#how to handle nonconsensuality

[palaceoftears]

What did consort Shu even see in him? Like I do get the teenage crush part, but then in the harem he never treated her with genuine care untill he felt bad for his own doing. Don't get me wrong, I felt awful for her and hated the emperor as always, but I still think her character was way too bland, like a Ruyi 2.0 but without all the things that make her a complex character, only with her loyalty to the emperor that in this case didn't even make sense. I think Yihuan was there to be an example of what the emperor is capable of doing because of his paranoia, and also to contrast Yanwan's opportunism with her devotion. It is funny though that the drama is showing you how Qianlong screws everyone and that being loyal to him changes nothing, but also romanticizes devotion all the time (I'm talking about all those scenes with Ruyi & Yihuan being refered as different from the others because they're the only ones that care for him). The madonna/whore complex may be a too western term to talk about this (and also I hate it when it's thrown around randomly for any comparison of two female characters) but there's definetly a patron of good girlies that genuinely love the emperor always being shown praying & charming him w their knowledge and the manipulative evil ones that use him for their own interests potrayed as seductive, sexually active (w this I mean they are the only ones whose sexual relations with the emperor are implied via more than just getting pregnant) and yearning for other men that don't love them.

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (keigo does talk ab making you a mommy tho, and you refer to yourself as his girlfriend once), reader is a civilian, this is pre-war, reader and keigo are dating, no lube no protection (all night all day), baby trapping lowk????, idk he nonconsensually cums in you and then proposes (you accept tho), creampies, cockwarming, kinda lazy ending?? idgaf GENRE: smut SUMMARY: it’s the start of mating season and keigo had just saved a mother and her child at work today, so it’s only natural for him to come home with the overwhelming need to knock you up. WORD COUNT: 2.6K 🦊’s A/N: keigo they could Never make me hate you…. anyway hope yall enjoy this fr

     not only was today the first day of his rut, meaning his last day of hero work until the spring was over, but he had also gone out of his way to save a mother and her crying child while off-duty. he’d been heading home after an eventful and tiring patrol when he ran into them being threatened by a petty mugger—nothing he couldn’t handle, especially after the day he’d had, but he can imagine having a gun pointed to your face must be scary to an untrained civilian. now, he was brimming over with emotions, barely keeping his cool as he walks through the threshold of your shared home, slamming the door loudly behind him, wings all puffed up and ruffled.

     “keigo? honey, what’s wron—” you’re suddenly cut off by a small flurry of his feathers sweeping you off your feet and carrying you from the kitchen towards where he stood in the living room, in the process of stepping out of his boots and shrugging his jacket off. you’re immediately taken aback by his serious demeanor and you open your mouth to say something, except that no words come out. what should you say?

     “how was your day..?” you ask tentatively after a brief moment of silence. 

     rather than verbally answering you, he lets out a long, drawn out sigh and shakes his head — a response you’re unfamiliar with. usually, he isn’t afraid to yap for at least fifteen minutes about how his day went, what happened, and sometimes even the people or fellow pros he talked to! so for him to remain silent…. well, it’s safe to say you’re starting to get worried. 

     had you done something wrong? was today exceptionally challenging? your heart rate increases as your anxious thoughts swirl around in your foggy mind, and you don’t know where to go from here.

     keigo knew what to do, though; he knew exactly how to relieve this stress.

     taking a step in your direction, he narrows his eyes, intense, predatory gaze locked onto yours, and suddenly, he’s leaning in for a kiss as he backs you up against the nearest wall. 

     the way he kisses you is controlled and barely put together, and you can tell he’s on edge, like he’s about to snap, so you say what you think he needs to hear.

     “you can rough me up a bit, kei, i promise i won’t break.”

     his eyes fly open at your words before narrowing as he nods before leaning back in with much more passion and any restraint right out the window. but he himself has said it before, he’s awful—he has no self-control; something that rang especially true when it came to you. 

     he’s spent whole evenings with his head buried between your thighs, eating you out until you’re crying and begging him to stop, saying it hurts, it hurts!, to which he always asks you for just one more. “one more” never meant one more, of course—keigo was greedy in this sense. he could never seem to get enough of you, always wanting more, more, more. if he could, he’d devour you whole, make you his entirely, and—that’s exactly what he was going to do tonight. he had been planning to propose for a while now, anyway. he had a ring and everything! he’d.. just been working up the courage to ask. so, then what better way than by deciding to knock you up on a whim. 

     well, …was it really a whim if he had fantasized about it before? the two of you had been dating since the summer of last year, meaning you haven’t seen him during his ruts yet, and, while he’s mentioned it briefly in the past, he didn’t actually expect to last this long with you so he never divulged the details of it—not because he wasn’t in love with you, but because he gave up on the dating scene because he’s always the one being dumped for being so. so. !!!! outwardly nonchalant about most things! or being married to his work, whatever they meant by that; he only worked so hard so he could have a future to relax in! no one ever seemed to understand that…. until he met you.

     something just clicked between the two of you upon your first meeting—you were probably the most interesting person hawks had ever saved, be it your quirk, your personality and mannerisms, or even something as simple as a remark you had made in the five something minutes it took to save you; he found himself unable to get you out of his head for days afterwards, eventually causing him to seek you out to ask a bewildered you on a date—just one, he had originally said.  

     you said yes immediately for a multitude of reasons—he was fine as fuck, he’d literally saved your life the other day, not to mention he was witty, and spoke his mind, too—something keigo hadn’t been expecting. he knew all of the above things, and yet, found himself somewhat nervous as he handed you a bouquet of pale red carnations, red camellias, and baby’s breath. he’d stayed up all night researching flower language and symbolism, deciding on the perfect ones to give to you, as he knew it was rude to show up to somebody’s house empty-handed, and, also, because… he’d never really felt this way about anyone before. there was something so magnetic between the two of you….

     but that’s enough reminiscing—he needs to be in the present moment, needs to focus on fucking you so good you go braindead on his dick, focus on cumming so deep in you, there’s no way you couldn’t not be pregnant with his child. keigo understood that having children as the number two pro hero would be no easy feat, but he thinks with you by his side, he can do anything. 

     sliding his tongue over the seam of your lips, one gloved hand comes up to squish your cheeks enough to force your lips to part for him and he easily slips the wet muscle into your mouth, taking his time sliding it along the insides of your cheeks, the grooves of your teeth, and the roof of your mouth, carefully exploring every inch and committing it to memory (as if he hadn’t already). 

     meanwhile, his other hand settles on your hip, massaging it lightly for a moment before his grip quickly tightens and he’s coaxing your tongue out of your mouth and into his as he begins to suck on it.

     “mmh,” you hum pleasantly, starting to drool as you let keigo decide how to use you in order to relieve his stress. 

     “missed ya t’day, dove,” he murmurs against your lips before nipping at your tongue and you feel your heart flutter. what had gotten into him? you weren’t necessarily complaining, but you still felt a little worried about him if you were being totally honest.

     keigo, sensing your unease, slowly pulls away from the kiss to ask if something was wrong, just for you to deflect the question back onto him. 

     “‘m fine, it was just a long day is all,” he tells you in earnest, leaving out the part about the beginning of his rut. “need’a feel you s’bad, though,” he breathes out, moving to kiss you again; tilting his head, he slots his lips back over yours, and it feels like he’s going to eat you alive. and, truthfully, he just might.

     before you even realize what he’s doing, he’s picking you up, wrapping your legs around his narrow waist, and carrying you into the bedroom where he’s pinning you to the mattress, wings spread wide for you to admire as you look up at him. you’re sure his words held a bit of truth to them, but he was behaving a little oddly for reasons you couldn’t put together yet. 

     him being a horny little shit wasn’t the unusual bit, but rather, his upbeat demeanor was nowhere to be found—even if it was an act almost all the time, it still felt weird to see him so serious looking.

     “kei…”

     “shh, stop worrying, sweets,” he shushes you, leaning in for another hungry kiss. you oblige him of course, parting your lips and poking your tongue out to meet his as you close your eyes

     his large wings create an almost dome around the two of you, shutting out the world, only leaving room for the two of you, and not another soul. 

     perhaps it would be best to sit back, relax, and let your boyfriend play with you… so that’s exactly what you do, settling fully onto the soft bed and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in closer—something that had him smirking against your soft lips. 

     it’s not long before you’re both naked, having grown too hot for the unnecessary layers separating your bare bodies, and soon, you suddenly have a pillow tucked under your hips, keeping them at an angle—something that confuses you.

     “keigo?”

     “just relax, dove.”

     he leans in closer, bringing his lips to yours as his one hand grasps at your hip, blunt nails (that he has to trim daily, mind you, lest they grow into talons) digging into the tender flesh there while his other grabs at his leaky cock, tapping it against your clit a couple times before lining it up with your slit and slowly pushing in, doing his best to show restraint and not bottom out in one fluid motion. you both groan at the feeling, the stretch so deep you almost feel nauseous.

     bringing two fingers down to your pulsing clit, he rubs semi-rough circles against the little bud, trying his hardest not to overwhelm you, but needing to hurry up and get you off so he can stuff you full of his cum.

     “mmmh,” you moan quietly as he focuses on working you up to your first orgasm out of many for the long night he had planned for you.

     it’s not long before you’re cumming with a cry and suddenly, keigo’s got his dick lined up with your slick little hole, easing himself in as he bites his bottom lip, trying not to whimper. 

     “fuuuck, you’re so tight, sweets,” he groans, rocking his hips into your, unkempt pubes brushing against your neatly trimmed ones. 

     your hands come up to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, before you’re tugging at his wings, and you feel his dick twitch inside you.

     “don’t,” is all he’s able to get out, burying his face in the crook of your neck, where he begins sucking and biting at the skin there. 

     “why not?” you grin like an idiot, already knowing the answer. you knew damn well just how sensitive keigo’s wings were—already having had this discussion when you first started having sex and you went to grab at them for the first time.

     “don’t ask stupid questions when you know the answer, dove,” he warns.

     you, ever the brat, decide to start stroking on his wings, and you feel his hips stutter and teeth sink into the column of your throat. 

     “nngh–!” you whine, tugging on the bright red feathers. keigo moans loudly at this, and quickly grabs the backs of your thighs to fold you in half and start fuckin’ pounding into you—his thrusts are fast and sloppy, and the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin turns you on even more, pussy drooling around his dick.

     it doesn’t take long before keigo’s cumming deep inside you without warning, something that has your eyes flying open. 

     “k–keigo–! y– you just— you..!” the words aren’t there as panic begins to settle in. something you had both agreed on before you started fucking was that even if you did it raw, he had to pull out—kids were a big no for the both of you.

     but here was your boyfriend, fucking you throughout his orgasm and working his way up to a second as he looks down at you with a gaze so intense, you feel small beneath him. 

     tugging at his wings again, you cry out his name as he fucks his cum into you, just for him to ignore your pathetic mewls and pleas.

     “k– kei—!”

     “gonna knock y’up so good—g’nna— fuck— g’nna make you a mommy—”

     your face flushes deeply at his words—is this what had gotten into him? the urge to breed you? knock you up?

     “f–fuck!” you pull at his wings, rolling your hips upwards as best you can as he desperately ruts into you. this triggers keigo’s second orgasm, his pelvis pressing flush against yours as he cums hard. 

     “nngh—! hnnmg—fuck,” keigo moans as his hips still while he spills another load deep within you. “shit— y’feel so fuckin’ good, baby—” 

     this continues for what seems like ever, but in reality is maybe fifteen minutes of your boyfriend fucking into you until he physically can’t cum anymore, until tears are running down his cheeks from how overstimulated he is, and he’s collapsing on top of you with a tired sigh.

     “k–keigo— we— we can’t—” can’t what? “‘m gonna get pregnant— y’gotta let me get up,” you try to say, shoving at his chest; but it was no use, he was dead weight. 

     “good,” he says breathlessly, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

     “n–no! not good! i— we’re only dating! what would the media think if they found out the number two pro hero went and knocked his girlfriend up?!” your concern is genuine, but also stems from selfish reasons. you’re sure the reporters would hound you the moment they caught a whiff of something fishy, and—

     “then marry me.” his words are so serious sounding that they immediately break you out of your own mind and your eyes go wide with shock and awe. had he seriously just. proposed?! while still being balls deep in you!? 

     “huh!?” you sound just as caught off guard as you look, and keigo cranes his neck up to look at you, expression the most serious you’d ever seen it. …okay, so he obviously wasn’t joking around, but, but–!

     “you heard me. …i’d been meaning to get you a ring for a little while now, but couldn’t find one i thought you might like, so…..” his cheeks are flushed and face sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead as he gazes at you so tenderly, your heart can’t help but feel full.

     “i— keigo, i…” he waits patiently as you fumble with your words. “yes,” finally falls from your lips, a grin tugging at the corners of them.

      unable to say anything else, you cup his cheeks with both hands and press kisses all over his handsome face before you slot your lips over his and lean in slowly, almost teasingly.

     keigo, ever impatient, leans in to close the gap, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head as his hips twitch and he pushes further into you, causing the disgusting amount of cum stuffed in your cunt to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock, and drip down to your puckered asshole. after that, it doesn’t take much longer for keigo to fuck you both to sleep.

     and that’s how you found yourself in the exact same position one year later, having put your first child to bed no less than an hour ago, with your now husband pinning you to your shared mattress, talking about how he wants a second kid—how beautiful you looked pregnant the first time, and how he’d love to see you like that again. so, he makes it happen. and then one more time after that.

return to KINKTOBER | PRO HERO M.LIST

[luniusarahant]

Behavioral Issues

G!P Winter x F! Reader

Content Warning: Porn without plot (not much anyway), tummy bulge, degradation, nonconsensual sex, implied blackmailing, and unprotected sex.

Request: No, written because I have free will.

Author’s Note: This is my first fiction, please support me kindly! Oh, and also I got very embarrassed halfway through reading it. So it is only half proofread.

Your shoulder blades tense as you crash into the lockers, the metal cool against your skin as she grips onto you. “Do you know how much time that project took me,” Minjeong glares at you as she speaks, her eyes squinting through her black framed glasses.

You cringe at the feeling of her clammy hands against your own skin. “Who the hell are you talking to.. freak.. you should watch yourself,” you give her a quick scowl.

“I’m talking to you. How many years of torment have I endured because of you?” She adjusts the rim of her glasses while giving you a lookover. “The only reason you have any power over me is due to your popularity.”

“Due to my popularity? Have you ever once stopped and thought about how much of a geek you are? You should know your place you perv,” you give her a slight push on the chest, but she barely budges as she puffs her chest out in defense.

“What the fuck? Move..” you give her another shove only to be met with a fierce backhand on the cheek. “So cocky, but I’ve always wanted to hit you like that,” Minjeong snarls at you, her eyes laced with more than a hint of resentment.

“Y-You are so dead.. when I tell-” she scoffs, a cocky smirk written all over her lips. “What? Will you tell your boyfriend? So pathetic.. never being able to handle your own issues,” she plants a hand near your head, the locker door rattling as she does so.

Your heart drops as she leans in, her face so close to yours that you can smell her cologne. “You’ll have to pay me back now. All because of you. Because of you my project is ruined and I’m going to fail finals this week.”

Before you can respond she gives a tug at your skirt, the seams parting with a loud rip. Your hands instantly shoot down to cover yourself, your underwear now visible. “Why so shy now? You’re known as the campus whore. You should be conditioned to this.”

“Minjeong stop! Don’t touch me! I’ll tell everyone what you’re doing!” You squirm every time her fingers touch at you.

“You already tell everyone how much of a perverted loser I am. Might as well live up to those standards,” she coos into your ear, her tongue licking a stripe up your neck. “Mm.. I can finally have my turn with you.”

“Stop.. please stop. Leave me alone,” you whine into her shoulder as she tugs at your clothing. With each layer stripped of your body you become meeker and quieter. But that only stirs Minjeong up even more. The thought of you in a vulnerable state makes her hard as a rock.

In one swift motion she unbuttons her jeans, her zipper practically breaking as she reaches for her cock. Large is an understatement. Her dick is not only lengthy, but girthy as well. No hair in sight and one prominent vein near the left side. Her balls are full too. Heavy. Hung.

“Minjeong.. I’m sorry,” you sputter out in fear as she positions you below her until your face is parallel with her cock. With one hand she smacks it on your face, her sticky precum smearing on your cheek in one fast swipe.

“Give me a good polish and I might keep quiet about this whole situation,” she gives your cheek another quick slap before pressing her pink tip against your lips. You can taste the saltiness of her precum as she works her way into your mouth.

Each inch shoved down your throat causes you to gag in response, your saliva coating her cock as she uses you like a fleshlight. “That shut you up quick, didn’t it? You gonna drain my balls princess?”

You put both of your hands against her thighs in protest to absolutely no avail. She grabs two handfuls of your hair and jerks your mouth further onto her cock, a few loud groans eliciting from her. “Who’s a good cocksleeve? You gonna take this load like a good slut?”

You gag once again, your eyes red and puffy with tears and your throat sore from her rough throatfucking. Even as you cry she only continues to degrade you more as she throws her leg over your shoulder, a guttural moan emitting from her as her cock twitches in your warm mouth.

Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Three strong shots of semen spurt from her cock and hit the back of your throat. You can feel and taste her seed as it drips slowly down your throat. Minjeong pulls out, a satisfied smile on her face as she stares down at you. “Why are you even in college? The best profession you’d ever get is as a cum dump.”

You swallow hard, your pride destroyed as she pulls you up, her cock still twitching with excitement from her previous orgasm. “Minjeong please.. I won’t do it again,” you weep into her chest as she lifts you, your legs wrapping around her waist.

She just clicks her tongue at you, a hint of disapproval in her voice as she taunts you. “You’re only sorry once there’s consequences.” She pulls at your underwear until a loud rip reverberates throughout the locker room, your panties falling onto the floor.

Before you can speak Minjeong has positioned her tip with your entrance, her cock sliding in with an all too slow rhythm. It makes you cry out in pain as your walls stretch to accommodate her size, each sudden movement making your cunt grip on her shaft.

“J-Jeongie it hurts so bad,” you yelp while scratching at her back as she begins to quicken her pace, her thrusts getting deeper with each passing second. She grunts in response, her balls plapping against your ass as she pounds into you. You can feel your own wetness coating her cock as she bottoms out into you, her balls tightening as you hold her close.

Her legs begin to shake as she carries you over to the rickety (and practically ancient) benches. As she flexes her shoulder blades she drops you down onto the bench, one of her legs propped up to stabilize herself. With both of her hands she grips at your thighs, pressing them into your chest as she forces you into the mating press position. “This suits you,” she smiles down at you, her hair sticking to her face as she manhandles you.

Lowering your gaze from her eyes to your stomach you watch as her bulge moves inside of you, each action causing your body to stir in discomfort. You can feel her tip kissing at your cervix, her moans growing louder as she slams into you. With one final groan Minjeong falls onto you, all of her weight heavy against you as her seed spills out into you.

You whine under her, your eyes rolling back and your breath hitching as she fills your pussy up with warm sticky cum. With the rest of her strength Minjeong pulls out of you, her semen spilling out of you and onto the tiled floor of the locker room. She swallows hard, her gaze still set on you as she backs up. “Smile for me,” Minjeong whispers under her breath before a white flash reflects off of the lockers. “Maybe this’ll teach you to respect me.’’

Before you can react Minjeong has zipped up her jeans and walked out of the locker room, the only evidence of her presence being the lingering scent of her cologne and her thick semen pooling out of you.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - modern!au, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, nonconsensual touching, and stalking. written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

“I’ve been thinking about us, again.”

He was barely trying to whisper, his voice loud enough to earn several pointed looks from the people around you. You’d tried to put yourself at a distance from the rest of the class, to sit in a deserted corner of the near-empty lecture hall, but he wouldn’t have cared if you were in the first row. That was something you’d had to learn quickly about him – Kunikuzushi was shameless at the best of times, actively vitriolic at the worst. Your public humiliation wasn’t just a pleasant side-effect of his company, but an active goal he was striving towards during every minute you spent together.

“You don’t have to look so worried – if I was going to break up with you, you’d know.” You kept your eyes trained on the lecturer, your expression schooled to practiced disinterest, but his voice lulled like you’d broken into tears. You felt him shift that much closer to you – his thigh pressing into yours. “I just don’t think we spend enough time together. I know, I know, we’re both busy, but still. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

You were. Just last week, you’d spent two hours locked in your bedroom closet – lights off and knees pulled into your chest – because Kuni had somehow gotten your address and decided it would be a good use of his time to loiter on your doorstep and refuse to leave until you came out. You planned your day-to-day schedule meticulously to make sure it would never bleed into his, went out of your way not to have to go where you knew he would be, but there was only so much you could do to get away from someone willing to blow off his classes and skip work just to spend the better part of a day sending you candid pictures from one of his countless burner phones. You could only be thankful he was too caught up in his own delusions to ever let his obsession turn violent. Lashing out at you for never acknowledging whatever relationship he thought you were in would be akin to admitting you didn’t have a relationship at all, he would never do that.

He took up your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You tried, weakly, to pull away from him, but he only let out a breathy chuckle, his head soon resting on your shoulder. Compared to how he’d acted when you first met – standoffish, bristly, constantly on the verge of losing his temper – he was practically a touch-starved puppy, happy so long as he could sit in your lap and bask in your attention, positive or negative.

If only you’d ever wanted a pet.

“I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say it.” Another laugh, a playful squeeze to your hand. “I think we should move in together.”

You snapped in his direction, your knees jolting against the bottom of your desk and earning a few pointed glares. After mouthing a sheepish apology, you dug your nails into the back of his hand, keeping your voice as low as possible. “Kuni, I— I don’t think that’s—”

“Don’t think it’s practical?” Predictably, he cut you off. “I knew you’d say that. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be able to find the nerve to leave your apartment.” You felt his smile against the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck as he nuzzled against you. “I’ve already handled it. By the time that moron—“ He rolled his eyes towards your professor. “—shuts up, everything should be taken care of.”

You felt something heavy and sharp drop into the pit of your stomach. “But, you don’t have a key—”

“I made myself a key a couple weeks ago – got tired of waiting for you to offer. I love you, babe, but you’re too timid for your own good.” His grin, pressed the curve of your throat. “You can thank me later on, after I’ve shown you our new place.”

His hand fell to your thigh, just a touch too high not to trigger some buried, primal instinct inside of you. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate – bolting upward and tearing yourself away from him. Your chair scaped against the tile floor, your palms slamming against the desk, and in an instant, every pair of eyes in the lecture hall were on you. The professor scowled in your direction, his ire tangible. “Do you have something to say, (L/n)?”

You opened your mouth, but your mouth was dry, your throat suddenly swollen shut. Your gaze fell back to Kuni – his smile still wide and his eyes still so, so dark.

Wordlessly, you shook your head and collapsed back into your seat. As the lecture picked back up and all concentration was returned to the front of the rom, Kuni latched onto you once again, his hold twice as strong and twice as suffocating as it had been.

It was almost a comfort to know that, this time, there wasn’t anything you could do to get away from him.

[shaisuki]

❝ CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU. ❞

⚚ FEATURING. YANDERE! MANAGER! ALEXIS NESS

CONTENT WARNINGS. idol! reader + panty sniffing + masturbation (m!) + implied murder + voyeurism + nonconsensual recording + deranged ness + dubious consent + nicknames (muse, princess) + forced affection + threats + coercion + virgin reader + guilt tripping + oral (f! receiving + kidnapping + noncon.

NOTES. requested by @hillaryary

I was very happy to find your profile and stories :D your story is very good and I really like it!! I have to go to tumblr and re-read your stories every day :DD and can you write a yandere alexis ness x chubby reader, where the reader is a music idol and Ness is her manager?

SYNOPSIS. the industry's cold for someone like you, thanks for the entertainment gods you're blessed with your sweet manager, alexis ness or is he?

you are too good to be true.

the neon lights blending with his own magenta eyes following your plush body dancing to the rhythm of the song you recently released. although he can't hear the cheers of the people singing along to your music. he's deeply focused following your every movement. his ears straining the unwanted voices in the background. separating your voice to the crowd and alexis could forever watch and listen to you sing and dance.

if you would just let him take you away from this. you would only exist for him and you won't have to go far to impress these good for nothing who wants you. a product they can buy and throw away.

ness handled numerous artists and he's quite proud to say they were flourishing because of him and it would have continued if it wasn't for their greed. the fame inflating their egos that it bursted until they were no more than nothing but trash. you were humble despite the rapid fame you've gained since starting and ness is captivated by you. how you carried yourself and faced the challenges as an idol.

it's quite difficult since you started. of course, the audience wasn't really into the idea of someone of your stature. round and stout unlike the usual petite idols with the hourglass figures. the fans wanted the thin with the soft features but never the fat that it comes with it and you're nothing like that at all. proving your worth until you get that breakthrough that sealed your deal as the popular rising star in the industry. handled by the finest manager named alexis ness.

alexis is the sweetest and kindest of all the managers (only to you). never did he criticize for your body that was the main concerns of the producers and other concerns that relates to your stardom. he tended all of your needs and made sure you were properly taken care of. alexis just loves you.

and he's the worst. always daydreams about you and think how you've fallen for him. thinking you were just too shy about admitting it and ness likes the thought of it. he likes you too. no. scratch that, he loves you. thinking that your words of praise are your declaration of love for him and how those touches are you seducing him. to fall on his knees and begs for your love which he didn't need to be told twice. he's a delusional lovesick boy. nothing can stop him. not even the forbidden relationships between managers and their talents. alexis would defy it all for the name of his love to you.

the song ended with the cheers coming from the crowd. chanting your name and you ended the concert with thanks and the words of appreciation for supporting you. you're radiant as the sun under the spotlight. waving your hands to the crowd who wants you. threatening to destroy that clean image of yours and ness wouldn't allow such filth to happen to you.

he put a genuine smile while you put your microphone away. his smile was different from the others he shows. this one is only for you.

“alexis.” the call of his name instantly made his heart skip a beat. his lively eyes getting brighter. perking up more than the usual and made his dick hard. his hands itching to get a feel from your soft skin. “it was a another successful concert, thanks to you.” you approached him. grabbing his hand to clasp with yours and ness thinks he could explode in the moment but he kept his composure. after all, he's your manager. your hands is so soft and it perfectly fits in his.

“it is nothing. it is you should take the credit. keep up the good work, sweetheart.” patting your cheek and removing your earpiece. “shall i take you home?” his sight briefly looking at your back where the crowd is still chanting your name in a thunderous manner. you nodded. you were beyond tired and needed a much deserved rest.

after changing out of your outfit, ness escorted you out where his car awaits for you two. of course ness needs to be discreet considering how every corners of the place, a photographer or a simple bystander stands. wanting to get a photograph of you and spread it like a wildfire in the interest. a scandal would erupt if you both where alone and in his car but ness is known as the manager who kept things professional and strictly business as things were. they can't use it against him nor to you as a new headline of fucking tabloid. it's only him and his talent. a good manager who takes good care of his star.

when you got home, you sighed in relief. you needed a bath after that concert and you need to prepare for the next upcoming days for press conferences, meet and greets and guesting for tv shows. no words are said as you instantly hopped in the shower. leaving your manager alone in his own devices in your apartment. it was fine though. you trusted alexis since you started in the entertainment industry and he was nothing but kind to you or is he?

when he hears the water run in the shower. ness knows exactly what he had to do. he follows you in your bathroom. the silhouette of your plush figure lays in front of him and ness was tempted to join you. lick the water running down to your soft body while your fingers comb through his hair. kiss him passionately. tell him how much you love him and he almost did it but for now he's going to relieve himself with your panties. digging it through under your clothes in the hamper and jackpot! he found it.

your cute, frilly panties. you always it wore it when doing public events. your lucky panties, he presumes. it's damp and ness almost salivates at the scent. sniffing the undergarment and fishing his hardened cock in his pants.

ness trembles. the excitement of being caught while sniffing your panties. he think he could cum in the spot but he tortures himself not to cum immediately. his eyes fixated in the shower door. he can see you rubbing your body in an almost sensual manner. his grip on his cock tightens. moving it back and forth. thrusting it in his fist. rubbing it continuously and the moment you turned off the shower, he cums in his fist. the sensation of cumming sending tingles down to his spine. sparks after sparks of endorphins being released in his brain and ness cleans himself before walking away from your bathroom. your panties in his pocket and ness pretends to be resting in your couch.

fresh out of the shower, you told ness that you would be turning for the night and he just gives you a smile. he will leave after you fall asleep making sure his sweet, pretty princess would be safe.

he waited for a good hour. not minding the night being this late. he slowly tiptoes in your bedroom and ness slowly sinks to the soft mattress of your bed. placing your plushies besides you. ones that was given by your fans and that big plum colored teddy bear that is displayed at the foot of your bed. it's round, black eyes is planted with camera that he crafted to keep track of you and you look really adorable even when you sleep. ness can't even think for a memory that you look absolutely a mess. you were really pretty in his eyes. your face devoid of any make-up and he can see the natural state of your face and ness could just worship you if you'll allow him and even if you don't.

you really trust him. you don't even suspect him of doing the nastiest thing he can do. he would kill for you. done it many times so he could protect you.

love me! his thought scream at him. he slowly crawls to you. lurching forward like a predator stalking his prey. his body caging your own. you don't even shift in your sleep. you're gullible. your own manager is above you. watching you through in his eyes filled with adoration with a lovesick face.

love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!

the only words running in his mind while he buries his face in the crook of your neck. let your warmth seeps and touch his very soul while his clothed cock is pressed to your creamy thighs. he moans a little when his cock brushed against your crotch. the thin barrier of your thin pajama bottoms is nothing. he hopes you'll wake up. he hopes you don't.

would you scream? push him away? or pull him closer to you. let his hands wander throughout the expanse of your body while you grind to him. show him that pretty pussy of yours dripping. telling him how much you wanted him inside of you and ness groans.

he should stop before you can find out what your manager had been doing to you. he removes himself from you. “sweet dreams, princess.” he mutters. running his fingers to the roundness of your cheek and kissing your forehead before reluctantly saying goodbye to you. he leaves your apartment silently. making sure it was locked and his phone syncs with the camera he hid in your teddy bear. he looks back one last time before he goes home.

make up? check. your earpiece working? check. do you look cute in this outfit? check. you did a little twirl in your dressing room. posing and practicing the hundred of facial expressions you memorized for this concert of yours. you were ready.

a knock interrupted your little train of thoughts and it revealed your cute manager ness with his ever so cute smile and those kind eyes of his.

“you ready for you big day, my muse?” he asks, checking up on his favorite idol. the cutest of them all. he was rewarded by your beaming smile. you were literally bouncing. after all. this had been set for months and your manager decided that it was time for your grand performance in of the biggest stadiums in the country. ness, a magician manager like him had worked to pull the strings to get his muse, her grandest spotlight.

as much as you deserved it, such acts must be rewarded, right? nothing comes free at all and ness always wanted you. it wouldn't be so bad if he would ask for it. he did everything just to make you shine even as far eliminating threats who wants to strip you out of your fame. those ugly bastards who wants your body for a sliver of connections they had. you're lucky to be in the industry considering you were too big to be an idol they say but ness was having none of it. it's your talent that got you here and him. he was made for your talent and you were made for him.

“thank you, alexis. i really am. without you i would be still in competitions with the others.” you thanked him tearfully. he can see you were sincere at your actions and that made ness heart skip beats before thumping in full force that it's enough for him to be sent into a heart attack but it's far from it. his cute, darling idol. he thought. his eyes raking the sight of your body from head to toe. your so delicious curves and soft features in front of him are made to be touched.

“ah, my darling muse.” ness approaches you. holding your shoulders. as much physical contact between managers and their talents are prohibited, ness was an exception. he never gave you any reason to be wary of and only acted like a friend would do. “don't get teary at me. it's your big day. we wouldn't want your beautiful face to be in a mess, right?” he coos at you affectionately. catching a teardrop in your lash line before it drops in your round cheek.

he's so close to you. your adorable face in front of him and he can smell the scent you naturally emits and he's about to burst. purple eyes looking at your own (e/c) eyes and he's about to be trapped. your lips tremble at the slightest of emotion and he's tempted to kiss you.

his sight going back and forth to your eyes and to your lips. his hold on you tightens and slowly, maybe it was the tension and how badly he wants you, he'd done it.

he presses his lips to yours and ness always wanted it and it's happening now. it's soft and gentle like a first kiss. it was your first kiss and he stole it. ness knows it was your first. he runs down a whole background check on you if he was to be your manager and it was just cherry on top that you were untouched and pure for him. ness had done everything at his power to keep you that way. it was for his own gain to have you.

there was no reaction when he kisses you. it must be shocking. your own manager kissing you out of the blue. it was the least you expected. he was just a manager to you.

you were still processing about it. no doubt and when ness broke the kiss. you were stunned. looking at him wide eyes and he took it as another opportunity to kiss you again. how long he waited for this. your soft lips against his. your soft skin under his fingertips. he let out a low moan. relishing in the sensation of your body pressed against him.

“alexis...” you softly mutter his name under your breath. he was biting your lower lip when you pull away from him and stares at you. pupils blown with lust and cheeks red. he looks like a lovesick school boy. “what?” he doesn't let you go in his grasp. you shake your head. “it's wrong.” he knows it. it's wrong to have a physical relationship nor a romantic relationship to your idol but managers had done it for a long time. it's a reward for their hard work and ness was hurt from how your face contorts into one of disappointment. your once adoring face that was directed to him is now replaced with anxiousness. looking at him in disbelief and is that the look of betrayal?

“it's not wrong when it's only the two of us. don't you love me?” ness voice trembles and it was similar to grade schooler that was being reprimanded of a deed they can't control. you don't know how to make the words you needed to say. you do love alexis. he's the one who helped you build this fame and even it was his job as your manager, you owe all of this to him. despite all of that, you can't risk a scandal between you two. one rumor and it could destroy all the hard work. you simply can't everything on the line.

“i do love you, alexis....” ness perks up from what you've said. you hesitated to utter the next words “you're my manager. my confidant in everything. the person that i trust in this industry but i can't return your feelings. i'm sorry.” your excitement dying down from the revelation of his feelings to you. better let that out than to let his feelings spiral out of control but you were wrong it only fuels his desire to want you more.

clasping his hands and ness thinks he could cry. it was a rejection but he just couldn't accept it. you love him. you've said it but why? were you afraid of crossing a line? idols like you aren't allowed to date but it's fine if it's with him. a secret until you retire and you can love him in the light as in the dark. he couldn't take this rejection. he needed to convince you that it was fine. no one will know.

“we can keep it a secret. just you and me. no one will find out about it. managers had dated their idols without knowing. we can be like that!” ness frantically explains to you.

“for them! alexis, you and i is not the same. i love you but not in a romantic way. platonically, yes. you're the only person i trust here, alexis.” you reason out to him, half-explaining, half-raising your voice at him. trying to reach out. change his mind that you can't love him the way he loves you.

your manager wasn't quick to give up though.

“no! you love me. you're afraid! i swear i'll be good. i'll work harder!” beginning to lose his sense of respect to himself and to you. he's beginning to spout nonsense and you shush him before he breaks down in front of you.

“alexis! stop! stop! you don't need to do anything, okay?” you hold him down by his shoulders. cupping his cheeks and meet his eyes that is already brimming with tears. “you don't need to do anything of that. we can still be... — friends. nothing will change after this. just please, promise me you won't do anything drastic.” you almost practically beg at him and hope he will take this seriously.

“i'll do it but only if you will let me do this.” you weren't able to compose reply before his lips is into yours again. “alexis!” you pushed him but he's back in to you again. “just this once and it will be done.”

you searched if it was real in his eyes and you found no malice in those eyes of purple. still like a gem in the ground and there's a little bit of sparkle in them.

it's only a kiss he asked for but could you trust him? what if someone found out or a hidden camera is recording this whole ordeal. you shake the dark array of thoughts lining in your brain. reaching to a conclusion that you won't regret this.

“you promise?” you asked, a little wary about it.

“i promise.” he smiles and he was about to do the thing you're about to regret. too gullible that he would be satisfied with kissing you.

then the kiss came. lips pressed against yours. gentle it was like him and when you think it was done. you were proven wrong when his hold on you started to get tight. holding the back of your head to further deepen the kiss. swiping your bottom lip with his tongue. you gasped at the sensation. forcing you to open your mouth and ness took the opportunity to shove his tongue to yours.

it was brutal and the sudden intrusion of his tongue in your mouth felt weird. is this what being kissed feels like? you try not to focus but judging from ness, he was adamant of kissing you like this.

the fluttering heat of the sensation of kissing you begins to settle in the pit of his stomach. oblivious to the pain he was beginning to inflict in your skin. all he can focus is the taste of your mouth in his. the strawberry flavored scented lip gloss in your lips coating his taste buds and the softness of body engulfs him. wrapped in the heavenly sensation of being this close to you. ness didn't want this to end.

you body starts to cave in with his ministrations and ness carefully assists you to place your body in your vanity table. your back pressed in the mirror. he breaks the kiss. letting you to catch your breath before he's in yours again. a couple of kisses he left in your lips and then to your cheek and jaw until he's nuzzling in your neck. sucking marks until a hickey blooms from it.

“alexis. you promise it will be done and the concert's starting.” reminding him of his promise. ness who's already hooked to you kept kissing your exposed skin. “there's still thirty minutes left until showtime and you're a little tense.” ness ignores the earlier ordeal. too bad. he won't be satisfied with only a kiss. he needed to taste you. “you won't mind if i help you loosen up a bit. won't you?” alexis suggested. he didn't leave a room for you to respond. standing in front of you. resting his forehead against yours. patting your cheek gently.

“you're particularly tense in this spot, princess.” alexis mused followed by a gasp coming from you when he rubs his finger to your slit. “alexis! no—....” he interrupted you with a kiss. your legs jerking in response along with your upper half. coiling away from him as you move backwards. hitting the mirror and knocking a vase.

his finger repeatedly going back and forth. grazing the surface of your panties until he can feel the dampness of it. “you're still tense.” he murmurs. going back again to kiss you and slotting himself between your legs. his hands creeping up and sliding it under your ass. holding it firmly before grinding his bulge to yours. “ahh~” alexis moans. feeling the warmth of your pussy and the contact of his bulge to yours sending tingles in his spine.

you were helpless against him. you think your body is made of jelly from how his touch leave you to be this weak. “alexis!” you cry out to him. a call for him to stop but your manager didn't take it seriously.

“i told you, princess. i'm helping you to relax. it's a big day for both of us. don't worry it will only take a minute.” what a liar. this is not a way for you to decompress. not with such stakes are in the line.

you think that this industry would be a godsend to you since you're under the care of alexis ness but it's a nightmare. you think of all the idols that had to endure this.

you're wrong. alexis had never touched nor took advantage of the previous idols who was under him. you're lucky. you took his breathe away and was always good for him. it's only the way he can show how much he adores you.

“alexis....” you don't understand why you were suddenly experiencing the feeling of being helpless under him. how his touch disarms you that you're letting him do this. were you truly this dependent to him? you feel him under you. pushing back the tulle of your skirt until it bunches in your waist. still careful not to crinkle the fabric.

his smooth hands glides through the expanse of your thighs. massaging the doughy flesh and letting his fingers sink over the softness of it. “relax for me, princess.” alexis assures you. a brief peck of his lips to yours. not breaking eye contact with you until he started to kneel. leveling with your crotch and he leans in closer.

“princess.” he calls you. peppering the insides of your thighs with kisses. he takes a deep breath. his nose pressed in your slit. inhaling the scent of your cunt he'd been dreaming to get a taste of it. wished he could stay in this forever before he smothered his face in your cunt. “a-alexis!” you inhale sharply at the sudden contact of his tongue to your aching cunt.

your back arches at the sensation of his tongue constantly flicking against the smooth surface of your pussy lips. your fingers finding his hair. unconsciously tugging his hair while your hips grinds in rhythm with his tongue.

“a-ahh...” alexis hears you moan and he couldn't explain the happiness that is bursting inside of him plus the throbbing of his hardened cock. he must contain himself. he thought. it could wait. for now, he must remember the taste of you. he's the reason you're feeling this good and this send alexis to eat you out to his heart's desire.

he greedily laps at your cunt. letting out a noise of contentment while he eagerly catches the slick that your sweet cunt is releasing. he doesn't mind when you're pulling his hair a little roughly. he's glad that you're enjoying this as much as he is. he hears you breath. moan at every move of his tongue. rolling your hips against his face. his fingers digging at your thighs. his idol. his muse. trembling at his very touch.

he knows you're close. from the way you're suppressing the sound of your sinful moans and your thick thighs closing around his head. he needs more. he needs to taste you more. his lips wraps around your clit and that sends a violent jerk of your hips upwards and more slick to drip out of you. ness abandoned your clit. his tongue wiggling inside your dripping hole and sucking the thin, clear liquid out of your cunt. he just can't get enough of this. small vibrations coming from his mouth showing how much he loves the taste of you.

“a-alexis, i—'m close...” you mewl. the tight and the tingly feeling inside you growing and it won't be long before you reach your peak. the man below you hums. worsening the situation you're in. he happily laps your heat.

you taste so divine and he's about to bestow you the most mind-numbing orgasm and so he pours all his experience in your cunt. adding his touch while he rubs soft circles in your thighs and alexis moans when your thighs presses together. encasing his head. he hears you chanting his name like a prayer. asking to let you cum and it's a privilege to make his idol cum.

you close your eyes. the sensation of his tongue flicking and gliding to your folds is too much. you don't know if you'll last this long. this is what it feels to be taken care of. physically. it felt so good. you want more. forgetting that this is taboo between you and ness but...

it was set aside when you tumbled over the edge. the tight, hot coil snapping inside you and your toes curling. body taut until you were boneless against the mirror. sliding in a slow motion. ness laps up the remnants of your post bliss. mouth drenched in your sweet essence that will linger in him for the next days and when you relaxed.

“i think you're ready now.” he innocently smiled to you. helping you fix your dress for today's performance and gently dabbing your face with a tissue to clear the smudges in your make up. “alexis. i hope you'll keep your promise.” you say to him. hearing the crowd in your dressing room and alexis nods. satisfied for now. “as you wish, princess.” then a knock was heard. the stage manager telling you that it's almost time and you were escorted in the back stage. your manager trailing behind you.

what happened between you two is something you regret and not proud of.

alexis was concerned how you were frowning the whole time. his eyes fixated to you and only you. the stage manager begins to count the numbers until it was showtime. your face beaming up in a rapid manner. gripping the microphone before taking a deep breath and it was showtime.

he watched you dance and sing. interact with the fans and blowing them kisses and ness was jealous of it. he knows it's only a ploy to make your fans love you but he wishes it was directed to him. he's a manager. he encouraged you to do it in the first place on how to make your supporters love you and expand your fanbase. the apple of their eye and to him. his darling muse.

dark, muddied thoughts begins to stain his already messed up brain. if only you would look at him the same and thus, he got fed up with this life. hiding and trying to make his creations be pleasing to everyone's eye. if you're going to end up like them, he better cut your wings off.

and that's what he did.

“my muse.” he said with a soft smile. his voice filled with adoration. the nickname stuck to you. always had been. you were his masterpiece. “i never thought i would be this addicted to you.” pale purple eyes staring right at you. never breaking eye contact just to prove his devotion to you. “let me have the pleasure of being your first.” he means it. pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

your mind is alive but your body couldn't move. it was like it was made of of lead. you feel him everywhere. you didn't know you would be in this situation. is this still your sweet manager alexis who can fought tooth and nail just to defend you? who nurtured you and encourages to be yourself despite the rough upbringing of the entertainment industry. did he that all and only he would take that all away from you for him to do worst. the answer was clear to you.

a tear slip out from your eye. you feel your innocence and purity along with your dignity slowly fades when his cock strips you out of it. his breath in your face. his lips singing of praises. his muse. he chants it repeatedly while he moves. his eyes on you all the time. watching the change on your face. you should have run when alexis first showed you kindness and now it's too late. he keeps you in this place where you are only for his eyes to see.

[copperbadge]

how do you/have you handled Fandom Micro-Fame re: dating, especially people you meet through apps? I dither enough about whether/when to even mention fandom to new non-fannish people! and I'd imagine that letting new people know you've written some very popular fics & having thousands of tumblr followers would look different than casually mentioning your audience to your therapist, for example :P (this is purely curiosity about your position if you're open to talking about it, btw - not looking for advice!)

In all honesty, until last year no attempt I made at online dating ever got that far. I rarely got a swipe on the apps, and usually when I did it was either someone cheating on their partner or, memorably, someone wanting to play out their fetish fantasy nonconsensually (this happened at least twice that I recall). It never got to the point where you'd talk about that kind of thing. In the rare cases I met someone in brickspace and dated, which last happened in grad school, I didn't talk about it -- but partly that's because at that time I had three thousand readers, not thirty thousand.

Lucky in fanfic, unlucky in love :)

The person I'm currently seeing most often knows that I have a blog with a large readership but hasn't asked any further; I only mentioned it to them because I felt comfortable giving further details if they did ask. This is very much a friends with benefits type of situation (by mutual agreement) so I assume it's something we either won't discuss or something that will arise organically. In a way it's fortunate that they're also dealing with a certain level of micro-fame as someone who is prominent in their professional field, so they're not particularly weirded out by my situation just as I'm not weirded out by theirs; they're also familiar enough with fandom not to find it an alien landscape.

Generally speaking I keep fandom and brickspace somewhat separate, though that line has blurred more in the last five years or so. I don't really bring up fandom to family or non-fannish friends, and the friends I made beginning in fandom I now have strong connections to outside of fandom, so they're not Fandom Friends, they're friends I just met online. While fandom is obviously important to me, it's not something I really feel I need to tell people about unless I get an inkling they'd actually be interested.

It's just kind of a non-issue for me, which probably isn't very satisfying as an answer. I talk about fandom with fannish folk, and I talk about other stuff with non-fannish folk. If I feel like someone would understand the crossover I let it happen organically, but especially in dating I just haven't dated enough to develop any kind of policy about it.

[dilfartist]

Missed - short (pt.2)

Pairing; Yandere Las Plagas Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; it’s the week after Leon’s attack and the scientists examining and aiding Leon, need your assistance.

Reader description; Female/GN

Word count; 1k

TW; Dead dove do not eat, non-con, there isn’t really a smut scene, depends on how you interpret it, nonconsensual touching, messed up shit, ooc Leon. NSFW. Also tagged everyone who wanted to be tagged but its acting weird so few may not be notified.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Nothing seems real to you anymore.

Your boyfriend working for the government was more than enough news to handle, but Leon obtaining some parasite, becoming one himself understandably tended to hurt your head.

After last week's events, you come by daily. While they did request this of you, you would have done it anyways.

Every day you wake then drive straight to the facility holding him; never missing a day. And with each passing day, he grows worse. His body changed, sprouting more veins than the last time you saw him. He looks lifeless. His baby blue eyes are now a piercing ruby color, that stare into your soul.

Leon as a person has altered. He’s more touchy, touching you anytime he can. Leon doesn’t care for your opinion, or consent on the matter. Not anymore. Aggression is a main part of his personality now. While Leon was rarely aggressive with you, it still terrified you to see him throw a tantrum and nearly rip out a security guard’s throat because you wanted to leave early.

His presence alone has grown suffocating. And You’re starting to get uncomfortable just being around him.

And the experimenters monitoring Leon aren't helping. They only ever approve of you around to gather intel. Sometimes they’ll guilt you into staying in his enclosure, observing his actions on the other side of a double mirror. Other times they’d full-on pay you to spend five or more hours with Leon. Of course, you’d have no issues if Leon acted like his old self. But that was the issue. He wasn't himself anymore.

It’s currently two o’clock and you’re attending Leon’s daily visits.

“We have one more experiment we’d like to run on Leon, but we need your help to explore what we’d like to explore.”

You nod, observing Leon from the other side of the double mirror. Leon sits crisscrossed next to a large television watching MTV mindlessly, gnawing on a slice of pizza. Leon sports grey sweatpants and a slight sauce messy white tee.

You turn your head finally providing your attention to the scientist beside you, “What is it?” you questioned.

She fixed her glasses to look down at her clipboard, “Well, Leon has been very emotional lately. We’d appreciate it if you’d go inside and just talk with him.”

You lift an eyebrow looking at her septically, “Is that all?”

She nods. “Yes, that is all. You know he only communicates with you.”

“Alright then.”

You enter Leon’s isolation when the door slides open. Leon’s room contained paper-white walls, an extensive mirror, both a couch and bed on opposite sides of each other, a television, and a bathroom area. It felt like a zoo enclosure.

Leon took a minute to glance your way. He was too captivated by the flashing images on the television. Wanting to get the interaction over with, you called out for him. “Leon.”

Leon’s eyes darted in your direction. “(Name)!” he jumped up, jogging over to you. He hugged you tightly, running kisses up and down your neck. You're frozen in an awkward position, “Hey, missed you too, Lee.”

Leon ceases his kissing, pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “Been wondering when’s the next time you’d visit.”

You chuckle, “I visit every day, Leon.”

“It feels like an eternity when you're not around.”

Leon and you lay on the couch, Leon resting his head on top of your chest. You held him close, staring at the ceiling. For abeat there was a pregnant silence, the both of you focusing on each other’s company. Then Leon spoke. Leon asked about your life: how was work? Was anything new happing? Any recent drama. He yearned for a bit of normalcy. Wanted to forget about Spain. Just wanted his main reflections on you.

Since Leon’s trip nothing was the same, not for him. Not for you. While, yes, his normal life ended after the raccoon city incident, he managed to somehow have a- what would you call it? Semi-normal life. Living with you at least.

But now it was gone. The las plazas had terminated any chance of normality for Leon. And if by chance the government’s scientists somehow cured Leon of his parasite, he’d still be left with the side effects of retaining the Las plagas for as long as he did.

Leon’s body had changed in such drastic ways. And his main concern was the upsurge in his libido.

Hours and hours he’d fist his cock, mulling on the times you’ve sucked his cock. No matter how hard, how fast, or even the time spent he couldn't stop. It hurt too much if he did. The other day the pain didn't go away until he fainted from exhaustion. He needed you. He needed to stuff you so bad it physically pained him.

His mind was barraged with thoughts of breeding your sweet pussy. Leon wasn’t the idea of having kids with you, honestly, it thought about a lot. However, this was different. It was an obsession now. Thoughts on breeding you made him cum so quickly, it became his number one fantasy.

Laying here listening to your rambling on the next-door neighbor's fight last night, his nose picks up an ambrosial smell originating from you. You smell sweet. Oh so, so, so sweet.

Leon’s ears ring, deafening him. His eyes focus on your clothed thighs. How he missed the plush skin he used to lay on after a hard week of work. More than that, he missed planting kisses on them; earing drawled out moans of his name.

Almost like an instinct, Leon’s rough, calloused, hands griped your hips. You halt and looked down at him with curiousness. Uncertain of his next actions, you press your hands against him. Worriedly you utter his name, “Leon?”

Leon refuses to acknowledge the call of his name. His main priority being his cock beginning to stiffen in his sweats.

You swallow nervously, endeavoring to pry his hands off. “Leon, please take your hands off me.” you plead in a stern manner, to come off more as a command.

Leon shakes his head. “No,” he responded, voice trembling. “You have no idea how much I need you, (Name). It's torture not having you stroke me.” he nearly moans at the last part. He climbs up the couch to be face to face.

Leon’s eyes held an immense dose of desire as he looks at you through his eyelashes. “Please touch me, baby,” he whines. “Want ‘ya so bad!” he grips your hand, placing it near your mouth to plant a kiss.

You glance at the mirror, silently pleading for assistance. Comprehending Leon’s increase in strength, kicking him off wouldn't be an option since his grip on you tautened. “Leon, stop!”

Quickly you thought of a method of escape. You acted, moving to the side for your body to decline to the ground. Both you and Leon fell to the ground, dragging cushions with you. Immediately you are on your feet, dashing to the door. You slam your fist against the metal, bruising them in the process. You could care less. Your shouting so loud your throat starts to sting. Yet there’s no reply.

You know there are people out there! You saw at least five before entering.

Then a thought comes to mind. Did they plan this?

Leon yanks you out of your shock, slamming his body against yours. Your nose whacks against the metal, prompting a whine of pain. Akin to a vampire, Leon laches on your neck, trailing kisses up and down. He sucks, bites, and drags his tongue over the marks as his hand travels down the slit in your pants.

“Sorry, baby, can’t deny myself any longer!” he apologizes, surprisingly genuinely. You accept your fate, sobbing silently to yourself.

On the opposite side of the mirror, a group of scientists observe the interaction. They all have their clipboards out, noting down every action, movent, and emotion. A Handful of them watches in revulsion while the scene unfolds in front of them. Others treat it as any other experiment, having no sympathy for you. After all, they have no idea if you’re the worst person in existence or not.

There's one thing for certain. They’d be investigating the pregnancy of a human mother and a parasite having father.

Tagged

@fbiopenups , @athanasia-day , @leonskndy , @ineedrealfriends , @destinys-dreamer, @carlosluv3r, @connorsoddsock, @sl33paholics , @explosiongamora , @idiotuvu-blog , @tarcroach, @mikeywaysghost, @jinna-aka-ninja , @lovelysserafim, @jujupia , @lomaeuwu, @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @sammy213ui , @stella-fleurets, @elliellielliesgirl

[addynosketchpad]

nonconsensual handling of another's power

no matter how many times they do it, he'll never get used to the panic of being sent somewhere unfamiliar

[smuttysabina]

Commission: A Touch Forceful

(Girlcock QuarterJade & Leslie x Janet & Valkyrae, 3.5k words) Tags: Commission, WARNING: NONCONSENSUAL SEX, The R-word shows up a lot (twas requested), Big throbbing girlcocks, Hand fetish, Foot fetish, This one is pretty harsh ngl, Creampies, Double penetration, Sloppy seconds, Brutal sex, I cannot say the two girls are having a good time lol, Wow I got paid for this?

"Well this sucks" "I mean, does is it though?" Valkyrae groans and looks over at the friend perched next to her on the bed, as starkly naked as she is, "Yes Janet, because being a free-use slut for several hours sucks!" "I mean, does it though?" Rae's retort is cut off as the bedroom door creaks open and their first and final customers enter the room; Jodi and Leslie, both nude, both with massive penises swaying between their legs. Jodi's cock was slighter shorter than her fellow's, but made up for it by being far girthier, while Leslie's dick was thickly hooded with foreskin. The pair of them give their waiting friends falsely reassuring smiles, they all know how this was going to go down. "Well this is wonderful..." "I mean-" "Would you shut the fuck up, Janet?!"

Rae lets out a pained gasp as Jodi grasps her hair and hauls her off the bed and onto the floor, shoving her head against the side of the mattress. She moans in terror as Jodi rubs her hefty meat against her face, the bitch already panting with desire, more than eager to violate her friend. Rae groans as Jodi finally pushes her bulbous tip against her lips, forcing her jaw uncomfortably wide as her dick slowly fills her mouth until it is hitting the back of her throat. She can hear Janet screaming nearby as Leslie simply shoves her member into Janet's bare asshole, forcing her long meat agonizingly into her friend's guts. Not that Rae had much time to worry about her friend's travails, as Jodi was busy trying to cram her cock down her throat, to little success. Jodi snarls in frustration, "Open your mouth, wider you filthy fucking whore!" She slaps Rae across the face until tears run down her cheeks, blindly humping her face as she tries to force her dick deeper inside of Rae. Growing frustrated, Jodi halts her assault long enough to pull a coughing Rae back up onto the bed, holding her head back over the side of the furniture as she lines up her dripping meat once more. This time Jodi was able to start pushing her meat down her friend's throat, as Rae's legs kick at the air in distress as her airway is blocked off. Now Jodi was able to use Rae's throat like a pussy, and she wastes no time in roughly fucking it is if she were intent on impregnating her stomach. Grunting like a beast in heat, Jodi finally lets out a primal groan, her thick balls smothering Rae's nose as they pulsate, unloading their thick load into the slut. Rae convulses as the cock cream spews down her throat, her face growing purple as she struggles to breath, forced to swallow every last drop of Jodi's cum.

Just as Rae was about to pass out, Jodi relents and unstoppers her friend's throat, her cock now thoroughly coated with spittle, allowing Rae to gasp and gag as she tries to recover from her rough handling. Sneering contemptuously, Jodi slaps Rae a few more times, "See, all you had to do was open up you stupid bitch!" before stalking off to join Leslie, who was still quite busy ravaging Janet's tender asshole. Whose owner had yet to cease screeching in agony as her butt was brutally pounded, clawing at the sheets with her delicate hands as she struggled to escape from her tormentor. Her relief was soon to arrive however, as Leslie pinned the writhing slut for long enough to get a solid rhythm of thrusts that allowed her to finally climax. Janet howls as Leslie's turgid load sloshes into her guts, with Leslie's cock painfully impaling her to the fullest as she shudders atop her. Janet whimpers as Leslie drags her dick out of her abused hole, her asshole bruised and left gaping, the cool air stinging her sensitive flesh.

Jodi gives Leslie's handiwork an approving look, before asking, "Switch?" Leslie grins in reply, "Thanks for stretching out Rae's throat, I've always wanted to face-fuck that whore." Jodi smirks, "The pleasure was mine, and I'm looking forward to fucking your load out of-" The pair are interrupted as Rae starts to noisily puke up the creampie Jodi had so graciously filled her stomach with, reams of semen erupting from her lips as she spasmodically clutches at the sheets. The two make noises of exaggerated disgust at the mess their friend was making, before cheerfully going their separate ways to their new partners. Janet lays moaning upon the scrambled covers, clutching at her abused ass, she whimpers as Jodi joins her on the bed, begging her friend to not use her already injured ass. Jodi merrily agrees, so long as Janet bends over like a good piece of fuck meat and begs for it like a good slut. Janet hurries to comply, hoisting her rear into the air and spreading her cheeks, mewling insincerely for Jodi's cock. Jodi licks her lips as she presses her meaty head against her friend's moist entrance, before pausing, and admiring the ruin Leslie had wrought upon Janet's blown out hole; globular strings of cum still clung to her innards... Jodi sighs, before announcing, "I lied," and sadistically shoving her dick into Janet's wounded ass. Janet shrieks like a banshee as her butt is stretched even wider by Jodi's fat cock, though this time her ass was at least lubricated by Leslie's filthy semen.

The owner of said sloppy seconds was currently trying to get Rae to clean off her cock, but Leslie's habitual unwashed stench had not been improved much by her time in Janet's guts; so Rae was occupied with gagging and hurling the dregs of Jodi's loads. Eventually, Leslie cajoled Rae into licking clean her foul, hooded tip, sobbing as she lapped at the filthy fluids coating Leslie's cock. Meanwhile Jodi is violently plowing Janet as she howls in pain and sobs into the sheets, sadistically fucking Leslie's slimy load out of her. Piqued by her own partner's lack of enthusiasm, Leslie gives up on trying to get Rae to suck her off properly and instead moves on to something more fuckable; namely Rae's feet. Leaving the bitch to gag and spit into the puddle of semenal puke, Leslie hops onto the bed and manhandles her friend's feet until they are pushed together, toes touching as if in prayer. Which Rae is no doubt doing as Leslie squishes her cock into the cavity formed by her feet and starts to vigorously fuck them. The degenerate pants perversely as she humps Rae's extremities, relishing in their soft soles and rough heels until she groaningly spews a stinking load of semen over them; shuddering so much that a decent portion of her seed ends up splattering over Rae's back and butt. Nearby, Jodi has reached her own peak, and is busy refilling Janet's guts with thick reams of jizz, even as her partner screams and begs for mercy.

Leaving her friend to wail into the sheets and clutch at her brutalized anus, Jodi rejoins Leslie as the other girl is hauling Rae's butt into the air, already eager to pleasure her cock once more. Rae groans as she feels Leslie's bulbous tip pressing against her entrance, wincing as Leslie's starts to force herself inside of her pussy. Rae's attention is drawn elsewhere though as Jodi prods her face with her cock, causing Rae to baulk as she notices the bloody cum-filth coating it. Jodi callously slaps her, "Clean it. Clean it off, and perhaps I won't rape your asshole. Well? Begin you slut." Rae whines as she unenthusiastically licks the mess left by Janet's ruined ass off of Jodi's twitching shaft; only hurrying to finish when Jodi smacks her a few more times to encourage her. All the while Rae trembles and shakes as Leslie pokes her guts with her long cock, barely able to take more than half of it as Leslie grows ever more frustrated. Luckily for her though, Jodi has a clever idea of what will satisfy both of them, though probably not Rae. After some wrangling, Leslie lays back, pulling Rae with her so that her entire body weight now presses on her ropey meat, gradually forcing it deeper, but then Jodi kneels in front of Rae's open legs. Some understanding flashes through Rae, and she immediately starts to plead, but Jodi simply smirks, "What? I told you I would spare your asshole, so now I have to use your cunt, it's not my fault Leslie and I have to share your worthless fuck-hole."

Rae blubbers as Jodi slowly attempts to cram her cock into Rae's already full cunt, even as Leslie continues to mindlessly try and stretch Rae's pussy out even more. Rae shrieks in pain, shaking her head in denial as if that would stop Jodi from slowly forcing her thick tip in alongside Leslie's slick shaft. Rae screams as her perineum tears in a sick parody of birth, as Jodi's cock shoves itself into her pussy until it is resting alongside Leslie's. Overcome by shock, Rae passes out, which was likely for the best as Jodi and Leslie proceed to use her cunt like a cheap fleshlight, pumping furiously away at their unconscious friend. Their slimy cocks slide against one another as the fuck Rae, and overcome by lust, their owners' start to sloppily make out as they share their friend. Wet sloshing noises echo around the room as they both start to leak copiously, and Rae's abused cunt drenches them with fluids in an attempt to reduce the damage they are inflicting upon it. After ten minutes of unrelenting sex, Leslie finishes first, baptizing Jodi's dick with turgid semen as she moans shrilly, lost in the sensation of her climax. Jodi follows soon after, grunting like a boar in rut as she fucks Leslie's cock almost as much as Rae's cunt, before finally spewing her own load into Rae until it leaks out and down Leslie's quivering balls. When Jodi pulls out, a slurry of congealed cum slops out afterwards, Rae's slack hole burping obscenely as it tries to close itself. Together, she and Leslie shove Rae on her side, leaving her passed out with her cunt drooling a foul mixture of sexual juices onto the soaked sheets.

The pair by this point were a touch exhausted from their depraved exercise, but their cocks still bulged with obscene excitement; and with Rae now thoroughly used, that just left... Janet whimpers as her friends kneel next to her, their dicks still dripping from their sojourn inside of Rae's wrecked pussy. Janet's bruised asshole is still leaking Jodi's seed, but she has otherwise been left unspoiled, until now at least. But after the heady pleasure of breaking Rae, the two would prefer something a little less stimulating; this time. "Stroke it," Jodi demands, thrusting her cock emphatically, "stroke us off or we'll break your cunt like we did with Rae." Moaning in horror, Janet hurries to comply, and soon the other two girls were moaning as well, though this time with pleasure. Janet's pretty hands slide up and down their cocks with an enthusiasm born of desperation, her dainty fingers curling seductively around their slippery meat. Her perfect digits squeeze and massage their womanhoods, until Leslie's cock is slobbering precum, and even Jodi is groaning and humping the air. To everyone's surprise, it is Jodi who finishes first, gasping erratically, she curls forward as her diminished load spurts all over Janet's face; who closes her eyes and grimaces as she is painted with watery semen. Aroused by the sight of Janet receiving a facial, it is not long before Leslie's seed leaks out all over Janet's clenched fingers; now that Jodi was finished, Janet could jerk Leslie off with both of her hands. Janet screws up her face as the stinking mess slowly slides down her wrists, her friend's gooey cum squelching as she opens and closes her hands.

Unfortunately for Janet, her travails were not yet finished. Jodi gives Leslie a knowing look, before asking, "Want to fuck her face this time? I feel like raping her cunt instead of her ass for once." Leslie giggles in acquiesce, already more than excited to get stroked off with her own cum while she fills Janet's face. Janet however whines in protest waving hands in a warding gesture, Jodi had promised that she wouldn't fuck her pussy! Jodi was inclined to remind her that she wouldn't break her, just fuck her, but the sight of Leslie's thick semen coating Janet's hands fills her mind with degenerate thoughts. She had always loved the sloppy sensation of her friend's jizz on her cock, so why not take it a step further and enjoy it in other ways as well...? Jodi gives in to the perverse urges, voluntarily allowing herself to indulge in her darkest fantasies for the rest of this fuck-fest. She pulls one of Janet's hands up to her face, and locking eyes with Leslie, Jodi licks her smelly load off of Janet's skin. Leslie's cock bulges with arousal, and the pervert joins in the fun, eating their shared load off of Janet's other hand, whose owner shivers as the two rapacious bitches lick and suckle upon her fingers. Soon they are messily making out, smearing their cum-laced spittle across one another's lips as Janet's watches with undisguised, if relieved, disgust. But the pair had not forgotten about their last pet, and as Jodi murmurs something in Leslie's ears they both look evilly at her. "You're right Janjan," Jodi smiles, "You did a good job stroking us so this time I'm going to violate your feet; if you aren't squealing like a whore then I will break your pussy, got it?" Janet can only blubber in acquiesce.

Jodi is panting like a degenerate as she squishes Janet's dainty feet together, on her knees humping her delicate toes as the slut whines noisily. Janet moans like a pornstar as her friend debases herself dirtying her soles, her vulnerable cunt on full display as she lays on her back; watching with trepidation as Leslie strokes herself voyeurishly. But she needn't worry much, as Leslie instead positions herself behind Jodi, her long member already leaking with excitement, as she lines it up. Jodi groans as Leslie's huge cock slips into her ass, her own monstrous member emitting a slurry of precum as her prostate is stimulated. Leslie for her part is already orgasming, the novelty of using her friend's asshole already too much for her sensitive dick. Leslie presses herself against Jodi, their sweaty skin sticking together as she waits for her fellow streamer's reaction. Jodi was in rapture, a naturally sadistic dominatrix, giving into her more "submissive" side had driven her wild with lust, and so naturally she demanded more. "Rape me Leslie," Jodi growls, "Rape me until you're satisfied, use me until you're empty!" What remained of Leslie's restraints snaps, and she begins to plow Jodi even harder than she had even Rae; she had always wanted to fuck Jodi, and now she had been given permission to go wild. Janet watches with fascinated horror as Jodi's belly bulges repeatedly as Leslie jackhammers her friend, as fresh semen slops out of Jodi's cock and all over her feet. Jodi's load explodes all over Janet, covering her with thick streamers of jizz as Leslie fucks Jodi's load out of her, not even pausing as her friend shudders with overstimulation. Nor does Leslie stop for the next hour, rapaciously plowing Jodi's guts as she howls her name, filling her with load after load until her stomach is bloated from all the cum inside of it. Jodi had climaxed almost continuously, forcing Janet to pleasure her with her feet and hands and mouth as her jizz had spewed all over her until she was almost coated in stinking semen.

Leslie only stops raping Jodi's asshole when she notices her seductively sucking and licking her own cum off of Janet's extremities. Leslie joins her friend in cleaning up the fruits of her labor as Janet moans and shivers as the pair clean up Jodi's massive mess. She is more than happy though that the pair were not violating her own holes anymore, at least now the bitches were fucking each other rather than good girls like her! Janet has little time to gloat however as Leslie finally pulls out of Jodi, whose asshole sputters thick stinking jizz down her thighs before she turns around and forces Janet's face into her butt. Janet gags as she chokes down the vile meal, and her delicate hands are forced to stroke Jodi's dripping cock once more. Jodi herself is far from lax, as Leslie slaps her filthy member against her face, as she greedily opens her mouth, lapping at the sticky meat. Shuddering, Leslie forces her flexible meat down Jodi's throat, she had always wanted to fuck her friend's face, and Jodi does not disappoint, taking it all like a woman should. She doesn't even gag as Leslie's sweaty balls slap against her chin, she even shoves her groomed fingers up Leslie's ass to stimulate her prostate. Torrents of jizz spew down Jodi's throat as Leslie pumps her stomach full of turgid sperm, as she unceasingly fucks her mouth even as Jodi's face turns purple from lack of air. Eventually, Leslie tires of her sport, and when she pulls out a welter of semen follows her back up, as Jodi pukes her load all over her cock.

After some rather messy cleanup, where poor Janet was once more forced to have her throat used to clean off Leslie's cock, Leslie returns to brutally plowing Jodi in every position imaginable. All the while the perverted pair indulge in their depraved fetishes by constantly licking and kissing Janet's feet and hands, smearing them with cum before cleaning them off. Janet can only writhe in unwanted pleasure as her extremities are worshipped, though she much prefers this to having her cunt destroyed like Rae's... Who at this point was feigning unconscious, and surreptitiously attempting to shove her prolapsed cervix back into her cunt; which unfortunately for her does not go unnoticed. By this point Jodi looked as if she were pregnant, her innards so bloated with semen her tummy was bright red and grotesquely swollen, and was in urgent need to unburden herself. Groaning, Jodi stops sucking Leslie's cum off of Janet's and orders her to drag Rae over, it's time that bitch got back to work serving as their cum dump. Desperate to protect her friend, Janet refuses, and screams in horror as Jodi drags her beneath her and shoves her thick slobbering dick into her cunt. It seems like Jodi and Leslie will get to break Janet's pussy after all today...

Rae should enjoy having to suck Janet's blown-out cunt clean, speaking of, while Jodi is busy raping Janet, Leslie hauls a struggling Rae over and deposits her by the rutting pair. Jodi grunts in satisfaction before stopping, and together the two pull Janet and Rae off of the bed and force them to their knees, slapping their faces with their dripping cocks. The unlucky girls have their faces pushed together, as the other streamers warn them to stay put as they start to stroke their load out onto their poor friends. Groaning, Jodi and Leslie verbally and physically abuse them, slapping them and threatening them with brutal rape if they did not swallow every last drop of their cum. Sobbing, Janet and Rae have no choice but to comply as ropes of chunky semen splatter onto their faces, their skin painted with white as they drink the cum that leaks into their open mouths.

Unfortunately for Janet and Rae, Jodi and Leslie still have an hour of free-use left...

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 5

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one. two. three. four.

Five. 五

Donaka's house is beautiful, and it’s a pleasure to be in, even though you’re constantly working at this or that task to keep it immaculate. You don’t mind the honest work. It’s satisfying in a way working on a computer never was, more immediately gratifying than teaching, and certainly less heartbreaking than writing ever was. 

Sometimes you take a moment to just sit and enjoy the ambiance in his rooms, but by far your favorite space in the house is the library. Built in bookshelves line the walls, an antique table sits in the center, and a circle of comfy leather chairs sit by the window. You’ve taken to spending some of your breaks in there, reading this or that for the fifteen minutes allotted. 

You are reaching for a book on a high shelf, just out of your reach, when a much longer arm seemingly appears out of nowhere over your head, plucking down the volume easily. 

You didn't even hear Mr. Mark enter the room. Usually, he’s at work at this time of day, though you’ve noticed he’s been home more lately. You gasp and turn, finding him standing close enough that you feel the warmth emanating from his body. He’s like a furnace.

He enjoys sneaking up on you. There’s nothing he wants more, than to push you back against the shelves and take you, but he is a patient predator. He settles for just handing you the book with a lifted eyebrow. You take it absently, wondering if you are in trouble. It’s impossible to tell, from his impassable expression.

"Hello, Mr. Mark," you say softly. 

He smirks at your timid greeting, delighted with this development. He’s known for days, of course, that you were coming in here. He didn’t really mind–you were always careful with the books, reverent in the way you handled them, even the newer tomes that could be easily replaced. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks sardonically, implying that you should be cleaning something, rather than looking at his books on Chinese art. 

"Yes. I'm...on my break," you are quick to explain. 

Donaka lets his gaze slowly and openly travel over you. He can’t help but find you beautiful, even in your unassuming black dress and white apron, your hair swept back neatly. 

He takes a half-step closer to you, leaning against the bookshelf, caging you in with his broad frame. “You should use this time to take refreshment. Why are you so unkind to your body?” he scolds, annoyed that you do not treat yourself as well as he thinks you should. 

You frown a little, clutching the book to your chest like a shield. He inwardly scoffs at this, finding the thought that a book between you could save you from him. 

"I...didn't want to risk getting food on your books," you admit, annoyed that he seems to think he can control what you eat and drink too. Chill out, man. Even you are smart enough to let that die unsaid on your tongue. 

“Very kind of you,” he deadpans. You do not miss the dry sarcasm in his tone, and you realize you have made a mistake, thinking you could just come in here and be alone with the smell of old paper for a little while. But now you’re stuck with this book in your hands, which you can’t put away without his help. Your quick escape is thwarted.

“How about this,” he proposes, tilting his head. “You can come in here in the evening, any time you want. But right now, you should go have a cup of tea, and a healthy snack.” No potato chips, practically rings out unsaid between you. 

“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Mark,” you say, not happy with this offer at all. Maybe you could do worse, than your handsome employer taking an interest in your health, and offering to share his books with you. But there’s more to it beneath the surface, something darker, controlling. You sense it more than you could prove it.

You wonder how often he would find his way in here, if you started spending your evenings in one of those oversized leather chairs, curled up with a book… You can’t help but look at the table next. That sturdy fucking table, such a debauchable surface, if he were to grab you up and pin you down there…

Stop stop stop. 

You can’t stop. Not your thoughts, at least. Your feet, however, are ready to go. 

He is searching your face with that sharp gaze that sees everything. He doesn’t look pleased, almost as though he knows you’re not going to come in here again unless you are cleaning. 

Hoping to distract him before he can concoct something else, you hand him back the book to re-shelve, since you clearly can't reach it.

He accepts it, his eyes never leaving your face, but his fingers brushing yours. It feels like an electric shock, when he touches you, and that predictable rush of heat floods your body, from the tips of your fingers to your treacherous, aching, center. 

It’s almost as though you have no sense of self-preservation at all. 

"Thank you, Mr. Mark." You sidle around him, thinking about how you’re always fleeing the rooms he's in. It's almost becoming a comedic bit between you–but you’re not laughing, as you feel his hungry eyes on your back as you go.

“Y/n?”

You were so close to escaping. 

“Sir?” you ask timidly, turning slowly in the doorway.

“Tell Mrs. Wong I’ll have my tea early today. Bring it to me on the terrace.”

There is a single beat during which you consider reminding him you’re on your break still, and that’s not usually your duty around the house. The impulse evaporates as he fixes you with that dark stare, and you dare not defy him further. 

“As you like, sir.”  

He inclines his head with a little smirk, as though to say, ‘See how it goes for you when you defy me?’ All in all…you feel like you got off pretty easily. That is, until you are bringing him the tray with his beautiful burnished earthenware yi xing teapot, and some little dishes filled with dried fruit and nuts. They do look tasty, you have to admit, but that’s neither here nor there for you now. 

The terrace is cloistered by greenery, a pool beside it filled with flowing-finned koi carp. In the distance one can see the blue glitter of the sea. It really is a view fit for a king, and even though you still don’t really know a thing about Donaka Mark other than he is wealthy and ridiculously good looking, you are happy for him. 

You set down the tray without making a sound, and he smirks at you as you bow your head, making to flee once more. “Sit down,” he orders, in the guise of a polite invitation. You recognize it immediately for what it is. 

“Sir…” 

You don’t know why the thought of staying with him twists you up in knots inside. Perhaps simply because you want to, even while knowing it is not your place to do so. 

“Sit,” he says again, and with a sigh you do as you’re told, perching on the edge of the chair. It’s incredibly peaceful, in this place. The sound of the fountain tinkling beside you, the salt-tinged breeze coming off the water beyond…for a moment, you close your eyes, perhaps because you can feel his gaze boring into you. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening between the two of you, but that little instinct deep inside that is rarely wrong–and you rarely listen to…is sounding the alarm. 

“This teapot is two-hundred years old,” he tells you, pouring a cup. Your eyes go a little wide, as you think about the heritage you’d unwittingly carted across the house in your two little hands. It must be very valuable. “It makes an exceptional cup of dark oolong.” 

As he sets the cup in front of you, as well as the little dish of dried fruit and nuts, you know you resemble one of those open-mouthed carp in the pond in your surprise. “Another auction-house conquest?” you dare ask. 

“Something like that. It was not cheap.” 

Your lips twist as you attempt to keep your wry comments to yourself. As usual–you fail. “Do me a favor and don’t tell me what you paid for it, if I have to carry it back to the kitchen.” 

He chuckles quietly at that. “You think it was a waste of money?”

“No, there are definitely worse things to waste your money on.” 

You realize a beat later that your comment sounded far more specific than you meant it to, your personal prejudices making their way out the cracks of your armor.

Lucky you, he seems amused by this, though you can’t help but wonder if it’s a trap when he asks, “Oh? Like what?” 

“I didn’t mean you specifically…” 

The flash of his smile is like a baring of teeth; you are equally mesmerized as you are mortified. Is this what the little deer feels, a moment before it is snatched up in the jaws of the tiger?

“Yes you did. Come on, tell me.” 

“I’d rather not.”

“Playing hard to get as usual. Is it my art collection?” 

“No,” you answer immediately. 

“My beautiful house?”

“No,” you reply again in earnest. 

“My clothes?” 

No, you rather like those too. You simply shake your head, wishing, as usual, that you could run away, or turn back time, and shut your fat fucking mouth. 

“Hmm. What’s left? Ah, it’s my cars.” 

You are practically writhing in your seat, as he hits this nail on the head. 

“Absolutely none of my business, sir.” 

“Of course it’s not, but where’s the fun in that?”

You sense the fun in this for him is making you sweat. 

“So go on? What’s wrong with them? Lamborghini not to your taste?” 

You take a sip of tea, closing your eyes momentarily to appreciate the flavor. It really was wonderful, bitter yet somehow silky on the back of the tongue. Enjoy it now, you think–he’s going to fire you in five seconds. 

“Well. If they make you spend that much…” you deadpan, “You’d think they’d at least have the decency not to make them so ugly.”

For a moment you think you are dead–not fired, but soon to be murdered–until a bark of laughter escapes this usually so-severe man, the flash of his white teeth startling in the sunlight. “I’ll be sure to tell them you said so,” he retorts, saluting you with his cup of tea, before taking a sip. “Though you might feel differently, if you’d let me give you a ride.” 

You freeze for a moment while reaching for a peanut. He meant in his car you deranged dumpster fire of a woman. 

“I’m sure…its performance is bar none,” you answer diplomatically. You see his smirk out the corner of your eye, and you feel your ears burning.

“So tell me, my little housekeeper with all the big opinions. If you had my money, what would you spend it on?” 

His money? As usual, you can’t tell if he is baiting you with the subtle choice of his words. You sigh, taking a piece of dried fruit. You think for a few moments, though it doesn’t take long.

“Honestly? The same thing I’m doing now.”

He chuckles at this. “You like cleaning my house that much?”

“It’s not bad.” Despite the probable ulcer developing from living in proximity to this tempting man. “But when my work visa expires in six months, I’m going to travel again.”

Donaka’s expression sharpens immediately at hearing this, his brows pulling in a frown. “You’re leaving us so soon?”

“I…told your assistant, in the interview. It wasn’t a secret.”

Donaka still glowers at you, and you can’t help but feel like you did something wrong. But he wrangles his emotions, whatever they may be, into a neutral expression. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You are obviously overqualified for this position.”

“I am educated, but I don’t really feel like that qualifies me for much of anything.”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, and you sense he is still annoyed with you. “What about your writing?”

You shrug, even while it feels like a knife delivered to your chest. “It’s never come to anything.”

“How hard did you try?”

You trace the rim of your little tea cup, gnawing at the inside of your cheek. 

“Enough to break my heart one more time than I could take,” you admit, suddenly feeling raw under his piercing gaze. Rejection is wearing. So is pouring your soul into something that only amounts to very little when you were foolish enough to hope. You’ve never managed to turn anything you enjoy into a money making endeavor. It always makes you feel like you’re dying inside. 

 Donaka, however, seems less than sympathetic. “You shouldn’t give up.”

You shrug, ready to change the subject. It’s not like you’ve stopped writing. You’re just not writing anything that can ever see the light of day. “I will take that under advisement.”

He narrows his eyes, like he doesn’t believe you’re taking him seriously. “You know what your problem is?”

“Would you like a list?”

“Very funny. But I think you’ve never truly been afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Exactly. I can tell. I think you’re intelligent, and maybe you’re tough, but you’ve never been to the edge of survival. There’s something about your contempt for the display of wealth that makes me think you come from it. You’re content with mediocrity because you know if you have to, you can always run home to mommy and daddy. You have a safety net that keeps you lazy.”

You blink at that. It’s maybe half true, though you would rather eat roadkill than go home to your father with your hand out.  “I’m not…lazy.”

“Of course you are. You’re certainly not realizing your fullest potential.”

This hurts way more than it should. Maybe…because he’s not wrong. This man has an edge of danger to him–it wouldn’t surprise you at all, to learn he’s a self-made millionaire. Maybe he had a rough childhood, and climbed over anyone he had to, to get where he is. Good for him. You wonder vaguely who he’s hurt along his journey to the top. Deep down, you know men don’t get where Donaka Mark is without someone paying a price. 

“Maybe not. But not everyone wins the big jackpot in life. I’m content with where I am now.”

“For now? And where will you go from here?” 

“India, I think.”

“Why?”

“There are still things I want to see.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Because I want to. Because I can. Why do anything in this pointless existence?” You are careful not to raise your voice to him, though your heart gallops in your chest like you are having an argument. The yawning void of your old friend nihilism opens up before you, a black hole you know well but haven’t had to contend with for a while.  

His lips curl for you, though it is not a nice smile. “You lack a sense of purpose.”

He’s not wrong, though you don’t think he understands you as well as he thinks. You find the endless march of humanity perpetuating itself tiresome and destructive. You find the rat race pursuit of wealth for the sake of winning a pissing contest exhausting. The hypocrisy of religion has never appealed to you. On the whole, you find homo sapiens to be a sad and ridiculous species with a few bright spots, but unfortunately you are one, you’re stuck here, and you have to find something to do with your time until you check out.

Usually you’re content in your own little world, trying not to harm anyone…but he flips this switch for you in two seconds flat, and you find yourself clenching your jaw as the weight of it crushes you down. You have to admit this was not how you expected this day to go. Silly you, for thinking you could just sit down with a book for ten minutes unbothered.

He pours himself another cup of tea, pretending that he doesn’t notice you’re stewing in an existential crisis while sitting across from him. “I could change that for you, you know.”

Confused and unsettled, which is probably exactly what he intended to do to you, you shift in your chair. Is he propositioning you? Or is he talking about something else entirely? You feel like a low-level current is running through your bone marrow, slowly cooking you from the inside. 

You’re not sure if he’s asking you to be his mistress–or to join a cult. Maybe it would be nearly one and the same.

From the flashing look in his eyes, you don’t think he expected you to laugh at him. It’s the only way you can get up the courage to say this to his face: “Respectfully…no one says that unless they’re trying to evangelize you into something, Mr. Mark.”

His lips dance as he smirks at you. “But you are above manipulation, Miss y/n?” 

“Probably not,” you admit, suddenly nervous all over again about where this is heading. Why does every conversation you have with this man have to feel like a fucking chess game? “Though I like to think…I am somewhat aware, at least.” 

“Being aware of manipulation is not the same as being immune to it, believe me.” Again he smiles wide enough to flash teeth, and you can tell he is truly enjoying himself now. “Can you really say that wealth doesn’t interest you? I don’t buy it.” 

“The ostentatious display of wealth doesn’t interest me,” you grumble, flashing back to the hellish court-ordered summers you once spent at your father’s tasteless mansion with your insufferable half-siblings always crowing about their latest couture conquests. 

“Ah. That’s why you hate the Lambo.” 

“No, I really do think it’s ugly.” It maybe feels too good to tell him so, after he was so brutally honest to you. However, you can tell immediately that you fail to hit your mark. He lifts his eyebrows, seemingly amused by your agitation, his dark eyes shining. 

You look at him sitting across from you in the dappled afternoon light; why does this man have the right to look so beautiful, while he’s being so mean?

“You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” you grouse. You really would rather be scrubbing a toilet right now. 

“I think if you had real money, you would do the exact same thing I do; use it to acquire things that please you. You’re no different from me, or anyone else.”

What is it about this man, that makes you feel like you’re being slowly electrocuted? You dare to meet his gaze, finding his dark eyes veritably dancing with enjoyment for making you squirm. You cannot help but wonder if he counts you as one of those things. 

Maybe Donaka Mark thinks you’re an underachiever, but you reckon this man might be surprised by your stubborn streak. No matter your fascination with him…you need to cut him from your heart, because you’re more certain than ever that he would be the death of you. You do not possess a thick enough skin to tangle with a man like this on a regular basis. 

“That might be true,” you answer, looking back down at your teacup. “But at least I’m not a bully.” 

“Have I hurt your feelings, y/n?”

He fucking knows he has, and you would give anything to be able to quit the table right then. You consider dropping his precious teapot on the way back to the kitchen; but think better of it, and not just because you suspect he might string you up by your thumbs. It would be a tragic loss of art.  

“May I go, Mr. Mark?” 

“Not until you answer my question.” 

“Yes, you hurt my feelings. Now may I go?” 

“No. How did I offend you? By speaking the truth?” 

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you answer with a sigh, looking out at the glittering water beyond. 

“Well?”

You make a plaintive sound, wishing the ground would just swallow you up whole, rather than having to admit the truth out loud to this man. But he waits patiently, and you just know there will be no escape for you, until you give this man the answer he wants. 

“I thought…you liked me,” you answer quietly. “But never fear, I am disabused of that foolish notion, sir. Now may I go?” 

“I do like you. Haven’t you been listening?” He sounds genuinely puzzled. 

You laugh at that, and it sounds pathetic even to you.   

Now, at last, he seems as frustrated with you as you are with him. “Fine. Go back to work, y/n.” He makes a shooing gesture with his fingers, and you have never been so grateful to be dismissed in your life. 

You hope this little interlude will convince him to just leave you alone.

“Thank you, sir,” you say with a cloying deference, and you hear him growl behind you as you scurry away. It sends an agonizing thrill jetting down your spine, and it’s all you can do not to run. 

Little do you know, you haven’t scared him off by half. You just threw down a gauntlet.

[red5tars]

minors + ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked.

cw; nonconsensual kink -> pet play, kidnapping, drugging, light dehumanization

johnny has always wanted a dog.

his mam never let him have one growing up, always complaining that it would track mud in, ruin her carpets, and just be too much to handle alongside johnny and his sisters. so, he remained dogless, coming home to the shrill voices of his sisters instead of the soft whines of a pup.

every time he comes home from deployment, he frequents the pet shop in the center of town, eying the newest additions. the shopowner is an older man, a retired veterinarian. a nice guy, letting johnny know what it feels like to have a furry companion even if it’s just for an hour or two.

after one of his visits, the shopowner asks, “why don’t ya take one of them to your steid, johnny? i bet any of them would be happy to go home with ya.”

johnny hums in thought, stroking a small terrier in his arms.

with a grin, he replies, “finally git a pup o' mah own, cannae overcrowd th' steid.”

and the shopkeeper’s face twists into a puzzled look. last time he checked, johnny was dogless, getting his fix only when he came into the shop. before he could ask anymore questions, johnny checked the clock, letting out a brief sigh as he set the terrier down.

“gottae git home now, pup gets a bit whiny when ah dinnae feed ‘em on time,” he flashes the owner an apologetic smile, the sound of the bell ringing as johnny pushes the door open and makes his exit.

all the shipowner can do is sigh, crossing his arms over his chest, “strange, lad.”

——

the sound of a door closing stirs you from your sleep. memories of last night comes in bits and pieces; grinding on some stranger, chapped lips against your own, someone’s hand slipping down your pants.

vaguely, you remember the man taking you home, and it seems he was a good fuck considering how sore the space between your legs is. you also remember him giving you some water after, something about needing to stay hydrated.

the pounding in your head makes you release a groan, only for the sound to be muffled, buried behind your teeth. the feeling of something in your mouth makes your eyes widen, and you attempt to bring your hand up to your face, to touch whatever is restricting your voice.

though, that becomes the least of your worries when you see your hands are no longer hands, restricted in some sort of leather. they resemble paws more than anything else.

you can feel your heart rate rise at this revelation, so you finally examine your surroundings.

the room is familiar, the bars in front of your face are not.

the man who took you home mentioned that it was for his new puppy before he went down on you and ate you like a man starved. this cage was meant for a dog, so why were you in it?

a billion questions swarm your mind, but the answer for all of them walks into the room and turns on the light.

your head snaps toward the man who took you home. he spares you the same grin he used to lure you back to his place. slowly, he walks forward, crouching down a few feet in front of the crate. fear takes over your senses, making your body vibrate. his grin turns into a sympathetic smile (though you swore it was sadistic).

“dinnae be afraid,” his voice is soft when he speaks, but he gentle baritone does nothing to quell your fear. rather than address it, he just continues, “i hae no plans to harm ye, lass,” his hand runs over the crate, as if he were stroking you. his continued attempts at trying to soothe you are out of touch at best, mocking at worst.

despite the gag in your mouth, you manage a muffled ‘who are you?!’ that is comprehensible. at this, the man raises his eyebrows, surprised to hear you ask such a question.

then, his face breaks out into a warm smile when he gives his answer;

“yer owner, o’course.”

[cherubmm]

𓆩☀️𓆪⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARMTH࿐ྂ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━FEATURING: SWAPDREAM.dream

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━CONTENT WARNING: Yandere in general. Soft yandere. Unhealthy attachment. Obsessive & Possessive behavior. Hinted of god complex. Implied of sexual advances. Unwanted advances. Invasion of privacy. manipulation hinted. Delusional mindset. Nonconsensual touches are presented. Implied power imbalance. OOC. Proofread

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━PROMPT BY: cherubmm

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: The next upcoming fics will delay than the usual. This one is supposed to be at 17 but I'm really busy right now.

“let's stay like this more, darling~. My bones feel freezing cold without your warmth.”

A boyish, heartfelt purr buzzed right against your ear, sending unwanted chills through you despite the suffocating heat. You tried to move, to squirm away, but your body was sluggish, weak. The hold on you was too tight. Everything felt unbearably hot—both inside and out. Your skin was sticky, damp with sweat that made your clothes cling uncomfortably. Your mind was a foggy mess, thoughts barely forming as if stuck in the heart of desert.

Even the air you breathed was thick and oppressive, warm in a way that felt unnatural, like you were inhaling straight from a furnace. Your body worked overtime to keep up with the intensity of it, but the more you tried to resist, the more exhausted you became. Your chest heaved, each breath heavy and labored, your vision wavering as the world around you blurred.

The heat was unbearable, like the walls themselves were closing in, trapping you in an oven. You barely managed to squirm, your energy draining more and more with each second spent in his iron-like grip. It felt like you were suffocating..

“Aww, what’s got you all sweated up, hmm~? Can’t handle a bit of my affection?”

His voice was sickeningly sweet, laced with amusement as he watched you struggle beneath him. Dream’s face was stretched in a playful, almost predatory grin, completely unfazed by your feeble resistance. Of course, why would he be? To him, you looked utterly adorable.... writhing next him like a helpless little chick, freshly hatched and ready for the world — or, in this case, ready for him.

And oh, does he loved having you close. Sharing his warmth with you felt like a gift only he could offer, something you clearly needed.

his grip tightened around you even more, pulling you closer, almost flush within the cage of his bony riibs, as if he was trying to absorb you entirely. The only thing stopping you from getting even closer was his shirt, a barrier between you that the vibrant god found a bit pesky. His wings—large, radiant and made purely of glowing positivity—folded around you like a cocoon, trapping even more heat between you.

You groaned, trying to will yourself to break free, but every attempt only made the hold around you stronger. You were trapped.

“D-Damnit… Dream…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You wished you could curse him out properly, something far more offensive, something that would knock that smug smile right off his face. You felt pathetic. How the hell did you even end up here?

You briefly winced at the fogged memory. This fucking chicken had broken into your home—again—like it was some kind of privilege playground only for him. He’d bypassed your locks, your security system, everything. The absurd part? All your devices—brand new, mind you—had conveniently overheated and fried. It was like a sick joke, except you were the punchline.

“Hm~? What was that?” Dream’s voice broke through your hazy thoughts, his tone a mocking sing-song. “I couldn’t quite hear you over all those cute noises you’re making— not that I'm complaining, of course"

You wanted to scream, to rip whatever cursed magic was inside him that made him speak, but your body felt like it was being crushed under the heat.

He shifted his position slightly, making sure to keep you pressed tightly against him, then rolled the both of you so that you were lying flat beneath him. His weight pressed down on you, but it wasn’t the weight that was suffocating—it was the scorching heat. It was everywhere, creeping into every part of you.

Dream leaned down close to you, his breath tickling your exposed skin as he let out a playful puff of air. You flinched, the sensation somehow managing to feel like scalding water hitting your skin. His bony hands trailed lazily over your form, his sharp fingers hooking under your shirt as he slowly lifted it, exposing your stomach to his hungry eyes.

“Hmm, look at this, soft skin… and so warm. Just perfect" The Epitome of positivity purred, more to himself than to you, as he traced circles over your exposed flesh. His sharp phalanges kneaded and pinched at your flesh, testing, as though the god were playing with his food.

Without warning, he lowered his head, hovering his face just inches above your skin. His golden-orange tongue slipped out from his cages teeth, glistening in the dim light as he ran it down your stomach, tasting the sweat that had pooled there.

Your breath hitched in shock, and you tried to squirm away, but his grip on you only tightened further.

“So warm, so perfect. I could just stay here forever, don’t you think?” His pinprick eyes dilated as he licked his lips, savoring every moment of your discomfort.

“Forever’s gonna be really short if you keep this up,” you muttered, trying to summon even a sliver of your usual defiance despite the heat still making your head spin.

Oh, you’re so dramatic, my little darling,” he teased, his wings flexing as he pulled you tighter. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you never feel cold again." With a strangled sneer, you wished more than ever that you could at least slap that grin off his face. But the most you could manage was to slump against him in defeat, the heat stealing what little energy you had left.

“Well, since you’re already so comfortable,” Dream continued with a mockingly sympathetic tone, “let’s just enjoy this warmth together, hmm?”

You didn’t even have the energy to groan.

Ⓒ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐦 ──── 10/18/24. Navigation | Masterlist

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Gyutaro General Profile

Yandere! Gyutaro x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, mentions of non-con, mentions of masturbation, nonconsensual touching, semi graphic descriptions of violence, murder, mentions of catcalling and objectification (not by our lovely disturbed Gyutaro), poor nutrition, descriptions of Gyutaro consuming human flesh, lack of vitamin D in the underground lair, Gyutaro is cripplingly insecure and it shows, threats of violence against you, yelling, deragatory language, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of reader being non-traditionally pretty, 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: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Motherly 

The feelings he holds for his darling are, of course, not platonic, but there’s a part of him that craves to be cared for.

Daki cares for him, true, but he needs more – a sort of love that will leave his cold, empty heart racing, a love that will make his pessimistic views of himself and the world just a bit softer, someone to hold and warm his bed and tell him that he’s enough.

It’s sad, really; he’s so painfully insecure, so full of self-hatred and loathing that the moment his darling shows even an ounce of kindness or care for him, he’s done for.

He’s latching onto them, desperate for any ounce of love or attention they can give him, greedily taking and taking and taking, needing to feel cared for and wanted in a way he’s only ever dreamed of.

His darling is addicting, the feelings they give him becoming something he needs in order to simply just function, and a darling who can help foster these feelings and continually care for him would be very, very attractive to him.

He needs a darling who pities him, really, though he doesn’t want this to be obvious – they need to feel for him, to want to help him and stop all these horrible self deprecating comments, to help give him even just the slightest bit of confidence.

And just these efforts alone will have him gulping, his claws sinking into their sides in an effort to keep them by his side, safe and secure and trapped, so that they can never leave him.

Patient

He’s emotionally stunted.

 Having been turned to a demon from a difficult, horrible human life, he’s never had any experience with romance or how to properly woo someone. He’s rough around the edges and short tempered, easy to set off in a fit of anger with very little reason.

 He’s genuinely quite difficult to be around, and the constant negativity he spews about his life, humanity, and himself can be hard to tolerate.

As a result, he has to have a darling who is patient; they need to be able to handle all of the foul words and complaining he sends at them, just nodding along and comforting him, letting him clutch onto them and curl around their body, nearly suffocating them as he pours his heart out, relishing in the feeling of someone being there for him.

They need to be able to sooth him when his emotions get out of hand, running their fingers through his spindly hair and slowly rubbing his back, whispering his name and telling them that it’s okay, I’m here now, let’s try to get some sleep.

He needs a steady figure in his life, someone he can fall back on, someone to depend on and keep by his side as his rock.

He's too reclusive and standoffish to have had anyone prior to his darling, and the moment that his obsession forms, he’s latching onto them and never, ever letting go, akin to a parasite.

They become his sounding board, and while he does come as close to love as his twisted heart can get, at the end of the day they’re a possession of his, and they must be able to handle him.

Things will ugly very quickly if they can’t; a fate both he and his darling want to avoid.

Submissive 

Gyutaro likes the idea of a darling who will revere him. He doesn’t want someone who is feisty or stubborn; he likes the idea of a darling who is submissive and nurturing, kind and patient and utterly willing to do everything he wants.

He has such trouble being vulnerable, and a darling who challenges him in any way will immediately force him to backtrack any sort of progress he makes in this field, his shell closing in on himself and cutting him off from any further emotional contact with his darling.

He’s sensitive, and he needs someone who will simply nod and allow him to hold them, even if his hands are deathly cold and he’s so awkward about physical affection that it hurts.

He needs someone who will smile when he asks them to, the apples of their cheeks plumping up and their pretty teeth on display, the smile – even forced – making his heart ache in a way he simultaneously adores and makes him nauseas.

He needs someone who will let him rant and rave into their ear, his grip on them slowly tightening as he details all of the horrible injustices in the world, complaining about humans and how vile they are.

(He’ll always begrudgingly bury his face against his darling’s back or stomach when he does this, his voice small and weak as he says but not you, you’re different, you’re the only good one of those miserable, filthy beings…)

He just needs someone who will support him, even if that obedience comes from a place of fear and self preservation.

It doesn’t matter, because all that matters to Gyutaro is that they’re with him, warm and alive and pliant in his arms, listening to him and touching him and running their fingers through his hair.

He just needs someone to love, and is that really so much for a creature like him to ask for?

Not traditionally pretty 

While this isn’t a requirement, Gyutaro finds that a darling who isn’t the classical beauty everyone idolized when he was a human is preferable.

He certainly doesn’t find his darling ugly - absolutely not, but the idea of having a darling who has an insecurity regarding their looks is very, very attractive to him.

He doesn’t want his darling to be perfect in others’ eyes – no, they can only be perfect in his eyes, because he’s the only one who seems them for who they truly are.

He’s the only one who understands that they’re more than just their beauty, that they’re sweet and smart and gorgeous and intriguing and so, so very warm.

It makes him feel like he and his darling are connected if they don’t fall under the mainstream category of beauty, like they share something secret and primal, like they understand the suffering and horrors he’s experienced.

It convinces him further that he and his darling are bonded, that it’s some sort of twisted fate that they end up together – the monster and his love, the freak and the only one who could ever love him. It’s oddly poetic in his eyes, and so while this isn’t an absolute necessity, it definitely encourages his attraction towards his darling.

They just grow more beautiful to him day by day, their imperfections becoming the things he loves most about them, and while it sounds almost sweet and innocent, it really, really isn’t.

He’s hyper fixating, and while he doesn’t mean to be rude or prey on his darling’s insecurities, he’ll often comment on these perceived imperfections, telling them that they’re different, unique, weird, but in what he hopes is a comforting, awe-filled tone.

(It’s not, and it will take his darling quite some time to figure out that he’s being honest – he really, truly loves these features. It’s not a lie, even if he sounds like he’s belittling you – truly.)

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Stalker

Gyutaro is, tragically, not the most confidant creature on Earth. He’s internalized every bit of negative treatment he’s experienced, fully believing himself to be repulsive, disgusting, a freak.

And this doesn’t exactly instill confidence in his ability to interact with you – he’s convinced he’ll somehow royally fuck up if he approaches you, whether that be by scaring you, accidentally hurting you, or making you hate him.

He’s sure you’ll find him ugly and strange, that you’ll stare at him in horror and try to run away from him, only to leave him with a broken heart and anger simmering through his veins because how dare you reject him?

 He’s convinced things will go awry if he tries to interact with you in any normal, healthy manner and so he falls back on a less consensual, less perilous position – that is, there are many, many benefits to stalking you.

He can observe you much better this way, watching you at your most vulnerable, when you think you’re alone, when you’re comfortable and at ease and utterly unaware of the violent monster sitting on your windowsill as you sleep, or the shadow in the corner of your bedroom as you dress to get ready for the day.

(You’ll sometimes hear this ragged sort of gasp, so quiet you’ll think you’ve made it up, but it’s real, his cheeks on fire and his hands shaking because god, even just the sight of your bare shoulder is enough to bring him to his knees.)

He’s watching through Daki as he resides inside of her, taking in the way your lips move when you speak, your tongue darting out to lick at the dry skin, your employer feeling the way her brother’s emotions spike upwards the longer you talk.

He watches the way your fingers skillfully move as you fold and sort the laundry piles of Daki’s clothing, your eyes glimmering in the light of the ornate House room, your lashes looking perfectly curled, the urge to count each individual hair making him urge Daki to slowly creep closer, dangerously close to bridging the too-big gap between your bodies.

He takes in the sound of your voice; sweet, like honey, something that makes him close his eyes and bite his lip, his brows drawing inward, the idea of you saying his name making him have to grasp onto the nearest object to keep his composure.

He’s hanging on to every word you say – your replies to Daki’s commands, your words of appreciation when she treats you like a slave, how relentlessly kind to her you are. It’s odd, and frankly he doesn’t understand it – why would you be so sweet to someone treating you so poorly?

It almost makes him mad, as he lays dormant, wishing he could escape his sister’s body and carry you to another room, to wipe the somewhat sad look in your eyes away, to maybe even hold you like he’s seen humans do, pressing you against his bony chest and feeling your warmth and seeing your pretty eyes look up at him and maybe even kissing you –

He’ll always stop himself with a miserable wail when these thoughts get too out of control, confusion coursing through him because what is he thinking? You’re a lowly human, weak and disgusting and obsessed with trivial, horrible things like beauty and greed – you aren’t worth his time or energy, even if your skin looks smooth to the touch, even if your body looks warm and soft underneath the layers of your clothing, even if he swears that you sometimes even seem to see him through Daki, as if you can sense his presence.

The denial slowly begins ebbing out of his system, however, as time goes on – and instead, he replaces it with an increased sense of desperation for you.

He starts spending more time outside of Daki’s body than inside, wishing to be independent so that he doesn’t have to merely observe and hope that Daki will be in the same room as you.

Now, he can freely follow you; tracing your every move to different rooms in the house, around the district. He can see who you interact with, learn what makes you smile and laugh, what makes you cry, and see how you grow uncomfortable when strange men leer at you and ask to see what you’re hiding beneath your kimono.

(Rarely does Gyutaro kill non-slayer humans with purpose aside from eating or petty revenge for reacting badly to his appearance, but that night those men died in the most excruciating way he could think of, their voices ringing in his head. C’mon pretty girl, a good bitch like you is only good for one thing. Aw look, she’s scared. That just makes me even more excited, little girl. The rest of the night he spent on your windowsill, yellow eyes fixed on your peacefully sleeping form, trying to engrave the sound of the men’s screams into his mind.)

He likes being your shadow; of course, he fantasizes about the day he’ll get to interact with you himself, but for now this is enough. He's terrified you’d reject him if he were to try to speak with you like a human, and if he tried to confess his feelings for you and you were to reject him?

Well, Gyutaro isn’t afraid of many things, but he’d rather insult Muzan than see the disgust and hate in your eyes directed at him.

So, he satiates himself with simply watching you, always keeping a healthy distance between you, one that makes him equal parts relieved and frustrated.

It’s easy to pretend like he's in your life this way; he’ll imagine you saying his name, imagine holding you while you sleep, brushing away stray strands of hair from your face while you smile at him. He runs his fingers over your pillow when you’re not in your room, brings your toothbrush to his lips as he slowly, deliberately licks across the tied bristles, eyes rolling back because is this what you taste like?

It’s easier to pretend like you actually know of his presence this way, like you’re happy that he’s watching out for you, like you want him to stare at you, like you want him to just be there, to be by your side.

He won’t be content forever to simply follow you, but before he steals you away to Daki’s lair, it’s enough. Just barely, but it takes Gyutaro so long to gather the courage to actually interact with you that this is the only way to save himself from potential embarrassment and rejection.

After all, he feels like he’s getting to know the real you this way – too bad you know nothing of the looming, violent presence sticking onto you like fucking glue. 

Clingy

Gyutaro has a difficult time expressing his feelings. With his limited romantic experience, he’s very much not adept at human emotional communication. He struggles to properly display how he feels for you, especially towards the beginnings of his obsession.

At first, he’s incredibly resistant to the idea of growing attached to you. You’re just a human, and a weak one at that – you’ve been blessed with a pretty face (gorgeous even, he might say, though the barrage of scratching at his eyes that follows that statement deters it), you’re kind, you’re everything he claims to hate.

And yet, he can’t stop thinking about you – it’s infuriating, and at first he finds himself idly wondering if he should just kill you to get all these confusing, uncomfortable feelings to go away.

He doesn’t like how he’s not in control when he thinks of you, his heart racing and his palms growing sweaty, this weird, foreign sense of urgency fluttering in his stomach because he just needs to see you, to let his eyes settle onto your figure, to hear your voice or watch as you bite your lip in concentration or peacefully sleep.

He wants to kill you, but the more he thinks about it, the less sure of that he becomes – there’s this sour taste in his mouth when he imagines your dead body, and it makes him scratch at his neck to imagine you not being alive and therefore not watchable.

So, begrudgingly, he decides he shouldn’t harm you – not out of cause for your safety, but rather out of selfishness. This is, of course, just what he tells himself – in reality, it’s very much because he can’t stomach the thought of you getting hurt.

He doesn’t want a single scratch to mar your pretty skin or a single hair on your head to be touched – you’re perfect, and you’re his little bit of perfection, one that he’s never had before. He’s never had someone make his heart race like this, nor has he ever had someone be so unintentionally kind to him.

Originally, you’d caught his attention because you’d seen a shadow of him in Daki’s room in the house, and as her servant, you’d quickly closed the door and begged her forgiveness for interrupting, only to offhandedly compliment the colors of his hair as you attended to her.

Gyutaro, having been resting within her, had heard your compliment, and immediately was bristling, his heart fighting between extreme anger that you could be making fun of him, and a smaller, pathetically hopeful piece of him that was wondering if you’d meant it, if he’d really just received the first compliment of his life.

And from then on, he’s lost – his obsession festers quickly and strongly, his dependence on you growing with every minute of every day as he relives your compliment over and over, slowly finding everything you do endearing and interesting and – dare he say it – cute. And so, simply put, any time that Gyutaro is not sealed away inside of Daki, he’s diligently by your side, stuck to you like glue.

Once he develops feelings for you, he becomes much more independent than his previous self – rarely does he reside within Daki anymore, unless he needs to rest. He doesn’t like being trapped and separated from you, because while he still retains a level of consciousness of what’s going on around him when he’s sealed away, residing within her limits his ability to communicate with you.

And god, does he love to do that – once he’s stolen you away, he’s always, always talking to you, his gravelly voice ringing in your ears even when you try to sleep. He’s always asking your opinion on things, questions that seem pointless about your favorite foods, colors, activities, even personal questions about himself.

(What is your favorite thing about me? And don’t lie, I can sense when you lie; your lip trembles slightly, and I’ll sense your heart beating faster. It might be hard to answer, I’m so ugly…)

And of course, when he’s got you trapped in his thin, inhumanely strong arms while you both reside in Daki’s nest as the sun beats on the ground above, he’s reaching deeper, the questions becoming more personal.

Hey, what’s your biggest fear? What makes you the happiest? How does it feel to be so misfortunate as to have me as your lover?

He’s not always looking for answers – though most of the time he is – but rather he just likes the way you look at him while he asks. Your eyes are wide, your rapt attention given to him, and the way you hang onto his every word has him feeling important, understood, even if your answers aren’t what he wants to hear.

He’s never punished you for a wrong answer to these questions, though it’s easy to read his disappointment. Mostly, he absolutely hates it when your compliments fall flat, or if you aren’t as kind and loving as you normally are to him.

If you don’t give as heartfelt of a compliment to his appearance as you did yesterday – instead of praising his collarbone as being defined and curved like a bird’s song sounds, you’re telling him his eyes are pretty – he’ll pout, like some child, though the repercussions and feeling of terror you’ll experience are anything but childish.

He’s frowning, a scowl pulling at his features because he wants more. Tell him how his eyes make you feel – do you get nervous butterflies in your stomach from them? Do you lose yourself in the amber depths, getting lost in the way he gazes at you with such ardent adoration and lust?

Gyutaro is needy, really, and you’ll very quickly learn this. It takes a while for him to allow himself to touch you (he’s nervous at first, though he’d never ever admit it – he’s killed and injured too many, never having known how to be gentle and loving, and the thought of accidentally hurting you has him scratching at his face and chest, agony blooming in his heart), but once he crosses that mental barrier, he’s suddenly never taking his hands off of you.

The touches are small at first – a hand at your cheek while his thumb traces your cheekbone, the sharp nail unbearably close to your eye as you stay as still as you possibly can. He’ll run his fingers over your hair, the texture growing familiar as that strange, dazed look overtakes his features.

He’ll try to have you in his arms as often as he possibly can, whether that’s leaning over your body while you stand before him, or forcing you to sit in his lap as he runs a finger up and down your spine, marveling at how soft and warm and pliant you feel in his grasp.

(You’ll be able to tell he’s in awe, too, because there’s always something hard pressing against your lower back and the breaths he wheezes into your ear are strained and uneven and gaspy.)

He grows a penchant for simply watching you, his eyes fixed on your form as you bite your lip and shiver, the freezing temperatures of Daki’s lair making your skin burst into goosebumps.

He’ll occasionally bring back human items; you’ve woken up to a ratty woolen blanket covering your form before, a thin pillow under your head while Gyutaro’s face peers at you from a mere foot away, his own body lying down beside yours. You’re sure he was watching you sleep – as he often does – but you can’t deny the warmth the blanket offers you, and you’ll even whisper with a soft voice, thank you, Gyutaro.

(You hadn’t been aware previously to him that demons could blush, but the soft pink that envelopes his cheeks is difficult to ignore, as is the way he warbles and rolls over to face away from you, curling in on himself and violently scratching at his chest, the embarrassment and influx of something warm and sweet and good in his heart making it hard to look at you.)

Generally, Gyutaro’s main goal is to always be around you, whether that’s being in the same room, you in his arms, or simply just staring from aware.

He’s needy, absolutely desperate for you to acknowledge him and validate every insecurity still left over from his time as a human, and while he doesn’t believe you most of the time, it’s still euphoric to hear. So please, please tell him you love the way he holds you so delicately and carefully. (Don’t mention the way his protruding bones dig into your skin, causing your discomfort and making it hard to spend the hours laying with him that he wants.)

Tell him that you enjoy the way he says your name, that it sounds sweet and romantic and loving. (The odd lilt that sounds just a bit too much like a moan isn’t important, of course, nor is the way you sometimes see his eyes roll back just slightly, as if the mere thought of you is enough to get his knees weak and blood rushing south. It is, but again, it’s not important.)

Tell him that you wish he’d be with you forever, that you’ll never leave his side. (And when you’re forced to drink Muzan’s blood – and Gyutaro’s, too, because he wants to feel more connected to you - and you become a demon, don’t be surprised when he says with a gleeful smile that now we can truly be together, stuck with me for all eternity, clutching onto you with all the force and strength he’s been yearning to for months.)

He just loves you, or as much as a demon can, so just take it, yeah?

Protective

Once his feelings for you begin to form, the residual urge to protect Ume that resided within his human self comes into play.

Of course, he still protects and prioritizes Daki’s safety, but you’re equally as important to him, just in a different way. With Daki, it’s about survival – he cannot live without her, and she cannot live without him. They’re siblings, bonded by something deep and intangible, something that can never be broken.

But you?

Oh, it’s different with you – you’re something he wants to protect, his own sweet, naïve little human that he gets to keep as his own for all eternity. He wants to keep you pristine and healthy and detached from the vile, horrible human world, because he wants to feel like your protector, to feel like you need him, like you wouldn’t be alive today without him stopping all sorts of threats.

(He’s the only real threat facing you, of course, but it’s not like that – of course not, because he loves you, and why would he ever hurt you? He’s already decided not to eat you, so why do you still seem so uncomfortable around him, always flinching away from him or breathing hard when he comes near you?)

Despite his mantra of balancing the inequalities of misfortune he’s had to endure, he sees you as his sole light. You’re the only thing he’s been given by the heavens, and how could he squander the only good thing he’s ever had?

The prospect of you dying or becoming horribly injured makes his eye twitch and his fingers grasp onto his scythes so tightly that his knuckles turn white, his bloodlust palpable in the air. And so, Gyutaro takes your safety very, very seriously.

He himself only eats human flesh, but he knows (begrudgingly), that you won’t partake in this particular diet, so he scrounges up stolen food from the various shops in the district. He’s not quite sure what all you like, and he’d never gotten the opportunity to try most foods when he was a human, so he relies solely on smell to guide his food picking.

 Everything he brings back is either extremely healthy (earthy materials with a residue of dirt on them, likely pulled directly from the ground out of someone’s home garden), or extremely unhealthy (boxes of pickled candies with minimal nutritional value).

He doesn’t remember what humans need in order to survive, so while the constant supply of food is good, the food itself is not.

And yet, there’s something oddly endearing about the way he watches while biting his lip (his sharp teeth drawing blood along with the nails that scratch at his biceps), eyes trained on you as you chew and swallow, watching every movement like a hawk. He’s so focused, the nervous question of do you like it rolling off his tongue before he can help himself, shame eating away at him because he sounds so damn pathetic. He’ll watch you eat, making sure you don’t choke, with his fingers shaking slightly as he holds himself back from reaching out to touch you, to make sure you’re real.

He’s always asking you if you’re feeling good, hoping that you don’t fall ill, because he remembers nothing of human medicine and he can’t exactly take you to a doctor with his condition.

And while his protectiveness in terms of your needs as his captee are admirable for a man-eating monster, the level at which he obsesses over your safety in other ways is less than ideal.

He’s so, so scared of you harming yourself that he does nearly everything for you. He’ll call you weak as he helps you bathe, his hands running over your naked skin with strokes that are much slower than they need to be, but he doesn’t mean what he says.

(You’re not even sure he's aware of what he’s saying – the way his eyes bulge out of his head every time he sees your bare ass tells you as much, as does the way his breathing gradually picks up as he bathes you, uneven breaths turning into labored pants until it reaches a fever pitch and oh – was that a moan of your name?)

He’ll tell you that you’re pathetic for needing his help walking around the lair, though you very much never asked for his assistance; nonetheless, his arms wrap under your armpits regardless, helping ease some of your weight off of your knees, the lack of exercise you receive from staying underground all day long making your muscles tired and weakened.

He’s condescending, really, though it’s painfully obvious he doesn’t mean to be. There’s malice in his eyes when he tells you these things, though you’ve learned he always has malice in his eyes, so is it really aimed towards you?

If he really hated humans and the blessed as much as he claims, would his grip on your delicate skin be as gentle as it is? You don’t think so, and while it hurts to be called weak and incapable every day, his insistence on helping you with the most trivial of tasks tells you that he cares about you more than he’s willing to admit.

And – heaven forbid – if you were to ever be in danger from another man?

Well, Gyutaro’s never enjoyed a kill so much, even against pesky Hashira. Because when he eventually tears out the man’s eyeballs, his teeth bared as he growls and groans at the fresh corpse, obliterating the body in a more graphic and violent way than usual, Gyutaro can’t help but feel smug because he saved you, he made sure this vile excuse for a life never laid a hand upon you.

And if it’s another demon that’s threatening you? Gyutaro’s an Upper Rank for a reason, and while this battle is significantly more terrifying for you to watch, he's torturing the demon as slowly and painfully as he possibly can with two main goals in mind.

Firstly, he’s making a point to the other creature, showing him that only he can lay eyes upon you, and only he can have and hold you.

And the other reason? Well, he can’t deny the way his heart races when you praise him for his power, telling him he’s so strong, I – I feel safe with you, Gyutaro…

He feels needed when he protects you, and so your best course of action is really to just let him baby you. Daki and you both might hate it, but Gyutaro needs to take care of you – he needs to hear you praise him and thank him for his hard work, and with every compliment that slips from your lips he only grows more and more obsessed. 

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Quite honestly, the likelihood of anyone else giving you the attention or time of day that Gyutaro is afraid of is extremely low.

The only people you’ll really ever see are himself and Daki; your lone companions for the rest of your life. Being kept hostage in Daki’s underground lair makes it very, very difficult for you to receive visitors, and unless you’re able to crawl at a steep upwards incline for miles through tunnels, you have very little hope of ever escaping. Consequently, the chances of you ever interacting with someone that could spark jealousy within Gyutaro while you’re under his thumb is very low.

But that’s the key part – while you’re under his thumb. He doesn’t act on his obsession very quickly, instead preferring to simply stalk you for months on end, watching and observing and letting his feelings fester, growing stronger and stronger until they eventually bubble over and he can’t not be with you at all hours of the day.

But that period of a few months between his feelings for you forming and when he eventually steals you away are wrought with jealousy and frustration on his end. He’s constantly, constantly paranoid that another man will come and sweep you off your feet, that you’ll fall head over heels for some lowly human man, that your heart will be stolen and possessed by some weak, pitiful human that doesn’t even deserve you.

(Not that he feels he deserves you either, but it’s different for Gyutaro – at least he can protect you, at least he can keep you safe. What can this man do? What could he possibly offer you, aside from perhaps a more pleasant face?)

He’s monumentally terrified of you ever finding someone else to love, the prospect of you leaving him behind, your feelings (whatever they may be) for him withering away into nothing while another man holds your attention and love being more painful to him than anything else he could ever imagine.

He doesn’t want to lose the feelings you give him, so he resigns himself to knowing he has to do something to stop all these men from potentially stealing you from him. He doesn’t like how weak this all makes him feel, the paranoia churning in his gut and forcing him to act in ways he'd never expected to, ways that disgust him, ways that embarrass him when Daki asks why the hell he seems to be going so far for some stupid human woman.

He’s never even totally sure himself, only guided by the knowledge that he has to keep you his, that he can never go back to his life before you wandered into it. All he knows is that when he hears your voice (so pretty and sweet, something he could listen to for hours if you’d let him) accompanied by a more masculine, male one, he’s seeing fucking red.

He’s never felt this angry before; Hashira have come and gone, made his sister cry and landed a few good hits on him, but he’s genuinely enraged in that moment, honestly livid at what’s happening right before him.

The idea that you could be talking to another man haunts him from that night forward, the jealousy brewing in his gut difficult to identify but horrible to harbor. Gyutaro gets jealous extremely easy during this time period between the formation of his feelings and eventually kidnapping you; he’s so terrified of another man grabbing your attention, and can he honestly be blamed?

He’s a monster, and his self esteem is so low that he’s sure every other living being on the planet is more attractive than him – so why would you ever choose him?

Gyutaro gets very, very angry when jealous.

He’s naturally quick to kill, but in the context of him being fearful of your attention wavering from him, he’s even more trigger happy. He’ll kill without a second thought, slashing at the heads of any man he thinks has even the merest idea of potentially pursuing you.

So when he’s coming back from a kill one night, with blood already staining his fingers and his stomach full, the last thing he expects to hear is your voice. He’d hated having to leave you alone; normally, he’s following you like a shadow, never more than a few feet behind you, following your every move and staying with you for hours on end.

You’ve never really noticed, as his skills of deception and hiding are high, and being this far away from you for a few hours has taken its toll on him. He’s exhausted, and every muscle in his body is taut and alert – ready to see you, to smell your now familiar scent and gaze at your beauty in whatever working kimono you were wearing this evening.

However, your voice brings him out of that reverie – you’re laughing. And so is the man you’re with. Immediately, Gyutaro’s face twists into an ugly scowl, his claws scratching at his cheeks and chest as he begins muttering under his breath, trying to pinpoint where the sound of your voices is coming from. He growls as he finally decides on the direction, before sprinting off, already arming himself with his sickles.

His shoulders are more hunched than usual when he lands on the balcony of the room you’re currently in, the man in question sitting across from you over a small table. Gyutaro’s eye twitches, his gaze raking over the man in question. He’s tall, he can tell; a brunette with soft hazel eyes, his physique decent underneath the black robes he wears. Immediately Gyutaro finds himself hating him even more – he looks rich, happy, handsome.

For a moment Gyutaro is frozen, simply watching the scene play out with wide, panicked eyes, his pulse racing dangerously, before the man’s reaching hand caressing yours over the table snaps him out of his daze. He growls lowly, charging into the room as quickly as he can and snatching the man into his arms, thrusting him outside and disappearing before you have a chance to register what just happened, everything happening in the blink of an eye.

As he runs through the crowded, loud backstreets of the Entertainment District out to somewhere more private where he can probably dispose of this scum, he hopes that he was fast enough that you didn’t catch a glimpse of him. He’d heard your confused calls of what he assumed to be the man’s name, but that only made him angrier, his steps faster and faster as he neared the woods.

Soon he’s surrounded by trees, their shade darkening his body, only allowing his eyes to illuminate. Gyutaro throws the man to the ground, the dirt of the forest surely staining his robes an ugly brown color. The man hacks as he touched the ground, the force knocking the air out of his lungs, but Gyutaro doesn’t wait.

No, instead he throws the man against a nearby tree with a scythe, the sound of cracking making a wide, gleeful smile cross his features. The man’s back is broken, surely, but it’s not enough.

You think you’re special, don’t you?

He warbles, eyes narrowing while the smile stays spread across his lips. The anger in his veins is so potent that it forces him to take staggering steps, his mind too hyper focused on killing this man to walk properly.

You think you can have any woman you want, don’t you?

The man gasps something, though his body isn’t moving from where the scythe has him pinned against the bark.

Gyutaro spits at him, a glob of saliva landing on the man’s cheek.

I may be the repulsive one, but you’re pretty pathetic too, huh? Letting someone as ugly as me kill and devour you…

Gyutaro cuts himself off with a giggle, his fingers once again coming up to scratch at his face and neck.

Then I’ll make you suffer… you’ll watch as I feast on your flesh.

And with that he charges forward, his fingers wrapping around the man’s forearm and pulling, hard, the resounding sound of tearing flesh making him grin. As he brings the severed arm up to his mouth, blood streaming down his arm, Gyutaro can only shake, the thought of eating the man that dared touch you and steal your attention making a strange sort of euphoria dance through his veins. Not a piece of the man is left by the time Gyutaro is done an hour later, his stomach sated as he scowls down at the bloodstains left by the stranger.

(He’d paid special attention to truly savor and enjoy the hand that had touched you – licking at the skin, a moan tumbling from his lips because this is the closest he’s ever gotten to touching you himself, and even if it was the disgusting man’s arm, the experience was still intimate, sweet, enough to force him to have to lean against the nearest tree so as not to fall to his knees when they buckle.)

He spits once more at the ground, cursing the human, before sprinting off to the room you’d been in, hoping with everything he has that you’d still be there.

Maybe he could watch you for a while; you always looked prettiest when you were unaware, and maybe you’d even fall asleep so he could come closer, so he could smell you, touch you ever so lightly, listen to the way your heartbeat beats again, and again, and again…

The rage subsides slowly as he places himself outside the window of your home in the House, his harsh breathing slowly returning to normal, until a light pink flush coats his cheek and he coos your name, wishing you’d turn around and smile at him, that you’d cup his face and tell him I love you Gyutaro, no one but you.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Because Gyutaro’s feelings for you take a while to accumulate (mostly through watching you while he’s dormant inside of Daki, or stalking you from the shadows as he grows more and more fascinated with you), he’ll slowly come to the conclusion that you can’t be left alone.

He discovers he fucking hates not having you next to him; you’re the one thing he looks forward to every day.

Seeing your smile ignites this odd sense of happiness inside his chest, a feeling he’s not sure he’s ever experienced before.

His fingers shake when he’s around you; nerves eating him alive, because as desperately as he wants you to give him attention, he’s also terrified you’ll find yourself repulsed by him, that he’ll do something that causes you to hate him or be afraid of him.

He needs your focus on him, but he’s just so, so scared that you’ll reject him – which, in combination with his jealousy, leads Gyutaro to an odd dilemma.

On the one hand, he always, always wants your presence near him – you’re like his drug, the one he’s hopelessly and happily addicted to, and to be without you would mean death to both the small grains of humanity still within him, and any sense of self he possesses.

And on the other hand, he’s terrified that you’ll find someone better than him, that you’ll replace him and leave him in the dust behind you, heartbroken and enraged that you’re gone.

And so, he does the only thing he can think to do – if he’s afraid of losing you and your gorgeous, bright smile aimed at him, then taking you before you can leave is the only solution.

He’s not particularly regretful about stealing you away from your life; you didn’t love the world you were in, he knows that. He knows that despite now being stuck with a grotesque monster, you’re in a better place now.

Because despite his flaws (both internally and externally), the one thing that Gyutaro can do better than any other man on Earth is protect you. He’s strong, capable, destructive, and thoroughly able to take care of you.

Thus, don’t you belong fully under his protection, where the world can get at you (and you can’t get at it)?

Gyutaro believes so, and stealing you away not only keeps other men away from you, but now you’re fully his. Daki’s lair is empty most of the time anyways, and maybe in the dimness you won’t see Gyutaro very clearly.

Maybe then the compliments that come from your lips will feel more real – and maybe then, Gyutaro can will himself to believe that you mean it when you say you don’t think he’s ugly, simply special. 

Of course, Gyutaro is a demon. He’s by no means an ideal captor – he’s only marginally aware of what humans need in order to survive, and despite his intense devotion to you, he’s not fully changing his personality just because of your presence.

He becomes much softer around you; less harsh around the edges, more like a nervous teenage boy because fuck does he want to impress you.

He doesn’t want you to be disappointed in him, so he tries his absolute best to keep you comfortable and happy, though he isn’t always successful. He doesn’t fully understand that insects and scraps of food from various shops in the district aren’t your preferred meal, but don’t mention it to him. He doesn’t realize that the one kimono he’d stolen you away in has grown to be caked in mud and dirt since you’ve been ‘living’ in this lair of his, but you won’t say anything out of fear that the alternative is wearing nothing.

Don’t ever say anything even somewhat negative to him about his actions; he’s extremely sensitive, and one small critique of him in any way has him caving in on himself, scratching at every inch of his skin as warbles away about how you don’t love him, you’re lying to him, how he knew there was no way you could love such a disgusting monster.

 He’ll close himself off, the anger and hurt making his head spin, and after a long few minutes of him wallowing in his self pity, he’s suddenly up, staring at you with wide yellow eyes and a tear or two, his hands shaking as he lunges at you.

However, while he’s somewhat stand-offish at the start of your captivity, he slowly warms up to you.

Mostly, he’s just terrified that you’ll confirm all of the insecurities he possesses; he’d die if you were to call him ugly, his heart cracking into a million little pieces while tears well in his eyes and his lips spread into an ugly sneer, bitterly telling you he knew it, I knew a spoiled whore like you could never love a monster like me.

Of course, you know well enough not to do that (you’ve seen Daki and him smeared with blood too many times to fear how they’d deal with your resistance), but the fear is very present in his heart.

He’s always nervous you’ll turn back on your compliments, that your sweet words and touches are born out of trying to trick him into being falsely secure, then tearing the rug out from under him, leaving him a shell of what’s left of himself.

However, as you don’t morph into the monster he secretly half-hopes you’ll become, Gyutaro slowly grows more trusting of you, more believing of your kind words.

He starts touching you softly – his fingers brushing over your skin, over the fabric of your kimonos. He’ll throw an occasional smile at you under the guise of being teasing, though despite the stinging, rude comment he likely uttered, the quirk of his lips looks strangely genuine.

Eventually, he’ll allow himself to hug you, your softer body against his making his knees feel weak, his heart leaping up to his throat.

And as his physicality grows more lenient with you, as do his words – instead of only teasing, crude remarks made towards you, he slowly begins complimenting you as well. He’s used to hiding behind his mean words as a defense mechanism, but when you’re looking up at him with your watery, scared eyes, how can he call you a pathetic excuse for a human?

You’re beautiful; every imperfection and blemish on your body is gorgeous to him, and how could he ever make you feel terrible about yourself?

And so, instead of telling you that you’re really pretty sad, you know? Laying on the ground scared like a worm, a poor excuse he’ll instead say you have some dirt on your cheek, you’re so messy.

It’s not that much better, but as time passes his words slowly grow less harsh and more appreciative, until he’s pulling you close one night and whispering into your ear that he thinks he loves you, that he needs you, don’t ever leave me alone, I can’t live without you.

Aside from the way he acts around you, your living conditions will be painfully unchanging. You’ve been relocated to Daki’s lair, deep underground. A few lamps were brought in by Gyutaro so that you could see, the warm light making you feel slightly better as the chill of underground seeps into your bones.

He’s collected a number of human items for you in an attempt to get you feeling more at home; a collection of blankets sits at the end of your futon, a makeshift pillow sitting on the other end. A few novels have been delivered to you, and while you’re not a particular fan of any of the genres present, you’ve read them cover to cover more times than you can count during your time with Gyutaro.

He brings you human foods (though they’re marginally considered food), and he’s placed an instrument he stole from the House down there as well, as entertainment for when he can’t be with you.

(When he’d brought the instrument, he’d set it down in front of you and scampered back, his shoulders hunched in slightly, nervously glancing at you as you appraised his gift, his heart racing wildly because do you like it? Are you happy he thought of you and stole this for you? Are you appreciative? Will you give him a kiss as a thank you?)

Daki is hardly ever around, and while her belt can be annoying when it speaks, a quick conversation with Gyutaro about not bothering you had Daki reluctantly relenting to keeping her belt mute, only furthering her irritation with you.

Gyutaro is always in the lair with you unless he’s directly needed by Daki, or to feed. As such, you’d better be prepared to constantly be stared at, watched, poked and prodded, your sleeping body waking up to a different position than the one you fell asleep in, nail marks still imprinted on your skin.

Gyutaro just really, really likes having you in close contact, and while he knows you likely aren’t extremely pleased by your forced relocation, isn’t this better?

Because now you’re safe – with him, where he can keep every man and demon away from you, keeping you selfishly all for him. 

PUNISHMENTS:

As a captor, Gyutaro is a delicate balance of gentleness and abrasiveness.

Of course, he’s a demon. He’s naturally violent, crunching human flesh between his teeth often, and the strength in just his pinky is more than every muscle in your body combined.

And as a demon, his temper is rocky, at best. He’s extremely temperamental, and it takes little to nothing to set off his anger.

When it comes to you, he’s marginally more in control, but for the most part you need to exercise extreme caution once you’re in his captivity.

Gyutaro isn’t the best communicator, which often times lands you in the unfortunate position of having to guess what makes him mad; you’ve built a list as time goes on, mentally noting any time he seems to get agitated, when he starts scratching more at his neck or his voice gets tight and curt. The list is vivid in your mind, something you diligently avoid bringing up in conversation or doing, if only because you’re still terrified that one day it’ll be your blood staining his teeth or splattered across the metal of those scythes he carries.

And the list is long – he’s easy to set off, whether it’s from mentioning the name of another man, or even just slightly flinching when his hands begin travelling all over your body, his breath ragged and deep.

But you’ve found, through experience, that there are three things he tolerates the worst, one of which being any mention of your past life before meeting him and Daki.

It’s not that he’s not interested in knowing about your hobbies and the people you knew (and, frankly, all that stalking makes you having any habits he’s not aware of extremely unlikely), but rather that he gest so, so jealous when you talk about former friends or important people in your life.

It pisses him off to hear you talk so familiarly about anyone that isn’t him, and each jealous thought is immediately followed up by worries about what they do better than him, if they’re more attractive (he’s sure they are), and just how much better than him they must be.

He’ll also get upset if you mention anything about wanting to escape or leave the lair. He takes it as a sign that you’re not happy here, with him, that you don’t think he’s doing a good enough job of taking care of you.

And lastly, while he knows you’re stuck with a demon like him and are understandably terrified, he doesn’t tolerate your nervous twitches and flinches when he comes near you, or your hurtful words insulting him in any way.

He views it as you rejecting him and his presence, and that’s a sure fire way to find letting a deep scowl settle across his features, his fingers tugging at his hair while he runs off to find some human to kill and feast upon to release his anger.

It’s easy to set him off, yes, but while Gyutaro is by no means gentle, he won’t often actually physically harm you.

He might, potentially, begrudgingly, to prove a point, but the worst he’ll do is break an arm or a finger, something to scare you but not actually threaten your life. And even then, this will take a huge amount of anger on his part to actually follow through on. He’s still hesitant to hurt you in any way, too afraid he’ll accidentally lose control of his strength and kill you, and so frankly these situations are often just as painful for him as it is you.

He avoids these physical punishments, though, unless he absolutely has no other choice – but as a general rule, a twisted arm or swollen joint isn’t the repercussions that await you when you anger him.

No, instead Gyutaro does something much worse – his punishments aren’t planned, purely emotional outbursts that end up warping your view of him, damaging your perception of reality until you’re so unsure of how you real feel or what he really is that you’ll blindly cling to him, the Stockholm Syndrome festering and growing until you become just as dependent on him as he is you.

Generally, any negative comments towards him set him off, but any comments specifically referencing his appearance will bring out a very specific type of rage, and this particular brand of anger is very, very scary.

What makes it so dangerous is that Gyutaro is not only pissed, angry, livid, he’s also incredibly hurt. He hates allowing himself to believe your kind compliments and words, but every once in a while he’ll let them settle in, letting hope bloom in his chest that maybe you mean it.

(He’ll delude himself into believing that you really like his eyes, or that you think his facial birthmarks are endearing, that you aren’t just saying that so he won’t kill you. And it makes him feel good, a sense of belonging and bashfulness making him struggle to meet your gaze and instead tug at your kimono and ask you to say it again and again and again, committing the sound of such sweet words coming from your lips to his memory.)

And the main reason for his anger when you lash out and call him hideous is because he should have known.

It’s a slap in the face – how could he have allowed himself to be so foolish and naïve? How could he have allowed himself to get comfortable, to forget his cursed appearance, to forget that he’s a monster in every sense of the word?

He’s frustrated at himself for not seeing this coming; there’s no way you’d ever like someone like him, and it was stupid of him to even entertain the notion that you don’t see him as a grotesque, terrifying predator.

And so, as the words slip past your lips, he’s immediately freezing, his shoulders going slack and his jaw hanging open slightly. Don’t touch me, you monster!

The lair is eerily silent for a few moments, your words processing in his mind as he stares at you, the only sound filling your ears being your own heavy, nervous breaths.

But soon a small, nearly breathless giggle echoes in your ears, the sound making you suck in a sharp breath. The chuckle soon turns into quiet laughter, rising in pitch and volume until Gyutaro is cackling, his voice cracking and hiccupping as his eyes go wide, his hands scratching welts so deeply into his sides that it almost concerns you.

His whole body is shaking, shoulders violently jumping up and down at the force of his maniacal laughter, but eventually it subsides, his hair hanging forward to cover his face.

Do you think that I’m a monster? You think I’m a freak, huh?

His voice is more unsteady than normal, you note with a sense of fear. He tilts his head up slightly, peeking at you from underneath his bangs, his lips pulled into some mixture of a grimace and a grin, the sight making a shiver crawl down your spine. It’s only now that you notice his eyes are red rimmed, his cheeks wet, as if he’d been laughing so hard he was crying – or, perhaps, he really was crying.

Huh? Answer me, dammit!

He’s screaming now, the grimace getting tighter. He takes a step forward, and you shuffle backwards, scooting the backside of your kimono across the dirt as you shuffle back against the wall, trying to get as much space between the two of you as possible.

Answer me, you bitch!

You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper out a n-no, but that only makes him angrier, taking another step forward, the sound of his foot crunching against the dirt making you sob.

You’re a liar! A filthy, disgusting liar!

His words hurt, though you can’t explain why. They make you flinch, your hands balling into fists as you bring your knees up to your chest, trying to become as small as possible as he takes another few steps towards you.

You’re nothing without me! He’s screeching now, his voice unbareably high, raw emotion shining through as the words start tumbling from his lips. You’d be dead without me! Imagine that? Something as beautiful as you needing a monster like me to keep you from getting devoured by some demon or some human. You’re pathetic, are you ashamed of yourself?

You’re crying now, fat, ugly tears streaming down your cheeks, but he’s too blinded by his rage to notice.

Does it make you feel good to think you’re better than me? Does it make you feel important? You’re a liar! How dare you do this? How dare you lie to me and tell me that you love me, when you just think I’m ugly and horrible!

His voice is close now, too close, and as you peel open your watery eyes, you see his own yellow ones mere inches from your face. His teeth are bared, every muscle in his neck and chest flexing as he struggles to stop himself from reaching out and clawing at your face, destroying your face until he can no longer recognize you.

You’re speaking before you can help yourself, fear and panic and a cold, gripping sense of regret climbing into your throat.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I don’t think you’re a monster, I’m just – I’m just scared Gyutaro! I’m scared of how you make me feel! I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me, please…

You cut yourself off with a sob, fingers digging into your palms, and as you close your eyes and wait for something to happen, all you’ll be met with is the sound of a gulp, his breath still huffing against your skin. It’s silent for a few moments, before you brave a peek to look at him.

His eyes are wide, the yellow bright and still tinged with red as he stares at you. His chest is heaving, breaths falling heavily, and he’s biting his lip. Blood wells up against the wound, but he doesn’t seem to notice. No, he’s staring too intensely at you to notice anything.

Scared of how I make you feel? He questions, moving a few centimeters closer to you.

You nod shakily, swallowing down as much fear as you can manage as you whisper out that he makes you feel wanted, in a way I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know how to deal with that. I want to hate you, but I can’t.

He makes a sound then, like a wounded puppy, deep in his throat as his brows quirk up. Something in his stomach twists, a pleasant feeling settling at the base of his ribs.

You can’t hate me? You can’t despise me?

You nod, biting your lip, and Gyutaro stares at you for a few moments, before his arms are suddenly wrapping around your waist, his body closing the distance as he pins you against the wall, his face buried into your neck and his waist worming its way between your thighs.

You love me, you love me.

He’s chanting against your chin, a bit of his saliva getting onto your neck. His grip on you is tight, soffucating even, making it difficult to breath. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, and with a small, unsure swallow, you try your best to rub at any skin of his that’s available, soft petting motions that make another little whimper muffle against you.

You love me you love me you love me you love me –

It’s a mantra, like he’s trying to convince himself, but as he spends a good forty minutes repeating this to himself, keeping you trapped in his arms against the dirt wall, you’ll find yourself wondering if he’s really even lying – do you love him?

You hadn’t been lying when you said you aren’t able to hate him. He’s a monster and has killed countless people, kidnapped you, keeping you locked up and always touching you and forcing you to look at him, but do you love him?

Maybe you do, because as you find yourself relaxing into his arms, finding comfort in the feeling of his hot warm breath against your skin, you almost feel at ease. Maybe it’s survival instincts, maybe it’s something else – it doesn’t matter though, does it?

Because you’re stuck with him, and he’ll never, ever let you go.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

Gyutaro is less dangerous to you and more dangerous to those around you.

He’s by all accounts shy in the beginning of his obsession with you – stalking you relentlessly from the shadows, watching and waiting and never leaving your side for even a moment, content to simply see you as you smile and sleep and live your life.

He won’t ever hurt you – at least, not often – and in fact protects you to a fanatical degree, but the same can’t be said for the other people in your life.

He’s very, very willing to eliminate anyone he deems as competition for your attention and love, enjoying devouring them and ending their miserable lives in the most painful, drawn-out way possible. He views himself as your protector, watching from the shadows and acting as your twisted guardian angel, until suddenly it’s not enough – he needs more.

He needs to have you looking at him, acknowledging him, your pretty voice saying his name and your soft hands on his calloused, rough skin.

He needs to have you fall asleep in his arms, your breathing even and steady and so very precarious, your unaware and vulnerable state making him lick his lips and slowly, carefully, timidly press a clumsy kiss against your lips, immediately pulling back with pink tinged cheeks because oh, he wasn’t expecting your lips to be so soft and warm.

If you can look past the kidnapping, murder and invasions of your privacy, Gyutaro is honestly not the worst – he’s temperamental and difficult to handle with all of his triggers, but if you can find yourself balancing and managing to placate him, life with him won’t be too terrible.

He'll care for you as best as he knows how, keep you company whenever he can, drown you in physical affection once he musters up the courage, and over time his harsh comments will eventually morph into honest, genuine compliments about things so specific that you’ll feel seen, understood, perhaps even loved.

 Because while Gyutaro may be rough around the edges and difficult to understand, he really does love you in some twisted, fucked up way – and if you’re to be stuck with him for the rest of your life, isn’t it better that you accept it?

Wouldn’t it just be easier for both of you to let him hold you, to whisper to him that you’re happy with him?

Just accept your fate – you’ll be much, much happier that way. 

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ a shot of lust ]❜

ft. claude clawmark x f! reader — ttt, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ while testing out potions, you take an experimental sip gone wrong & your friend isn’t half as innocent as he seems┊2.2k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub claude┊slight dubcon, reader is mean but claude is into that, unintentional (high-key nonconsensual) drugging with an aphrodisiac, kinda unrequited feelings but requited lust, making out, marking & biting, slight masochist claude, spit as lube, degradation, unprotected piv on a chair (because you guys are nasty like that), implied multiple rounds

➤ author's note: oh my god, i’ve been starving you guys again, i’m so sorry, i’ve been hit full force with squid game brainrot. this isn’t my best work, but i’m slowly getting back into niji because it’s my first vtuber family and i miss them :( 

potion-making is a refined art that is desirable to all with its effectiveness in battle or healing properties yet mastered by few with how dangerous or explosive results could be with something simple as an extra drop of dragon’s blood becoming fatal. personally, you’re willing to take the risk of the deadly consequences when it comes to elixirs of speed to slay your opponents before they could even blink.

for these very reasons, you study the craft under your fellow adventurer and close confidant claude clawmark. admittedly, he wasn’t your first choice regarding mentors with his messy workspace and questionable habits, but he was willing to teach you for free so you agreed. even victoria and kunai were unsure of your decision but figured that if anyone could handle the eccentric cleric, it would be you. even though this was something you took upon yourself to learn, you really didn’t like being cooped up in his shop all day while taking orders from customers and spending all day mixing strange components. you miss going out and looting dungeons with your guildmates, but learning through experience would certainly be worth it in the amount of gold you could save by making your own potions (people really pay for the expertise of a professional rather than the collected common loot dropped to make them).

the wooden table in the center of the room had a batch of roughly fifteen glass vials filled with strength potions for a customer, a finished half of the order while working on producing the other half of invisibility. you placed a sealed jar of fermented spider eyes on the table for your partner to brew and went to go grab some night vision potions for the base, but you noticed an odd bottle filled with a shimmering pink liquid that stood out among the batch of dully-colored royal blue potions on the self. it clearly wasn’t organized on the right shelf, but it didn’t have a label nor did its appearance match any of the others. “hey claude, do you remember what this is supposed to be?”

he turned his head to examine it for a second before continuing his work, “eh, i’m not actually sure. maybe you should test it out.”

oh yeah, another thing about potions is that if you aren’t sure what it is, you have to try it out yourself. there are tons of healing medicines all over the place in case someone got poisoned, so you drank it without hesitation like you’ve done plenty of times before. it tasted artificially of strawberries and cream, not an uncommon flavor to mask the usual strange medley of ingredients, but it left a weird aftertaste of bittersweetness on your tongue. you didn’t feel any different nor see any change looking in the mirror so perhaps it was simply a base potion that didn’t have any magic added yet, leaving you to go on with your day after placing the empty glass into the sink.

it didn’t hit you full-force as soon as you swallowed it, but the effects were slowly but surely taking hold of you. it started with you feeling warm, taking off your jacket and touching your face, wondering if there was a sudden change in room temperature for some reason. your breathing steadily became more labored even though you weren’t moving around much, trying to take deep breaths through your mouth in a futile attempt to clear your fogged mind and soaking a towel in water to pat away the perspiration beginning to form on your forehead.

were you ill and coming down with a fever? it didn’t feel like any virus you’ve ever had, felt more like… it was definitely from that unlabeled potion you drank earlier, but why would he leave such a thing lying around if it was really what you thought? this was really why you were warned to get a proper tutor instead of a cleric known for fumbling his belongings. the sun had begun to set and the shop would close in about fifteen minutes anyway, so you decided to wait it out even though it felt borderline unbearable. leaning back on the table, you think there must be an antidote or something somewhere to counter it, but you were interrupted before you could get up and look for it.

“are you okay? you look sick,” claude mentioned, taking off his tool belt equipped with various gadgets and moving away from his station to check in on you. “do you… need help with anything?” he took off his glove to gently press his hand against your forehead followed by your cheek to test your temperature, suddenly feeling conscious of his presence with the proximity and feeling his breath on your skin as he stared intently at your face.

you never paid too much attention to his looks, but you suddenly found yourself studying his appearance now that he was so much closer to you: his long opalescent locks that were neatly tied in a ponytail tossed over his shoulder, his sleepy eyes that shifted from magenta to aquamarine, how built he actually was with his broad shoulders that well defined his frame— was he always so handsome?

“hey… claude…” you felt like a living furnace with lit coals that were bursting at the seams, fire burning into desire at your core and could only be quenched by the man standing in front of you. vivi and kunai aren’t the best at keeping secrets (especially when it’s past midnight at a sleepover), you knew he had a crush on you or at the very least found you attractive. either way, he wouldn’t reject you at the moment unless he considers the friendship on the line, and you were willing to bet everything on that.

his eyes met yours, staring deeply into them while waiting for you to finish your sentence. the tension was so palpable that it could be cut with a knife and you sighed, closing your eyes and leaning forward to break it with a kiss. you couldn’t see his reaction, but he didn’t flinch nor did he pull back, instead reciprocating it once he seemed to process it.

it took some of the edge off, but you still felt insatiable and starved for more of him. slipping your hand to the back of his head and intertwining it with his hair, you deepened the kiss and began to dart your tongue out to ask him to part his lips. you had no way to know what he was really thinking, but he seemed to be understandably confused about the whole thing and yet he didn’t deny you or offer an ounce of resistance. he obediently followed your motions and let you take the lead, just how you liked it, even whimpering slightly when your tongue gently brushed against his and felt the cool titanium pierced through it.

oh, when you heard that sound escape his lips, something feral awakened within you. “fuck…” you placed your hands on her shoulder and swung him around, roughly shoving him down onto a nearby chair and splitting his legs apart with a knee in the middle while continuing to kiss him roughly. fiddling with the hem of his clothing, “is this okay?”

he blushed a deep red as if the gravity of the situation was only hitting him now that you were requesting for content, “y-yes! of course! totally!” he mentally cringed, his ass did not just say ‘totally’ when his crush of over a year was asking if it was okay to fuck him.

thankfully for him, you didn’t seem to mind in the least bit and fervently began to strip him of his clothing, pulling his black top over his arms and tossing it haphazardly on the floor. his strapping frame was even more evident with his bare chest exposed to you, pretty unblemished ivory skin that was just begging to get marked up and bruised. you were quick to leave one last kiss on his lips before lowering your head to suck on his neck, watching a dark purple-red hickey bloom on the spot. you repeated this process a few times before outright sinking your teeth into his tender flesh, finding yourself unable to refrain from behaving like a wild animal even though you were trying your hardest to hold yourself back. 

meanwhile, claude felt like he was dreaming and was almost light-headed by your touch. he allowed you to use his body as you pleased, like a doll for you to play with and abuse. the pain didn’t even register as such to him, feeling more like ecstasy shooting through his veins wherever your mouth found itself as his eyes rolled back like the pathetic fool he was.

“fuck, i feel like i’m going crazy,” you groaned, adjusting your position to sit on his lap and pulling back his pristine white pants to reveal his leaking cock before holding out your palm. “spit.” he complied, taking a moment to gather saliva in his mouth before spitting a clear glob into your open hand which you smeared all over his dick to act as makeshift lube.

the heat was really beginning to get to you like the wrath of a thousand suns, prickling at your skin and causing you to pause your actions to remove your own clothing. you didn’t notice until you were fully nude the way he was staring at you like he had just witnessed the unfiltered beauty of a goddess for the first time. maybe if it was another day under different circumstances, you would have felt soft at his obvious affection and admiration towards you, but unfortunately, you were feeling nothing but irritation due to the effects of the drug.

you extended an arm to push him back so he was sitting properly against the chair instead of slouching, moving to straddle him and finally, finally, lined up his angry red tip with your entrance before sinking into it. claude gasped as he buried his face into your chest, unable to rut into you as he so desired with your purposefully straining your weight on him. 

despite not being able to think straight, your dominance over him was made clear as you set your own pace, ignoring the strain beginning to form in your thighs as you worked your way up and down his length. his size was perfect, not too difficult to take, and also able to hit all of the right spots.

despite not being allowed to put in any work, claude’s heart was hammering in his chest like he was running a marathon with strands of hair sticking to his face thanks to the beads of sweat that formed on his forehead. he struggled to find a place to put his hands with your hips moving too fast for him to grip and the little groan you would let out in the precipice of pleasure and disdain each time he tried to touch you elsewhere led to him simply gripping the sides of the wooden chair he was seated on, basically hold on for dear life while chasing an orgasm to snap you out it. 

“you did this on purpose, didn’t you, you little freak?”

“h-huh?”

“you wanted me to drink that potion, didn’t you? so that you would get fucked like a whore, just how desperate are you?”

he opened his mouth to deny the accusation but found himself unable to and let out a pathetic whimper instead. how could he deny it when it was completely true? he didn’t think you would actually drink it, only planted it on the table and allowed for chance to take the reins, but he didn’t think anything was actually going to happen.

still, there wasn’t a single ounce of regret in his body, even if you were being a little mean to him. he didn’t mind how your sharp words cut into him, it made him dizzy if anything. 

you began to slow down as the ache of constant bouncing was catching up to you, moving your hand to circle your clit and crying out when you felt yourself unravel at the contact. feeling your velvety walls pulse around him had him following shortly after when you lifted yourself off of him, causing him to finish on your lower stomach in pretty white splatters.

both of you were exhausted at the exhibition of energy on top of the long day before this situation occurred, breathing heavily as you got off the chair in favor of leaning against the table with your shaky legs. 

he couldn’t read your reaction, if the gravity of what just happened had sunk in yet or if you were still basking in the satisfaction of your climax. it made you glow in a way, making him dumbfounded and unable to meet your eyes. “i-i should go…” in a matter of minutes thanks to his stupidity, he just went from a good friend to a lowly slut in your eyes all because you were able to see right through him like glass.

however, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back towards you, nude bodies pressed flushed against each other, kissing him fervently again with a slightly crazy edge to your actions. “yeah, no, you aren’t going anywhere. you started this mess, you’re going to help me out until the potion wears off or until we both pass out.”

[noirsdoll]

-> on the edge

pairing: leon x kidnapper!reader

words: 2.7k

tags: dubcon, vomit, implied drugging/roofieing, boobjob/blowjob, nonconsensual knifeplay and bondage, tiny bulimia reference (as a joke), mentions of drug use (from leon), reader is a femcel, leon is a perv and loves tits, reader threatens to kill leon several times

notes: sorry for being dead... this is the funniest thing i've ever written LMAO (which is like, rlly lame and rlly funny in its own right) yeah i was just like "how would og4 leon react if he got kidnapped?" and it devolved to "shy femcel pukes on dick" so yeah enter at your own risk LMAO um everything is a joke kinda mostly yeah

read it on ao3

Note to self— do not share needles. 

It’s the first thought on Leon’s mind when he wakes up to the blinding fluorescents of wherever the fuck he is. An acrid stench hits his nose and makes him grimace, one he’s all too familiar with. The smell of vomit— his vomit, crusted down the front of his shirt like a baby who just spit up. 

Leon tastes blood in his mouth— is a tooth loose? He feels one wiggle, searching with his tongue as he takes in his surroundings, or rather lack thereof. 

He’s been in these situations before, it’s nothing new for an esteemed government agent like him. Flash a badge here, a charming smile there, and they’ll usually ignore the illicit drug use. Perks of being the president’s fucktoy, he might as well ask them to stamp his punch card. 

But this isn’t an interrogation room, or a house that he recognizes, or anywhere remotely discernible. Just four walls, a cement floor, and one rickety swinging bulb. 

Leon goes to stand up from the cold floor and realizes he’s cuffed to the radiator behind him. What in the…? He tugs his arm once, twice, but this isn’t one of those gag handcuffs that comes off with a safe word. 

Did he get fucking kidnapped?

There’s no way anyone would wanna do that. He’s just blond, kinda tall, ridiculously handsome— okay, he’s kinda starting to get it. But spiking his drink? What is he, a teenage girl?

Leon’s pretty sure he got roofied, cuz his puke smells suspiciously like the cheap beer he was touting at the dive bar last night. Running through the list of faces he remembers— cute girl, buff dude, gorgeous pair of tits— he’s not sure if any of them would be the type to slip a pill in his drink. 

His thoughts are graciously answered, however, when the door opens and you come into vision. 

“Ah, you’re the one with the rack,” he says, the thrilling conclusion to the mystery. 

You prickle, staring at him. “What?”

“I’m flattered, sweetheart, but you really could’ve just asked me out. I’m not easy, but I’m open to a little begging—“

The sound of your switchblade cuts him off and Leon’s heart drops to his ass. “What are you doing?” He asks.

You walk toward him, kneeling down. You’ve got this thousand-yard stare that is not helping the butter face— and the knife too, he supposes. 

Dragging the blunt end of the blade along his cheek, your gaze flits from the metal to his eyes. “Got any last words?”

Leon chuckles uneasily. “Is this supposed to be like roleplay…?”

Your eyes widen and you glance at his dick and then back up. “Are you enjoying this?”

“I mean, I’m open to anything.” And by anything, he means his dick between your tits. How are they so big? “I dunno why you wanna do this while I smell like vomit.”

“Can’t handle your liquor?”

“Can you see your shoes when you put them on?” He blurts. 

“Are you calling me fat?” You ask in indignation. 

“I’m just wondering, considering the partition in the way.”

You slap him. Deserved, he thinks. You didn’t stick your knife in his chest though, so you’re not really mad. You’re just a bit stubborn— most ugly girls like you are. What kinda freak accident messed your face up like that? Is it hereditary? Will he catch it?

Leon can weasel his way out of this one if he tries. “That was a compliment. sweetheart. I’m just a little creative.”

“Don’t call me that.” You raise your knife, pursing his cheeks to force his mouth open. “I’ll cut your tongue out if you do.”

“What would you prefer? I’ve got a list.”

“You’ve got a death wish, is more like it.” You scowl. “You’re not scared?”

“Very little scares me, honey.” Leon’s seen the human body torn up a hundred different ways. He could teach biology, but he’d be bad with remembering all the names. He’s good with tits though, your tits to be specific. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you dead.”

“You got a vendetta against me or something?”

“Not you.” You say it like it’s obvious. “Your kind.”

“So you’re what, reverse Hitler?”

You don’t answer, instead trailing your knife along his tongue in warning, spit drools down his chin and makes him feel grosser— he was just getting used to the vomit too. “You’re insufferable.”

“Don’t need to kill me for it though,” he says once you’ve pulled the blade away. The metal and the fresh blood leaves a film of iron coating his mouth. It’s not as painful as it is disconcerting. “Is the dry spell getting to you?”

The way you stiffen up gives you away almost immediately. Women are so easy. “That’s none of your business,” you huff, actively making it his business.

“I can help with that, you know.” Leon’s got a lot to offer. Boil him down and he’s just a set of pearly whites with a couple of loose holes and a mostly functioning dick. “You’re pretty cute.”

You scoff. “Guys like you will say anything. I know your type.”

“Which is why you have it out for my phenotype. I get it.” Leon really doesn’t, but every serial killer needs a quirk and the list of available ones gets shorter every day. “But there are exceptions to every rule. Not all blond guys are assholes.”

“You are.”

“I’m a gentleman.” He leans back against the radiator, spreading his legs to allow you more space between them where you’re nestled. “I know how to treat a girl like you.”

“You don’t talk to girls like me.”

He has to hold back a laugh. You’re a fucking femcel. Tits like that and you’re a femcel. What has this world come to? “Have you looked in a mirror?” 

“I know I’m ugly.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about those.” Leon gestures to your chest with a nod. “You’re telling me no one’s offered to put a bag over your head and fuck you?”

You frown, “yeah, but it’s really fucking rude.”

“Women, you’re all so picky. If I was in your position, I’d take it.”

You slap him again– maybe he should keep a tally. Your eyes are tearing up, making the homicidal girl angry is definitely the wrong move.

“Hey, hey, I’m joking, okay?” Only sort of joking. It was more like a Freudian slip if he’s being honest. “Don’t cry.” It makes you look worse.

“Shut up or I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you grit.

The reason you’ve gone unfucked might not just be the face, you don’t seem to be mentally well either— no shit, you’re threatening him with a knife. “Relax, relax, alright? I was just trying to ask you if you, you know, wanted to do it.”

That seems to distract you. You stare at him for a moment, mentally debating it. “Would you actually do it?” You ask softly. Leon’s right again— all that anger when you’re just an insecure, unloved little girl.

“I’ve been trying to these last ten minutes, if you haven’t noticed.” Boobjob, here he comes.

“And you’re not just doing it because of this?” You gesture to your knife.

Yeah, obviously. “No, of course not,” he smiles, “back at that bar last night—”

“That was three days ago.”

“Whatever. Anyways, I was gonna talk to you. Swear it.” He holds up his cuffed hand like he’s swearing on a bible, knowing full well he’s been excommunicated from the church since his first line of coke.

You lean in closer, lowering your voice to a whisper. “So you’d kiss me?”

“I can do anything you want, baby,” he grins. 

You smile back, shakily, like you don’t know how. “If you try anything, I’ll kill you.”

Leon knows you won’t. He’s already got you. “Lay some on me, sugar.”

Tentatively, you kiss him, feeling him up, ignoring the puke stains. You’ve clearly never done this before– the shaky slide of your lips gives you away. And everything else too, he guesses. He was hoping you’d at least have some experience making out with a dildo.

Leon pulls back, resting against the radiator. “Hey, hey, relax, okay?” He tilts his head to meet your downcast eyes. “I’m not in a position to judge, y’know.”

You swallow, nodding. “Yeah, I know. We should probably just… cut to the chase.”

Leon can assume what the chase is, because you go straight for his worn jeans. Pulling down that and his underwear grants you the sight of his pathetic semi. He was really trying, okay? Your tits can only do so much to balance out that face.

You grimace. “That’s what a dick looks like?”

He’d probably slap you back if he wasn’t restrained. “Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you?” You’re the one that robbed him of his nightly Viagra.

Leon shifts his hips. “You ever sucked dick before?” He knows you haven’t, he just wants to see your reaction.

Your eyes widen, you glance down and then up and then down again. “I have to?”

He nods earnestly. “It’s the only way.” This is payback for locking him down here.

“Okay…” You move your hair out of the way, sinking lower. It’s an awkward position— your ass is in the air and you’re hunched down on your elbows. Leon can only spread his legs so far, even with all the practice he’s gotten. The knife lays somewhere out of sight— forgotten, hopefully.

“It’s like a popsicle,” he says, “or a lollipop.” Whichever calms you down more. He can recognize first-time jitters when he sees it.

You grab the base with one hand and glancing up at him, pop the head past your lips. The whole thing is unintentionally lewd, you just want to see his approval, but Leon’s lips still part in half surprise. At least the wet heat of your mouth is decent. Not as good as your tits might be.

In a bit, he promises himself. Leon’s a patient man, he’ll try this first. You bob your mouth a few times, drooling saliva down his shaft. You only make it about halfway along the length each time. Leon drags his heels back towards him, giving him the leverage to rock his hips up into your mouth.

It’s gentle, of course, but you still gag. He lets up, letting you have a moment. You pull back to drag some grateful breaths down your throat. Spit pours in a cascade down his cock. Holy shit. You’re slobbering like a dog.

Not needing a pep talk this time, you go right back in. You sink lower this time, Leon can almost call himself proud. His cants into your mouth get more and more intense. The frequency of your gags increase and the worst happens.

You retch, dragging him deeper down your throat only to vomit all over him. Leon’s mortified, scuttling back as far as he can, essentially uncorking your pharynx and letting it gush out onto the floor and…. your tits.

Leon could almost cry. Both for his incoming UTI and the ruined state of your beautiful tits– the only hot thing about you. It’s his fault. He flew too close to the sun. The puke’s brownish-yellow, bits of food caught in it.

You wipe your mouth, catching your breath and staring down at it all. “I’m sorry. I’m just… used to throwing up.”

“You’re fucking bulimic?” He can feel your puke soaking into the fabric of his clothes. Gross gross gross. Somehow zombie guts are less horrible than this. 

“I can make it up to you!” You say, floundering. “What can I do?”

He stares at you for a moment, unblinking. Then he remembers this is your first time ever and you’re probably never getting fucked again. “Take your shirt off.” Leon’s not even sure why he still wants to see your tits at this point, but he’s in too deep now. 

You do as you’re told, surprisingly. Maybe you’re just too mortified. You’re in a cheap bra, you bunch up your shirt and try to mop up the vomit as best you can. 

“Can you take the rest of it off?” Anything to help his rapidly shrinking boner. 

You pause. “You want to see that?”

Can’t be worse than anything he’s already seen. “Course I do.”

You reach behind you and unclasp your bra, the material wilts off your figure and Leon finally gets to see your tits in action. They droop a little once free, so impossibly big and round, your nipples are hard from the cold. They need to invent new letters of the alphabet for your cup size.

You take the rest of your clothes off too, but it’s not as exciting. His dick comes back to life, a modern day miracle. “Put it between your tits.”

You stare at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” He holds your gaze, not backing down on this.

There’s no complaint on your end. Cupping your tits— the way he wishes he could right now— you maneuver them around his cock. And Leon finally gets his boob job. 

It’s not at all like he imagined, you clearly have no idea how to do this, but at least you look good, warm skin up against his dick that has started to leak pre like a faucet. He tosses his head with a sigh, gently moving his hips. 

Your face is flushed with embarrassment as you meet his gaze— it looks good on you, balances out your features quite nicely. Then your tongue lolls out and licks at the head of his cock and Leon could swear he just entered heaven. It’s a shame that heaven looks a lot like your cement basement.

Maybe he should go for ugly girls more often. There’s this sense of desperation you’ve got going on that is making you seem way better at this. It makes sense— you never know when you’re gonna get this close to a guy ever again.

His cuffs jingle as he tries to pull his wrists from them, his horny mind bent solely on getting his hands on you and your body. Leon’s getting greedy now, he wants to know what your tits feel like. He debates dislocating his wrists to slip him out of the thin metal cuffs.

Your eyes are zeroed in on the tip of his cock as you suck it. “Is this okay?” You ask. 

“More than okay. Can you put your mouth back on it—? Fuck—“ Your mouth sinks lower and his thighs twitch, his hips meandering hopefully toward your wet mouth. 

The last thing he was expecting when he woke up in this basement was a very satisfactory blowjob. Seems like he really is a lucky guy. You don’t seem to be very committed to your goal of exterminating the blond male race if you’re here sucking off the guy you planned to kill.

You’re working his dick like it’s a full time job, your spit pooling around the base of his cock and glistening on your tits. You press your boobs tight to his dick like you’re trying to keep it warm on a cold day. How thoughtful of you.

Leon busts embarrassingly quick, spraying hot cum all over your face, getting caught in your eyelashes. Your mouth drops open in shock and you sit up— your fault for being in the splash zone.

“Are you gonna let me go now?” Leon asks as his dick flops back down against his hip, softening up. 

You wipe the cum from your cheek, tentatively tasting some. You make a noise of surprise, going back for seconds. “No, I think I’ll keep you here.”

Fuck. So much for a quick getaway. Mr. President will find him eventually.

[zalrb]

agreed about mark/helly. if they kept it how it was introduced in s1 i would’ve been bored, but now with helena i feel like it’s 10x more narratively interesting. a lot of ppl on twitter are discussing the sex scene and wondering if it’ll be treated as assault in later eps considering that mark s didn’t know it was helena. i’d love for it to be addressed properly but i don’t know if the writers will handle it that way

you know, i actually would be surprised if the show didn't treat it as assault against mark as well as helly considering the implications of everything, like it was helena's body but it's also helly's body and helena posing as helly to mark and how that puts helly in this horrible position as well, i think there's just too much there for them not to explore what the emotional and psychological consequences of helena's actions, which were inherently nonconsensual, are.