#cw psuedocest

[necros-writing-stuff]

"Dad," I whisper. I have to whisper, I have to tiptoe and treat every object with the utmost care on nights like these. These nights when he comes home with eyes beginning to blur, drowning the urge to let the tears fall in Scotch and old television programmes.

He startles easily when those eyes drift closed. He is quick to fling a fist should a glass clunk too heavily against the coffee table. He is quicker to apologise if skin meets skin. He doesn't apologise to many others.

"Dad," I try again, my hand light as it presses to his shoulder. Still, he sleeps, slumped in his chair that he loves so much. Gently, I up the pressure of my touch until I'm sure he's too deep into his cups to wake up before morning.

The carpet needs a clean. I know this as I kneel before him, between his legs that have spread wider as his body releases all the tension he holds in it through his waking hours. I need to clean it - he doesn't like strangers in the house. Never has. Not even the few friends I had when I was young.

It's easy to recall their faces as my hands venture up his thighs. Easy to see the distain they would grow as they realised I had what they never would. The love of the man raising us all.

"Dad..." I sigh, my fingers finding the zipper of his slacks and pulling it free. Diving below fabric to meet the silky skin that I ached to taste.

"Bailey," I worship as my tongue flicks and wanders, knowing the title of fatherhood is false despite his insistence.

I look like her. I look nothing like him. There's another I resemble, a man about town who Bailey glares at with each passing second he has to suffer his presence. A man who can't know I exist for reasons Bailey refuses to speak, yet I know of because I have followed them for my own curiosity.

He loved her. Bailey loved mother, I know this as I swallow him down, my own eyes fluttering closed and my breath tickling his lower abdomen from my nose. He'll love me the same one day, if only to fill the hole she left. Or perhaps, I'll drag him down into the hole I've made home.

[kitoshii]

whos ? subbot ! bunny hybrid ! male ! reader x domtop ! wolf hybrid ! male character | pt 2

lovin ? kinda psuedocest , feminization , breeding , degradation & praise , size kink / size difference , small reader , overstim …

your first meeting.. was a weird one. your moms telling you the two of you are going for dinner and of course this is a surprise - eating out is not a normal occurrence in your family, home cooked meals are much preferred, and you’re especially surprised when she says to dress in something nice. yet, you pick out clothes, something form flattering yet dressy, and the two of you are on your way to the restaurant when she proposes an idea, as if its from the top of her head. “why don’t we invite another to join us?”

youre naturally confused, but you don’t disagree, and reaching the restaurant, you’re greeted at your reserved table by two carnivores, huge ones at that, and your normally floppy ears perk up in interest. the younger one is tall, dark, and handsome and you’re swooning before you’ve even introduced yourself.

yet- you’re still confused. you’re not dumb, you can tell this was all previously planned and so as the night progresses a little more, you ask your mom about what’s going on. the oldest carnivore at the table barks out a little laugh, as does your mother, and the two explain that they’ve been seeing each other, and marriage is on the table.

so the tall, dark, and handsome wolf is going to be your tall, dark, and handsome brother. much less exciting than you’d have wished, although you are naturally happy for your mother. the night ends quite quickly, and the four of you say your goodbyes before parting ways.

your second meeting.. is what he can only describe as insufferable.

he thinks all of this is insanity. he swears under his breath, licking his fangs. his eyes are forced away from you- you, who is crossing your plush legs as you sit on the couch, leaning your weight on the armrest, exposing the side of your neck. a clean, soft surface is all he sees. something on you thats ready to be marked, littered with indents of his teeth and bruises that prove the presence of his lips on your neck- he adjusts himself where he sat, pulling his pants at the thighs to give relief to the problem he finds growing, quite literally, by the second. he’s afraid if he continues staring any longer he might do something he regrets.

he shouldn’t think this way, he knows he shouldn’t, he’s practically just met you, and under the promise of becoming siblings, but it’s not his fault, is it? you’re a pretty bunny boy, soft skin, soft ears, and soft tail on display for him, he’s known he was going to have a hard time since the moment he saw you - and even worse from the moment he smelt you. you’re so defenseless, the shorts that you’re wearing reveal far too much, your fair skin far too tempting, and your innocent eyes far too beautiful. he wants to ruin it all. he want’s to force you to have to put your guard up when he’s around, to rip the shorts off your plush thighs, exposing whats creating the small, compared to his, bulge in them, he wants to mark up your skin until you’re bleeding, nd he wants to strip the innocence from your eyes, forcing you to keep them closed tight as your tears struggle to crawl out.

his breath turns heavier, pants leaving his parted lips as he squeezes his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair - when he’s snapped out of his deep thoughts after your small hand is rested upon his arm and he’s suddenly aware that you’re directly in front of him- but the only thing he can focus on is your silky thighs, the cute bulge in the middle of them, and how much smaller your hand is than his because fuck, he could ruin you so easily it’s driving him insane.

a soft growl escapes from his throat and he notices the way your hand quickly retracts, and he finally tears his gaze away from his eye candy, trailing his eyes up to your face, noticing the way your long, soft ears pin backwards, as if you were a dog. worry is clear in your eyes and he raises an eyebrow, crossing his legs inconspicuously.

“are you feeling alright?” you mumble softly and his mouth opens for a second before its closed again, his fangs catching on his bottom lip. your voice is sweet like honey yet soft like velvet and his ears twitch, moving in obvious attention to you.

he doesn’t answer you, he’s not even sure if he can, choosing to simply nod his head as he stands up, towering over your small frame. he thinks he hears a squeak escape from you and his hard cock twitches in his pants, flitting through every fantasy that involves your mouth.

your third, fourth and fifth can all be considered normal, but your sixth meeting.. is surprisingly his breaking point.

he prides himself on his restraint. his ability to control his emotions, his urges- but the two of you are at your mothers house, and you are, as usual, far too relaxed, and wearing far too little clothing. he sits on a chair outside in the backyard, the shade a willow tree provides and the gentle wind cooling his face - while his lower half burns in desperation.

you’re none the wiser, innocently indulging in boy-ish behavior as you scavenge green grass for anything that may catch your eye, knees bending the blades underneath you. your back is to him - of course it is, he cant seem to catch a break, he mumbles irritatedly, curling his hands into fists from where they sat on the rests of the chair, his piercing eyes fixated on the curve of your ass, the arch of your back, the squish of your thighs, and the way he can perfectly see a prominent imprint of your balls when you bend far enough forward.

for a few moments he thinks you’re doing this on purpose, that you know of his perverted thoughts and are doing this to maybe punish him, but when your soft ears perk up, and you look back at him with sparkling eyes, a grin on your face to tell him that you’ve found, hell, a cool rock? he knows you wouldn’t do that. you couldn’t do that, you’re too dense to even notice the raging hard on in his pants every time you so much as giggle.

the two of you are inside now, still left alone with each other and you decide to join him where he stood in the kitchen, hungry for something. you open the fridge, leaning down to slide the fruit drawer open, bending at the waist and fuck..

“hm?” you ask, perking up, leaning over to peek at him from behind the fridge door. did he say that aloud?

he scans your face a few minutes before striding over to where you stood. your nose twitches in confusion and despite not being scared, your ears pin themselves back, like a dog. you take a step away from the fridge, beginning to close the door behind you before he’s on you, pressing his arm past your head quickly, closing the fridge door with a bang. you jump slightly, staring at him with big, confused, and worried eyes and his cock fucking jumps because -

“do you know that i.. am a predator?” he mumbles, looking down his nose at you with lidded eyes.

theres a flash of fear in your expression and your mouth gapes slightly. “i know.” you squeak after a beat of silence, trembling hands coming to hold onto your shirt at the chest area

“you know?” he repeats, tilting his head lightly, eyes narrowing as you nod, barely noticeable. “you don’t act like you know.”

a sharp breath escapes you and it takes a minute for you to think of an answer, treading lightly.

“how am i supposed.. to act?”

“..be wary of me. act like at any moment i will pounce on you because fuck, i could.” he growls slightly, moving himself so his forearm is propping him up on the fridge and not his hand - making an already close proximity impossibly closer.

“you could?” you repeat, staring up at him with the same big, innocent eyes but now theres something missing - the worry. the fear. “why haven’t you?” it’s a small mumble, almost a nervous stammer, quiet and hesitant but he heard it. of course he heard it, you’re the only thing he is - and has been focusing on for days.

his heavy breaths pick up, and his stare never falters from your face, slowly scanning your features with calculating movements, immediately catching any change, so when a smile creeps on your lips, a little less innocent than your eyes and in a way, teasing, he catches it. immediately. and he pounces.

a desperate, muffled cry escapes from your wet lips, his big fingers pressing against your soft tongue, sometimes slipping so far back they’d tease your uvula, making you choke around his digits. his big, thick cock presses against your flush thigh for just a moment, leaving a trail of precum.

his hand that wasnt occupied in keeping you a little quieter is three fingers into your hole, tapping your prostate so hard your body jerks with every press. he’s skilled with his hands, a cocky grin overtaking his face as his ears twitch with every cute sound from your throat and every sloppy sound from your asshole. you’re tight, too tight, he’s not quite sure his dick will fit passed the tip, but he knows you want it, and god knows he wants it too.

the thought of filling you up, of wrecking your small body and moulding you into a cockwhore for him has been infecting his mind like a virus, and he’d be damned if he stopped for anything but a safe word.

a sob fills his ears and suddenly he realizes you’d came a few seconds ago, your legs trembling and kicking up from overstimulation, sensitive dick pressing into the mattress involuntarily before jerking away.

he coos, quite condescendingly, slipping his wet fingers out of your hole, placing a light tap on your balls.

“was it too much for you, bunny?” he asks, pulling you up so your back was flush with his chest, watching as you nod with a dazed look on your tear filled face.

“yeah?” a mischievous grin that you’re unable to see spreads across his lips and wandering hands snake around you, squeezing your pretty thighs, before grasping your hard cock. his breath hitches as his entire hand envelops your small cock and his own twitches, a groan escaping his throat.

“fuck,” he laughs, watching as your hips attempt to pull away from his hand. “so fuckin small compared to me.” he grins, beginning to fist your cock, twisting his wrist around it. your reaction is immediate, a loud wail echoing through the room, your hands reaching out to clasp around his bigger one in a silent plea for mercy.

with reluctance, he gives it to you, letting you fall forward on to the bed. you sniffle, hiccuping softly before pushing yourself to your knees, arching your back as far as you could with your chest to the bed, presenting your ass to him, your fluffy tail wagging in desperation.

his mouth practically waters, hand finding its way down to his dick, closing it around himself before you reach your hands behind, spreading yourself apart to expose your twitching hole. this was you submitting , giving him full control of your body and the situation, and suddenly his instincts were screaming at him to breed you. to rut into you so much that his cum was spilling out, to imprint himself onto you, and to knock you up. to fuck you so full you had to carry his pups.

his stomach coiled and suddenly he couldn’t think, he couldn’t reason. the only thing clear to him was to breed, breed, breed.

he flips you onto your back, using a generous amount of lube, allowing his cockhead to catch onto your hole. you whimper - he’s bigger than his fingers - much thicker, much longer, and much, much hotter. you barely have time to prepare yourself before he’s grabbing your thighs in his hands, the skin spilling over his fingers at how tight his grip is - and suddenly his cock is fucked into you at full force. he bottoms out first thing and even the sound of your voice is delayed, the air being punched from your chest as your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, before a loud shriek does jump through his ears as he begins rutting into you, as if he were a dog in heat.

overtaken with how tight you are around him, and how small you are compared to him, he presses your knees up, bending you in half, watching his big cock sink into your tight hole, and the sight is almost what tips him over.

“fu-huck,” he moans, his pelvis slapping harshly against your thighs with every sharp, deliberate piston of his hips. “takin’ me so well baby, pretty cunts sucking me in so nicely.”

his deep voice riddled with obvious need and want has your ass squeezing around him, your dick twitching as it slaps against your stomach with every rough thrust.

your noises are punched out of you and then cut off with every thrust, the harshness of them making your brain spin and legs convulse. his hold on you does nothing to hide the shaking of your thighs and body, and it makes him groan in satisfaction, a smug smirk overtaking his face.

your drool and tears slide down your chin, pretty, soaked eyelashes batting quickly as you struggle between keeping your eyes open or letting them roll back. his large frame adjusts on top of you, thrusts never faltering despite his red, burning cock growing closer to release. the new angle allows him to hold your legs flush to your chest with his shoulders, while giving room to hold your clawing hands into place and he smirks, before leaning back slightly - and his entire body jerks forward, mouth falling open, fangs baring to pierce harshly into your neck as his eyes roll back because fuck - the bulge in your soft stomach is proof enough that he’s making room in your gut for his huge cock, because you’re just so fucking small.

you kick and cry at his teeth piercing your skin because it hurts, it hurts, but you’re marked and claimed and now he wont stop. teeth covering the expanse of your neck, cock drilling into your prostate with no sign of stopping anytime soon. all you can do is take it like a whore.

“thas’ it.. good girl, my cock was jus’ made for you, isn’t that right, bunny?” he growls and your hard cock spits out something like cum again at just his words because god, his deep voice, the constant stimulation on your prostate and the dirty talk did something to you.

he’s rutting into you so roughly, goin’ so hard nd deep, and you claw at his shoulders, blunt nails doing no real damage, begging him with wails and sobs to hurry up and cum because your tiny cock is so spent nd your tight hole is gonna be gaping afterwards with the effort of fitting such a large cock into you.

for a moment you think this was a bad idea - you think that he wont stop until you’re passed out, his instincts running his brain too wild, but with a thrust up into your stomach and a press down onto his cock bulge from the outside - with help from a desperate wail and a squeal that escaped your mouth - he’s cumming buckets into your soft stomach with a mumbled, “gonna fuckin breed you bunny,” pumping his hot, sticky load into you, filling you so much it’s leakin’ onto the sheets, his knot pressing painfully against your ass hole, threatening a breach as he ruts up feverishly, growls and titters leaving his throat, canines biting into his lip.

hellooo, im kiyoshi, your writer, nd his is my first fanfiction ! its very self indulgent, nd eng isn’t my first language but if you enjoyed, this is me askin’ you to please reblog nd maybe even follow me to support writers ! we can become great friends ! ^.^

[prettyboykatsuki]

a guy whose crushing on you makes a comment about how you treat suo like a little brother since you dote on him so much which isn't entirely true since u r dating. you laugh along with it at the time not to be rude and it doesn't bother you. you figure it doesn't bother suo either until you're going home to fuck and he pins your arms back and calls you nee-san

[iaskedforcosmiclove]

@microcest Prompt: “Shhh…Don’t Let Mom Hear”

Fandom: Harry Potter

Ship: Sirius Black/James Potter Implied Regulus Black/Sirius Black w/ a dose of future Remus Lupin thrown in the mix.

Word count: 741

-------

"Nmph anpmh bremph," Sirius struggled behind the large hand cupping his mouth and nose. James loosened his grip to hear Sirius below him gasp for air. It was the dead of night, with only the moon shining through the sheer curtains in James' room. 

"Oh, shit, sorry." James stilled his movement, moving his hand to rest on Sirius' cheek, allowing him to take deep, steady breaths. 

"Okay, okay, I'm - ah - you can keep going - oh fuck" James braces himself, both hands palms down on each side of Sirius' head. Gripping the sheets, he slowly pulls out and thrusts back inside his best friend, his brother. This was the first summer break Sirius had spent every night at the Potters, his new home. 

"Pads, you need to keep it down."

"I'm trying just fuck; you feel so good, Jamie." This was the first summer break they did this almost nightly.

"Pads, please. Our mom's a light sleeper, you know that."

"Your mother." Sirius whispered with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Stop that, you're my brother. She loves you just as much."

"I already had a brother."

"Have, love. We'll get him out. We'll get him out and show him what a home feels like."

James quickened his pace, in and out in a steady rhythm mimicked by the smaller boys: Ah, ah, ah. James slowly lowered himself to his elbows, making sure his rhythm didn't falter. He placed his forehead on the others; they were breathing the same air. Puffs of hot breath tickled the other, lips centimeters apart, but they didn't kiss. James hasn't asked why. It's not something they do. 

"Kiss me," Sirius said, taking James by surprise. He looked into the other boy's eyes, trying to find anything that told him Sirius didn't mean it. All he saw was love. When their lips met, they made soft, gentle movements. They were passionate but not hungry. 

Their movements grew increasingly frantic, and their breathing became labored. Sirius lowered his right hand from their grip on James' hair and began to stroke himself as quickly as he could. James felt Sirius clench around his cock; he knew he was close. With a shuddering sigh, Sirius spilled over his hand and stomach as James gave one, two, three more thrusts and spilled inside his best friend. 

----

James wrapped his arm around Sirus' waist and pulled him close to his chest. They lay in the afterglow, waiting for their heart rates to slow and their breathing to even out. With his back against his chest, James couldn't tell if the smaller boy had fallen asleep until he spoke up. 

"He was my first kiss, and I was his... I haven't, not with anyone else." James didn't have to ask who Sirius was talking about. He knew he missed his brother, our brother. He knew the guilt that lived inside his best friend was eating away at him the longer he spent not knowing if he was okay. James squeezed Sirius a little closer to comfort him and remind him of his promise earlier that night. 

A few minutes passed before Sirius spoke up again. 

"Prongs?" 

"Mmm?" James replied sleepily, burrowing his face in Sirius' hair and breathing in his scent. 

"Do you think if we invite Moony to be with us, he'll want to?" James was waiting for Sirius to bring up their other best friend. He moved his head to rest his chin on the other boy's shoulder. 

"Like be with us or be with us?" 

"Both"

"I'd like him to be." And he did. James loved his best friends and would do anything to keep them all safe. 

"Me too…do you think – do you think he'd be weirded out about.."

"I think you can carve out Moony's heart with your bare hands, and he'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt." He knew he said the right thing as he felt his best friend wiggle in excitement and classic tell for his happiness. Leave it to Sirius Black to find that statement romantic. 

"I think I'm in love with him." 

"I know." and I'm in love with your brother, James thought, but that's a conversation for another day.

"I love you too, you know, and I love my--" His voice cracked, unable to finish his thought.

"I know, Pads; go to sleep, yeah? We'll owl Moony in the morning."

Both boys breathing evened out, and Euphemia Potter was able to go back to sleep. 

[sadhours]

Pervy Billy please 🤤🤤🤤

okay okay, here’s a teaser of my upcoming series stuck in the middle with you

billy hargrove x pamela oc!mayfield

cw: 18+ minors dni, perv!billy, stepcest, psuedocest, teasing, groping, dry humping and masturbation

🎀🤍🚬🍦

It’s like the little bitch does it on purpose. Those shorts can barely be classified as such, they’re practically just underwear and she’s prancing around the house like she’s trying to get a rise out of Billy. It’s making him pretty damn bricked up, just trying to enjoy his fucking bowl of Wheaties.

They’re alone. Neil and Susan shopping, like they do most Saturday mornings and Billy’s got no idea where Max is nor does he care. Pamela is doing her chores, pale blonde hair bouncing whenever she reaches down to grab miscellaneous clutter. Thanks to the motion, he also notices she’s not wearing a bra; breasts swaying under her thin cotton shirt. God, her legs are long, he thinks as he skates his eyes up and down them.

Billy’s aware he’s staring. Part of him thinks Pamela wants him to. He shovels another spoonful of cereal in his mouth before dropping the bowl in the sink for Pamela to clean. It’s her chore after all.

He’s got his own chores. Lists them off in his head; fix the leaky faucet in the bathroom, organize the garage, mow the lawn, wack all the weeds and take out the garbage. They can wait, he decides as he keeps his place in the kitchen and watches as his step sister continues on with her chores. Chews on his lip as she uses the scrunchie on her wrist to tie her hair up in a bun. She starts by cleaning off the counters, putting everything back in its place before she takes her place at the sink. A smirk spreads across his lips and he crowds behind her, places his hands on the counter to cage her in.

Pamela tilts her head, doesn’t look at him but exposes her neck like she’s expecting something. Billy takes these movements slow and calculated. He doesn’t want to scare her off, but then again, he’s sure Pamela is playing the same game he is. He laughs, soft as he towers over her. His breath fans over her neck and Pamela’s skin pricks with goosebumps as she wets the sponge. Squirts dish liquid on it before she finally speaks up, “Can I help you?”

Billy purses his lips, closes the gap between Pamela’s ass and his crotch as he tells her, “Just making sure you’re doing a good job is all.”

She snorts but continues cleaning the dishes and maybe Billy’s imagining it but he thinks he feels her push her ass back against him. So he grabs her waist, holds her steady and presses his lips against her exposed neck. It’s not a kiss. Just to feel her warm skin. Rolls his hips slow, testing before moving his hands to feel up her sides. Swooping forward and cupping her breasts in his palms.

He kneads them in his hands, shamelessly rolling his hips and Pamela elicits the prettiest little sound. A moan if Billy’s not mistaken and it makes him greedy. Slams his hips forward, grinding against her ass in those tiny shorts while he gropes at her tits. Pamela drops the silverware and sponge, gripping onto the edge of the counter as she pants.

“See what you’re doing to me?” Billy asks against her ear, rocking his hips forward again. Making sure she can feel the way his cocks hard in his basketball shorts. “Walking around in that shit… dressed like a fucking slut,” he pants, “Tryna get my attention, huh?”

“Billy,” she gasps, a whine of a thing.

He pulls her top up, just enough to expose her tits and gets his hands back on them. Pinches her nipples, rutting against her like the pathetic little perv he is.

“Billy.. we— ah, we can’t,” he babbles out, but she’s still grinding back against him.

“We can’t what?” he grunts out, nose bushing against her temple.

“Do this,” Pamela replies, hands moving to reach for his wrists. “It’s wrong.”

Billy knows it’s wrong. That’s part of why he can’t stop thinking about her like this.

But she’s right. This was probably far enough. He pulls away, looks down at her as she turns. Her pretty face all flushed. And he acts kind of like a child, stomping away to his room and slamming his door. Just to lean against it and shove his shorts down, get his cock out and wrap his hand around it.

“Fuck,” he whines, closing his eyes and imagines his step sister on her knees in front of him. “Oh, you slut,” he whispers, lips twisting up as he plays out this fantasy. Fucks his fist hard and fast, cumming with her name on his lips.

[necros-writing-stuff]

I don't know if you've answered this before so sorry if you have but what sparks Dare's interest in his spawn? Do they get basement treatment if they aren't receptive? What if they already have a partner?

I've been rotating this man in my mind like a hot pocket since I discovered your blog a few days ago. He's trash and I love him your honor. 💕

Oooo let's go over the multiple Darespawn options. So you have biologically his (Molly left the kid in the divorce, a sex worker had them after the condom broke) or adopted (his bestie from work died and he took the kid in out of grief). Again, ignoring the part about if Darespawn already has a partner.

The thing that sparks Dare's interest in his own kid in the event that he raised them is the moment they start talking about moving out and getting their own place. Permanently. For real. Not a dorm/flat with friends for uni, but their own place where they won't come home after a year because that will be home.

It kicks his fear of being alone into overdrive and he starts romanticising his memories of them in happy, close moments. He'll spend more time with them, take them more places, buy them things, until it clicks in his head that he's treating them like a partner he's trying to woo. There's disgust, at first. But the longer he goes on, the closer that day of departure gets, the less disgusting the thought is and the more enticing it gets. You did grow up to be so beautiful, didn't you?

So his hand starts getting a little too high on your thigh. He's kissing the back of your neck, just where it connects with your shoulder, as you're making breakfast. He's placing necklaces on you with lingering touches and the look in his eyes is downright molten.

He'll put you in the basement if he has to. He'd really rather not. But if you don't shyly spread your legs when he comes to you in the bath and washes your legs for you, if you don't let him "clean" your hole and dip his fingers in just a little, he might have to just put a collar and chain around your neck and drag you downstairs.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Imagine an Eden dismissal event where you can convince Eden to adopt you and become your legal guardian instead of your LI and bangmaid. Being sent to the cage is the equivalent of being grounded. Eden doesn’t disappear but will leave the player alone. Will still spank the PC if they misbehave. Eden will continue to rescue the PC. They’ll no longer expect lewd favors but still have companionship in the form of PC being like their child. Do you think Eden would ever accept such a proposal? I believe Eden would crack eventually.

I don't think Eden would accept it at all. If Eden wants kids they'll make them if they can. Eden wants a spouse, Eden wants you for that.

Also yeah even if they did accept we know calling Eden dad (and I'm guessing mom for fem Eden) would make them jump your bones if they were horny. If give them a day before they crack. Thank you Vrel for giving us this wonderful Eden lore. Daddy Eden...

[necros-writing-stuff]

Omggggg now I can’t stop picturing Eden telling PC to do something around the cabin and them jokingly saying “On it dad” and Eden gets huffy like “Don’t say that, it’s inappropriate” but PC notices his cheeks are red. So of course that means they keep calling him that- when they sit in his lap for breakfast, when he goes out hunting, when they hand him his plate of lunch, when they ask him to wash their back for them in the bath- until Eden gets so worked up he pins them down and fucks them silly. All the while they’re arching their back and drooling with eyes rolled back in their head, begging their daddy for more.

It fills his head with images of your belly round and swollen, his child growing inside of you.

It makes you seem so meek, so in need of his protection and guidance. You'd fit just perfectly as a house spouse, raising the kids (yes, he wants multiple), and keeping the place clean. Keeping him happy while he does everything to keep you all fed and warm.

Every little utterance of the word has him blinking and wiping his hand over his face to dispell the thoughts. He already has you right where he needs, he can have his fantasy at any moment. Yet when you call him dad... he wants it now.

So much for the patience he's had over the years. He'll have to show you exactly what it means to try him so much. Bend you in half, stuff himself as deeply as possible. Keep your legs up to stop anything dripping out once he's done.

[necros-writing-stuff]

So Darius calls us 'kid' and likes when we call him 'dad' in bed, but he wouldn't actually do anything to a child he has with us right? ;;; Like I'm ALLLL for messed up role play, but he's not an actual threat in that way, right?

He wouldn't touch his kid, nah. The reason Dare is into incest roleplay is because (and drum roll please everybody)...

Daddy issues!

Yes that's right this middle aged man has daddy issues of his own.

Dare needs to feel strong. He needs to feel in power. The person and position he remembers as strong is his dad when he was little - he wants to be that memory kinda? And he wants you to feel as small as Dare did when he was little, wants you to respect him and look up to him like that.

And then of course you add all the sexual elements, and now it's incest roleplay.

If it was a teacher he respected it would have been a teacher kink, if it was a boss he respected he'd have a Sir kink. He just happened to latch onto the father role, so he wants to be called dad.

[necros-writing-stuff]

18+, Minors trundle along.

Needing to speak about my other toxic yaoi ship BruDick, so yahoo here we go.

Warnings: Poor Jaylad's descriptive verbs just got downgraded to past-tense (he dead). Bruce punches Dick. One-sided BruDick.

Dick growing up, idolising this man who took him in and trained him. Who kept him fed and warm (though keeping him safe is very debatable). Who refuses to call him son, even on that night he left for college and threatened to never come back.

Now, had he asked to be referred to as Bruce's son? No. Did he need it for his own peace of mind? Yes. If Bruce saw him as family it might have stomped out those guilt-ridden fantasies he'd had first in his bed at the manor, then in his college dorm, and finally in Blüdhaven. The fantasies where Bruce followed him into the cave's showers after patrol, pressed his front to the slickened tiles and took him with a large, scarred palm over his mouth lest Alfred hear and catch them.

It was a fantasy that turned more violent the months he and Bruce had argued. First about Robin being taken from him, then about Jason. Jason, who got Robin - a uniform he designed after his dead parents! Jason, who got to be a Wayne. But it wasn't the boy's fault. It was Bruce's. Over a decade at each other's side and it felt like Bruce was trying to wipe the slate clean. To get rid of him.

Things have been okay recently, at least. Dick feels half-excited as the Titan's ship lands and he steps onto Earth for the first time in what felt like forever. He and Jason could go out for ice-cream when he got back, maybe take a day out at the arcade. He could see Bruce. Maybe even share a smile with him.

It should have been that way. When his phone was flooded with notifications and the TV in the Tower were reporting on Bruce Wayne's first public appearance since his son's funeral, Dick knew he might never get a chance at building his family again.

Bruce's number was not amongst the seedy journalists trying to reach out for comment. Alfred's also wasn't, but the old man knew better than to intercede on Bruce's behalf. He was a grown man. He should have told Dick. He should have tried, even knowing that he was in space.

The cave has never felt so silent when Dick steps down the stairs. It's like the bats above are scared to squeak. Bruce is in front of the Batcomputer, hunched, his face hidden but sparse glimpses of a stubbled jawline peaking through. He hasn't been taking care of himself. Dick almost instinctively wants to reach forward, guide him to the bathroom, shave it for him. As though he were stitching up a shoulder wound for him. As though they were still Batman and Robin.

Even with emotions running high, even with Dick's own temper flaring, he had not expected Bruce to throw a punch. He had not expected his mentor, in all of his grief and heartbreak, to turn it outwards onto him. When Bruce grieved, it was turned inward. That was how Dick knew him. That was what he expected. He thought that when Dick came to him, demanded to know why he didn't hear about Jason from Bruce, that his mentor would emotionally shut down and deflect.

Running his tongue over where his tooth dug into the inside of his cheek, Dick tastes his own blood. As his mentor rips his keys from him and demands he never return home, his chest tightens. Everything feels hot. His chest, his cheeks, the pressure behind his eyes. Things had been good. He had a little brother. He almost had a father again.

It's seems now he never will. Bruce will never acknowledge him as his own. He'll never let him back into his life when the two times he'd blown up at Dick weren't even Dick's fault.

Perhaps Bruce is expecting a fight when Dick stands up and steps closer. Perhaps he's rearing back because he's waiting for a headbutt. The stone-stillness when Dick's lips press to his own, when Dick squeezes his forearmes tight, when an angry tear drips down and taints the kiss with salt.

It's an insane thing to do. To kiss Bruce, now of all times, when the younger man's cheek is already bruising. But it's also the only time. Because Dick knows he'll never see him again.

With all of his training, the legendary dark knight has nothing when his former protégé pulls away. He has nothing when Dick ascends the steps back into the manor and he's left alone once more, his empty mind echoing more than the deafness of the cave.

He just wants his son back. He isn't quite sure which one he means anymore.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Darius Radner/AFAB reader ("you" used as the pronoun) lil dribble drabble.

Warnings for uh... you're a sugar baby for creepy ass Dare, who enjoys being physically abusive with you and refers to you as kid every so often even though you're very much an adult because he has gross fantasies. Oh, and dacryphilia.

You can't breathe. Nothing is stopping you, but you can barely breathe from how badly you're hyperventilating beneath the behemoth of a man abusing your poor cunt. All the while he ignores your sobbing.

It's a messy kind of crying, your face splotchy, drool running down your chin while your hole similarly weeps its own juices. It shouldn't be, not for this brute treating his body like a battering ram.

Pressed down on his bed, belly against the soft sheets, Darius' large hand grips your hair tightly. It pulls at the roots, keeping your head up and every sob that escapes your mouth from being muffled. He likes hearing it, you think. He likes knowing what misery he brings every time you're herded beneath him.

"Oh - I'm not comfortable doing anything like sex-work," you'd turned him down with a smile. That was months ago, Darius having been a regular at the bar you served at. He knew you were struggling with necessities. He knew dangling the money over your head would either bring you to his beck and call or at least keep you quiet when he took what he wanted anyway.

How many times had it happened now? How many times had he called you over to his car once your shift ended, those dark eyes promising nothing but pain if you refused him in that dark lot? You'd mostly end up back here, at his home, in his bed while he used you like a toy. Sometimes he just took you in his car.

"That's it kid, scream for me again," his words hissed from between his teeth, the pleasure building for him more and more - something he emphasised with a whip-like smack to your already bruised ass.

Darius got his wish. He heard you bawl beneath him with enough sorrow that you'd think you were mourning.

And you supposed you were. You were mourning the part of you that knew how to defend yourself.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Fuck it, another discord ramble. This time on the menu we have Uncle Eden getting diddled by his yandere nibling. 100% not proofread lol.

Gn reader, noncon, brief choking, Eden is tied up and drugged, somno, psuedocest.

I'm imagining Eden sleeping at Bailey's for a week to take care of his precious kiddo, not allowed to be left alone because so many people would hurt them while Bailey is out of town. They refuse to go into the forest because they have work or college things to do, so Eden has to bite the bullet and come into town. It's all part of their plan, though. Getting the gruff man out of his comfort zone so that his sense of control is wavered. So that he relies on them for a sense of normality and trusts them because of it.

He insists that that stay home as long as possible. Walks them between places when they need to go anywhere. Goes to sleep after them, tries to wake up before them. They lean into it, playing as helpless and innocent while hiding exactly how like their dad they actually are. Because they have a penchant for manipulation, one that Eden overlooks due to his close proximity to them.

They thought they'd be content just recieving all of Eden's attention throughout the week, but as the days come to an end they have an itching under their skin. A longing for more of his touch beyond the chaste kisses to the cheek and platonic cuddles on the couch. They propose a meal. A nice one, in the dining room - they'll be cooking! A treat, a thank you for all Eden has done for them. Eden's steak gets a special seasoning - crushed up sleeping pills massaged into the meat. A pill in his whiskey just to make sure. It has to taste bad, Eden's face scrunches up when he takes a bite, but their bright smile keeps him from saying anything. He couldn't dissapoint them by insulting their gift.

The poor hunter finds it hard to stay awake in his seat, resting his head on his fist as he pokes at the veggies left on his plate. He fights the fluttering of his eyes, shaking his head each time they close. But he can't fight it forever. Soon enough, his eyes close properly and the fork falls onto the plate. Bailey's little demon spawn licks their lips as the slink from the room, fetching the rope from the kitchen and returning with a skip in their step as they tie up their dear Uncle.

They take care to stop him falling into his plate as they bind his legs and arms, using the final length to secure his torso to the backrest for extra safety. With all of the ropes it's hard to undo his pants. They have to cut them open, same with his underwear to get at what lies below. Their heart pounds, their mouth goes dry as their hands clam up.

Fascinated, they take his soft cock in their hands, playing with the length and marvelling at how it hardens the more attention they give. Eden lets out small puffs of breath in his sleep, his hips jolting when they pull at him a little to hard. They're quick to slow down again. They'd never hurt their dear Uncle. They only want to make him feel good. He'll understand when he wakes up - he has to.

It takes everything they have to tear themself away, but they manage after a few minutes. As quickly as they can they sprint to their room to uncover the bottle of lube they had hidden away; a sneaky purchase made at the pharmacy when Eden wasn't looking. They're back beside him in an instant, their pants being kicked off of their legs as they open the cap; curse when they release the safety thing is still on to stop leaks; remove the damn thing as they stand with one leg stuck in their pants; then finally squirt a large amount onto their hand as they slip a finger into their hole.

They consider spending longer working themself, but instead ignore the burning stretch as they get to three fingers as quickly as possible. There's plenty lube left on their hand when they're done, a hand that wraps around Eden half-hard cock and lathers it up as they ensure he's fully hard and ready.

It's been a while since they've had these dreams about Eden. The haunting dreams of his hands all over their body, his whispered words in their ear as he bounces them up and down on their lap. Every morning they'd awaken to nothing but disappointment. Sweet Eden wouldn't touch them. He'd never see them as nothing more than family. Not without some pushing, that is. He needs this. They're meant for each other, he just needs to have his eyes opened.

There's a few stumbles as they get into his lap, his damn thick thighs making them stretch to sit comfortably. They can't reach the floor with their toes as they sit there. A core workout, then. But worth it. With a long hiss, they raise themself up and slide down onto his cock slowly, gritting their teeth as the stretching keeps them from riding the hunter hard and fast as they want to do.

Leaning back onto the table with their elbows helps them find a rhythm when they finally reach the hilt, ignoring the slight pain as they desperately circle their hips and shamelessly moan. The moans are almost a performance - even as Eden sleeps. He'll wake up at any moment, he deserves the first thing he hears and sees to be enticing. With shaking hands, they take off their shirt, flinging it to the floor as they push Eden discarded plate back so they can lean further back into the table and quicken their hips. He's just so big - so filling.

They need more, they need this to never end.

Groans slip from Eden's lips, his head rolling to his shoulder as his eyes struggle to open. A frown turns his lips down, his brows furrowing as their name slips out on a quiet breath.

"Stop..." He tries, clearing his throat as he tries to move. Eden doesn't seem to notice that the ropes are their yet, brain too fogged up to distinguish between outside forces and the lethargy of his own limbs.

"Shh, shh, its okay," they insist, leaning forward to kiss along his jaw and wrap their arms around his wide shoulders. "I'm taking care of you, just let me do it."

The poor hunter still can't quite wake up, more whispers of their name and begging for them to stop as his head lolls forward to rest on their shoulder. His scent is intoxicating, his surprising assailant burying their nose in his hair, loosening the tie that keeps the longer length back to feel the tresses falling over their face. Despite his protests, they feel his cock twitch inside of them. They feel the slight kicks of his hips as they pepper kisses up his neck and suckle on the sensitive patches of skin behind his ear.

Audibly, Eden swallows. His body presses forward as the chair and ropes creak, his strength returning. Yet he remains bound, frustrated growls ringing in their ear.

"Come on, little one. This isn't like you... just let me out," he continues, breathless, yet his voice is losing the grogginess of sleep.

"I promise you'll like it," they return, their kisses coming back up his chin as they attempt to capture his mouth.

Eden is quicker than they expect, dodging the kiss and instead pressing his face to their neck. They chuckle for a second only to yelp when the feeling of his teeth digging into their flesh registers. It's not hard enough to bleed, not even to break the skin. Even now, Eden can't bring himself to hurt them.

They laugh, holding his head to their neck to encourage his biting, their fingers pulling at his hair.

Eden grunts again, his body tensing, his breath fanning across their shoulder, his- His cock spurting rope after rope of seed right into them as the large man shivers and groans.

They stop moving. Their eyes blink as they pull Eden away from their neck slowly, trying to meet his eyes as he attempts to keep his gaze distant.

"Eden?"

He swallows once more, redness creeping up his neck and colouring his cheeks. The silence fills the dining room, awkward and cloying. Slowly, they rolls their hips once more, the need in their gut still their even as Eden's cock softens inside of them.

"Stop!" he yells, eyes going wide as his struggles double in effort.

"No, it's okay, it happens-"

"Why wont you fucking listen?"

"You'll get over the sensitivity, just let me finish."

"That's not the problem!"

Tears gather in their eyes at Eden's denial. He's never yelled at them before. He doesn't have the wherewithall to dodge the kiss this time. They need it, they need him to stop talking, need him to at least pretend.

Eden tries to pull away as their lips meet, but they follow. He keeps his lips sealed as they lick at them. He keeps making muffled noises as they grind their hips harder once more.

Every time he attempts to get out of the chair they feel his muscled body press against their own, his hips sometimes meeting their own and making him hit deeper than before. They gasp, breaking the kiss, whining into another kiss as poor Uncle Eden focuses his efforts on struggling.

Doesn't he remember who taught them all those knots? He did. That's why they know they won't come loose.

Abruptly, Eden stops struggling. It brings hope, hope that he's finally giving in or just too burnt out to keep trying. God, it feels so good to be joined like this. To be this close as his sweat rubs off on them. To pet his chest and rake their fingers down his exposed chest hair, the buttons on his shirt coming undone in the struggle.

Maybe they should have paid more attention to Eden's change. In the end it didn't matter, not as that tightness in their stomach built ever tighter until it teetered right on the edge of snapping. Just a little more, just a few more seconds, just-

Eden's hand raising registers in the corner of their eye as they lean away to gasp for air. It strikes quickly, his large hand wrapping around their throat. It's too late, or perhaps just what they needed to push them over the edge and finish right then and there. It almost sounds like they're sobbing as they cum, the noises becoming strangled as Eden squeezes down on their throat. Insistent to drain bit of pleasure they can, they hurry their grinding, expecting to be pushed away.

They aren't. Eden's head rests against their shoulder, the hunter making another animalistic sound as he shudders. It's hard to giggle when he's choking them, but they feel the bubbling joy in their chest. He came again. Them finishing made him cum again.

Exhausted, satisfied and exhilarated, they let their body relax. Eden's grip in their throat loosens but his hand stays where it his, holding them. They choose to think of it as a loving embrace. This silence is far less awkward for them, more peaceful.

"... Let me out now. Seriously."

"So the past asks weren't serious?"

"Don't tease me, little one. I'm not in a good mood right now."

They tut, and just to be petty they stay right where they are for a few more seconds. It's also just nice to bask in the feeling of being like this. And their legs feel like jelly.

It's a struggle to get up, their mood right up high as they fetch their knife from their abandoned pants. Eden refuses to look at them as they undo the bindings, instead he glares at his whiskey and his plate, pupils flitting between the two as he tries to figure out which is to blame.

"I put it in both, just in case," they confess.

Eden lets out a heavy sigh. He swats their hand away as they go to move his hair behind his ear, stumbling to his feet.

"Did you have to cut up my clothes?" It's nothing but a mumble as he makes his way slowly upstairs. The drugs are still in his system, he likely needs more sleep. He's always grumpy when he's sleepy, he'll have a better outlook on all of this when he wakes up. They know this for certain.

They can't stop smiling as they clean up the dining room. Not when they know that they'll crawl into his bed and spend their final night alone together, in each other's arms, before their father returns in the next afternoon.

[necros-writing-stuff]

I've been reading through all your Darius stuff, and I feel like we don't talk enough about Barista Victim. Cute little thing who Dare sees every morning before work to buy his coffee. Just a nice, kind young person who smiles at him in the mornings. Speaks with their sweet customer service voice and makes small talk and is so kind to him... Always smiles when he walks in (because she has to) and he thinks they're just as excited to see him as he is to see them. Totally misreading customer service as a flirtation or genuine human connection. One day they say something like "You know Mr. Darius you remind me of my dad a little! He's a loner too." And Dare has to FIGHT the throbbing boner in his pants.

Barista reader returns!

Aight how's this. Darius overhears the owner talking about needing some renovation work done and offers his services. You won't be there while he and his crew are working - but oftentimes neither will the owner. Leaving the office computer unguarded.

Stupid to leave the login details in an unlocked desk. Your address isn't on the spreadsheet, but your phone number is. He may be middle-aged, but Darius knows what websites to plug it into to find your address. He knows how to use it to find any social media you've connected it to for verification - and now he can stalk them. He has no clue what these media things you post about are, and he gets jealous over how much you post one fictional dude.

When your shift ends and you head home, there's always a sense of being watched. You have to draw your curtains closed as soon as you're in - if you even opened them when you left. The paranoia got so bad you put bigger screws in your doorframe to make it harder to bust down. Just in case.

Every morning Darius comes in, with his leering stare and insensitive comments, you feel that same creeping nausea. Yet there's no proof. No proof at all that he's done anything. That fake smile wavers visit after visit, though. He's even started telling you the classic "You're pretty when you smile," or "Hey, I haven't heard you laugh in a while. Your boyfriend break up with you or something?"

Darius knows he's never seen anyone but you in your apartment and that you've never posted about a boyfriend, but hey maybe he missed something. Always good to fish for more as subtly he can. To come across as a concerned patron.

The way the skin around your eyes creases in disgust tells him he has to stop playing the waiting game, though.

[prettyboykatsuki]

kaiser with a kind motherly manager who says "you did great!" or "good job!" after a successful interview/press appearance and it sounds like she's praising a dog who just learned a new trick. kind of baby talking him just a little without realizing and he gets so bricked up and immediately bothered by it that he like. speed walks out of the room.

its so bad for him KSDHFJ

its like. the important part of this is that he really kind of rejects the relationship at first i think. kaiser is such a huge pain to deal with and his agency has bounced him through like several diff managers and they've all been driven completely insane by him - men and women. and so they take a different approach and instead of giving someone more professional, they have u step up to the plate

and you're like. an impenetrable wall. you have some experience with kids (maybe your own, maybe just childcare) and it's enough that it makes you this like source of complete Calm. its so easy for people to get annoyed with kaiser

its on purpose too. he knows exactly what buttons to push to make people angry and it's rare someone can get under his skin very sincerely. he figures you'll be just like the rest of them and give up on trying to be his friend or reason with him eventually. they all do.

but. But. you're Maternal in a way that makes kaiser feel like a kid throwing a tantrum any time he does or says things. no matter what kind of insults or berating he does you're just Firm. basically gentle parenting him. AND you're persistent about him.

one time, very much joking, kaiser does something you ask the first time and you practically Beam at him. and maybe just as a reaction, you sort of ruffle his hair and smile with your eyes crinkled and go "see? wouldn't it be nice if you could be a good boy like this all the time?"

instant hard-on. fuck fuck fuck fuck his life fuck everything. thankfully you dont notice but he does and he thinks about ending it all.

and then. subconsciously. he does get just the SLIGHTEST bit more agreeable. just a little tiny bit. and everytime he acts half decent you do the thing again. you really are very Motherly. you're an older woman so he guesses it makes sense but sometimes the way you tell him you'll treat him to dinner after a good match makes him feel the full extent of it. its very mother and her troubled son and he is Less Against that then he should be. the lines are sooooo blurry.

he wants to fight it so bad and he tries so hard but he has a wet dream about you in a way that makes him feel like he's regressed. if he was normal he could pass it off as a crush but the dream is of you letting him suck your tits while you give him a handjob and he stops being able to deny what it is and it plagues and ruins his life.

i think he comes onto you eventually. and it is genuinely in an attempt to push you away and make you disappointed. but then you flip it on him and give him a sexual favor and pull his pants back up for him afterwards and pat his thigh and he's so panicky and Oh No

its so bad JKDFHFSJKD. its so so bad you ruined him and he also becomes possesive over you in a distinct way. it's so misplaced like he's proving freud very right because you're not his mom. you're not.

but the kind of entitlement and the way you are the object of his sexual desire can only be attributed to some weird mother son shit. mind you not a mommy kink. there's not really a roleplay to it for him. he just kind of blatantly wants you to mother him. and it's so so so bad. he's such a freak

[prettyboykatsuki]

your tags + my og tags on that barou post

we are very much on the same page …..feeling insane….

GREAT MINDS THINK ALIKE

barou has crazy range but the subconscious urge to be a father figure wins out every time he even questions it. its a little too natural for him to slip into you. barou likes when you text him where you are and who you’re with if you’re out for a long time and one of your friends makes fun of u going “what is he, your dad?” and when you repeat this back to him he is very clearly having a Reaction to it. and it’s worse bc you are having the same one

[prettyboykatsuki]

Fang you are literally ruining my life. Being a friendly "older sister" figure in ness's life who inadvertently gets put into the position of "mother" for the two of them...

You're so sweet to Ness, so comfortably teasing and supportive... Something about Ness brings out the older sister in u and so u dote on him and take care of him and kaiser sees it all. Sees how it makes Ness improve, sees how it centers Ness in a way that kaiser can't, sees how it changes him in some imperceptible way that kaiser doesn't understand (that he tells himself he doesn't want to understand).

And because there is no Ness without kaiser, you take him on as well. You have bratty younger siblings too so u treat him as u would them. And it frustrates him more than a little. You don't take the bait. You just give him that knowing look like youve done all of this before, heard all of this before. And you tell him it's okay if he's feeling snappy. Does he want a drink? A snack? A nap?

You're more than happy to take care of him too if he'll let you.

And god help him, he wants to.

And god help him, he does.

It's minor at first. A warm smile and praise so buttery warm that he kind of wants to rip his own skin off, kind of wants to crawl into yours. A soft, almost absentminded pat on the head where he has to fight the urge to bite your hand (and he sees in your eyes that you know this and he sees in your eyes that the forgiveness is already there). A scarf, clumsy and handmade, that he rubs his face into until the smell of you fades.

And, as everything does, his feelings for you start twisting. His perception of you starts to shift just as his behavior does. He's not soft, not docile, but it's enough for you to notice. Enough for you to smile and praise and embrace him with your arms wide open.

He asks Ness point blank what he thinks of you. Blushing and nervous, Ness says that you're a friend. A really good friend. Kind of like a big sister, maybe?

And kaiser corrects him.

No, not like a big sister. More like a mom.

Kaiser hears the way ness' breath catches. Of course he does. There's excitement there. Embarrassment and shame too. That's fine, Kaiser can work with that.

Because Ness is sweet and docile. Ness and his big baby eyes and soft voice brings out the most nurturing warmth from you.

Which is why kaiser knows that this time, when he sends Ness to you with his quietly spoken platitudes and hopeful glances, you'll finally take the bait.

hold on . hold on Hold on hold on Hold on . hold on