your body as his labored breaths sound in your ears, his depraved moans in both the scene and of his own volition making your head spin.

He’s a sucker for nearly any kind of roleplay, and if you were to bring up a certain scene? Oh, well – Daichi will almost never say no, but you’d better be prepared to dive deeply into the context because he will be making you play your character.

It’s just so hot to him how your relationship suddenly becomes taboo in the blink of an eye, and yet despite all the compromising situations you pretend to play out, Daichi likes that you’ll start associating him with a character who’s life is inarguably intertwined with yours – after all, where would the multi-billion dollar CEO be without the tight piece of ass he keeps in his office just to service him when things get a bit stressful?

You’re more than that to him, but the effect is the same – he’d be nothing without you, and doesn’t that just make you feel so very special?

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Breeding

Diachi is very much a family man. He’s known from quite early on in his life that he eventually wants children, that he’d love to have a few sons running around shooting Nerf guns at one another, to have a few daughters running around playing tag and pretend.

It’s so heartwarming to him, to think of having his very own family, and once you wander into his life? Well, that desire for children and the parental gene that was semi dormant before suddenly become wildly active – Daichi so badly wants to knock you up, to fuck a baby into you that it becomes something he fixates on any time the two of you have sex.

He still fucks you with the goal of making you both feel good, but now he wants to make you feel good so that his seed will take, so that your tummy will be growing round with his baby.

Each time the two of you are in bed, his hands groping and wandering at every inch of your lovely body, Daichi is imagining the way you’ll look once you’re pregnant.

His fingers squeeze and press into the delicate skin of your breasts, imagining how they’ll swell up, your nipples darkening as milk weighs them down. He imagines how heavily they’ll be as he cups one in each hand, his lips closing around the buds as he suckles, mind filled with fantasies of how you’ll look with droplets of white leaking form your puffy, engorged nipples.

He presses down on your tummy as he fucks into you, marveling at the image of your belly so big you can barely walk, your frail body needing his support to do the simplest tasks, totally dependent on him as you carry what he gave you.

He’ll lick and suck at your clit and pussy, imagining how you’ll grow swollen and hypersensitive, your body having gone without his cock for far, far too long – he can only imagine how insatiable you’ll be after you recover from birth, practically forcing him to stuff you full of him him him.

He will be coming inside you every time, not letting you anywhere near birth control, not having a single condom laying around your shared home – no, it’s just his bare cock and your sweet, fertile and unprotected cunt, joined together and creating something wonderful.

Every time that he fucks you he has the trusty plug nearby, stopping you up once he pulls out to make sure that none of the creamy, sticky white stuffed between your legs leaks out.

He’s spending a few moments to caress your stomach as he tries to catch his breath, dark gaze mesmerized by the image of his cock stuffed into your cunt, almost talking himself into believing your tummy is already swollen from the cum he’d just filled you with.

Daichi will get you pregnant, whether you want him to or not, and once the news comes he couldn’t be happier – after all, you’ll make such a wonderful mother, your stomach round and full and your tits leaking with milk.

Breast Fixation

While your thighs are his favorite part of you (though he doesn’t really have a least favorite part of you – you’re his ideal woman after all), there’s something about your breasts that make Daichi absolutely swoon.

He’s never really identified as a tits man before, firmly preferring legs and thighs. Every bit of porn he’s ever watched he’s all but fast forwarded through the fondling portions, the zoom-ins of the woman’s breasts not doing a huge amount for him compared to way the camera captures the lovely curve of her calves and the plush of her thighs.

But the second that your soft, supple mounds are in front of him? Well, Daichi’s body is reacting before his mind can catch up, before he can realize that he’s reaching out and kneading at the soft flesh, callused hands rubbing and squeezing, a harsh moan tumbling from his lips because fuck you’re so soft, how is that even possible?

He’s reaching out to fondle you at the most random times; in the morning, when your sleeping body is spooning up against his own, he’s reaching around to carefully squeeze and lightly toy with your nipples, feeling the way the soft flesh slowly hardens, how you twitch in your sleep slightly at the minute pressure.

He’s reaching across the dinner table as you chew at your food, fingers giving a firm, purposeful squeeze before he sits back down, content to finish his chicken as he dreams about exactly how your tits will look tonight as he fucks you hard enough to make them bounce.

He’ll teasingly pinch at your nipples when he walks through the door from work, his officer uniform on as he grins and sees the outline of them through the incredibly tight shirt he’d had you put on this morning. And during sex, this doesn’t change; he’s rolling and pulling at your nipples, addicted to the way they pebble, how they slowly tighten up when he blows air onto them.

When his hands aren’t groping your thighs there’s a strong, strong chance that they’re instead present at your chest instead – idly fondling, making you squirm in place as he pushes his hips up against your ass, a murmur of do you feel what these pretty tits do to me babygirl? Can you feel how bad I wanna fuck them?

(And once you get pregnant? God, it’s game over for your chest – he’s fascinated by the way they swell up, how your nipples grow darker and areolas larger, how they’re heavier in his hands. And the second that you start lactating, Daichi is done for – you aren’t allowed to wear a shirt anymore, so that he can constantly be gazing upon your swollen belly and leaking tits, so that he can come by and squeeze one, watching a spurt of milk dribble down, rubbing it all along your skin. He likes nursing on you, muttering how you’ll be such a good mom, how his child is gonna be spoiled for life after getting to suck on tits this fine, this perfect and tasty.)

Really, he just loves your breasts, no matter the size, and Daichi has no shame showing his love – you’re perfect after all, so why should he ever be ashamed of recognizing that?

BIGGEST FANTASY:

While Daichi is completely swamped with explicit fantasies between the two of you, there’s most definitely a hierarchy in terms of what he deems the hottest, what’s most appealing to him, what he’s most desperate to try out with you.

(Of course, he’s not complaining about the onslaught of sexual thoughts he harbors for you – oh no, how could he? How could he possibly be upset when he’s waking up sweaty and panting from dreams starring you without any clothing on? How could he be upset when he’s spending nearly every night wringing himself dry to you, his cock swollen and sore and still aching for more, aching for you? The only downside is the cost of having to replace the bottle of lube he keeps on his nightstand – he goes through an entire bottle in roughly two weeks, spreading so much around his length just to try and replicate what he’s sure is your incredibly wet, warm pussy.)

He’s watched his fair share of porn over the years, and slept with a few different women. Consequently, he’s aware of most kinks and activities in the bedroom, and as a result he feels he has a grasp on all kinds of different things he could do to get you moaning and gasping, your nails raking down his back, your lips parting into that pretty ‘o’ shape when you come.

However, most of his favorite – most eager – fantasies are more conceptual than specific situations. He’s constantly fantasizing about knocking you up; stuffing you so full of his cum that you’re leaking down your thighs, your skin stained with the creamy white while you shake and shudder underneath him, looking so pretty and warm.

He’ll fantasize about making you squirt, your pretty thighs quaking as his fingers rub desperately over your clit, your cries making his cock so hard it hurts. He dreams about fucking you up against a wall, using every muscle in his body to hold you up while he destroys you with his length.

However, Daichi’s biggest fantasy is to hear you beg for him. Nothing gets him harder than hearing you say how badly you want him, how much you need him. Nothing is more appealing to him than having you verbalize how badly your body craves him, how you’ll never be truly happy and satisfied until he’s buried balls deep inside you, drooling pink tip nestled snugly against your cervix.

It’s the stuff of wet dreams – in fact, many, many nights Daichi has awoken an hour or so before his alarm, sweat dripping from his temples and the very obvious tent his cock is making in his bedsheets letting him know that the ringing please Daichi in his head is the culprit. It satisfies his protective and possessive side, knowing that he’s the one you’re craving pleasure from, that only he can give you what you want, what you deserve.

As soon as he imagines you saying please, oh god please he’s rock hard and desperately craving a release from your fingers, mouth, and pussy. He’s craving to hear the way your voice changes pitch as you get closer and closer, how your back arches up slightly and your grip grows more insistent against his biceps, your voice turning whinier and your words slurred and your pussy getting so goddamn tight -

The more he imagines you begging for him, for his cock, his cum, anything, the closer he gets, and it’s a sure fire way to obtain a shatteringly powerful orgasm for him. It just turns him on so much.

His lips press light kisses against your neck, tickling the sensitive skin and making you gasp slightly. His hands ghost against your bare sides, calloused fingertips marveling at your soft skin and making you shiver. He’s above you, hovering over you so that all you can really see is him – his shoulders, rounded with muscle, his jawline (sharp, with a hint of stubble lining the skin), his brown locks falling slightly into his half-lidded eyes, his mouth set into an expression that you can only describe as a mix between utter adoration and lust. It’s a bit overwhelming, and between the pounding in your lower body and the way his fully erect cock is resting against your thigh, you know you can’t just lay down and wait. You need him.

Now.

“P-please…” You whisper, eyes squeezed shut as you buck your hips, desperately trying to get some friction to calm the pounding of your lower body. Daichi chuckles, pressing one last kiss against the soft skin of your neck before sitting up. He stares down at you, taking in the messy state of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest, how your lips part just slightly. He smirks down at you, fingertip tracing your jaw as his mind focuses on how fucking perfect you look in this moment. Flustered, disheveled, desperate all for him – exactly how he likes you.

“Please what, baby girl?” He asks, voice low. You gulp and avert your eyes.

“Please, Daichi. T-touch me…” You whisper, still looking away from him. Daichi’s heart swells as his cock visibly twitches against your thigh - you’re just too adorable like this. So needy and horny all for him…

“Now now, princess. You know only good girls who look at Daddy when they beg get what they want.” The finger tracing your jawline moves down your neck, ghosting over your jugular before dipping down over your collarbone to trace around an areola. You shudder, opening your eyes and looking shyly up at him.

“Daddy, please. I need your big, thick cock.” Your voice is whiny, high pitched and so needy, just how Daichi likes it. His heart flutters at the praise; you know exactly what to say to get him aching for you, his primal instincts taking over and pushing him to just ravish you until you’re shaking and too weak to properly stand. And you can feel how it’s affected him; his cock twitching against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, only coaxing on your own desire to be filled, to get the pleasure your body is craving. His fingers close in on a nipple, watching as it hardens below his calloused fingertips.

“What does my baby girl want this cock to do, hm?” He asks, accompanying his words with a thrust against your thigh. You moan, shivering at the friction against your skin. Daichi smirks once more, pinching your nipple between his pointer finger and thumb. You whimper at the feeling, and as he lightly pulls and tugs, your eyes fly open, catching his brown gaze that’s boring into you so intensely that you’re sure he can see right into your soul.

“W-want Daddy to fuck me, please! I n-need Daddy’s cock inside me, want him to make me come so bad. Please, please!” You beg, your voice so clear and ringing out in the hot silence of the bedroom. Daichi pauses for a moment, his lips parting just slightly as he commits this moment to memory - you looking up at him in such desperation and desire, your arms tossed above your head, hair spread out and looking like a halo, and of course your naked, shivering body that’s just begging to be touched, loved, fucked. The next thing he knows, he’s lost complete control over himself, and he’s leaning down, capturing your lips in a heated, messy kiss.

When he pulls away for air a few moments later, he’s panting and practically buzzing with excitement and need. He leans down and licks the shell of your ear, and growls. In the low, gravelly tone you’ve learned to associate with a sore pussy for several days afterwards he groans, “Get ready baby girl, gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be screaming Daddy’s name all night.”

And with that, he pushes in, cursing sharply at the feeling of how you clench down on him as your startled moan rings through the air. He grunts; you’re so fucking warm and wet, and immediately his hips are snapping back, thrusting, creating a bruising pace that leaves you scratching at his back as you chant ‘yes, Daddy, yes’ under your voice over and over.

“A-ah, oh Daddy yes yes yes please ngh, oh more -!” You cry out, throwing your head back and clutching desperately at his shoulders, hearing him grunt from deep within his chest.

“More what babygirl? Tell – fuck, you’re so fucking tight – tell Daddy what more you want.” He growls, slowing his pace ever so slightly as you whine and buck your hips.

“Want Daddy to fuck me stupid, wanna be his silly little – little girl.” You’re desperate at this point, the stretch of his cock and painfully slow movement against your walls not giving you nearly enough stimulation.

Daichi smirks, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “Yeah? Wanna be Daddy’s dumb little girl, all stuffed full of cock?”

You nod your head, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly starts moving again, the slap of his balls against your ass making you cry out in pleasure and happiness.

“Fuck you’re so pretty, my pretty little baby, getting destroyed on Daddy’s fat cock, fuck –“ His words are nearly unintelligible, said mostly for his benefit, but it only makes you cry out louder, a few tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as the minutes pass by, the trace edges of your orgasm creeping up on you.

And Daichi can feel the way you slowly grow tighter, your moans changing in pitch and volume. He grunts, snapping his hips into you and asking you in a shaky voice, “Something the matter babygirl?”

You whimper, eyes peeling open to stare into the brown depths of his own. “Gonna – gonna come Daddy, please let me come, wanna come so bad!”

And when you’re looking at him with teary eyes, desperation written across your face as your walls clamp down on him hard enough to leave him breathless, how could he possibly deny you?

“Shit, yes – fuck, come for Daddy, cream all over this cock.”

And all Daichi can do is bury his face into your neck, and keep his hips pistoning into you as he reminds himself that this is finally real, that he’s finally getting to be with you and touch you, and when you clench down around him a good five minutes later, a moan of his name ripping from your throat as you come, Daichi thinks he must have found his heaven on Earth. After all, nothing else can explain the way your body makes him feel, the way you make him feel.

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