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depravitycentral · 1 year ago

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Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku NSFW Profile

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, dub-con, breeding, non-consensual touching, dry humping, masturbation, panty sniffing, a brief mention about virginity being sacred but no explicit mention of whether reader is a virgin or not, Kyojuro is a virgin tho so corruption kink kind of, pillow humping, coercion, allusions to lactation kink and pregnancy kink, choking, spitting, Kyo gets sex advice from Tengen, Kyo picks you up at one point but remember he's literally a Hashira and could pick anyone up no matter their weight, fem reader, MDNI

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

WC: 12K

HABITS:

In general, Kyojuro isn’t an incessantly horny man. Not only does he hold women in a high respect and doesn’t inherently sexualize them, but to be quite honest he simply doesn’t have time to be regularly indulging in sex or even masturbation. He’s a busy man, and when others are settled under their covers, either sleeping or moaning in another’s ear, he’s out in the dark, dangerous night hunting demons.

And so despite being in the sexual prime of his life, Kyojuro doesn’t have a huge amount of experience. He’s never considered actually touching a woman before, mostly because he didn’t feel the urge to and because he firmly believes in the idea of saving himself for his wife and life partner.

And even once you step into his life he doesn’t magically become some sex-crazed monster – eventually he is, sure, but it’s gradual. It takes a while to reach that stage, for him to both desire you enough and desire sex enough to be wasting his time fantasizing about you and your body.

Little seeds will be planted in his mind as the weeks and month pass, his obsession slowly developing and leaving him floundering when small, inappropriate thoughts begin seeping into the edges of his mind.

He’s noticing the way your kimono dips down just a bit one day – your collarbones are pretty, and he can’t help but have a fleeting thought of how soft the skin of your neck and shoulders must be.

(He’ll return home that night and try to forget that thought, going through an even more extensive training regime than normal, but even by the end of the some four hour session, he’s still imagining how the skin of your collarbones must taste.)

He’s suddenly noticing that your voice gets higher when you get flustered, the pitch raising just slightly, enough for him to notice and mentally file away for future reference.

(Would your voice get higher if he were to fluster you? How would you sound when he’s just kissed you, your lips swollen and your eyes dazed? How would you sound when he’s touching you, his hands settling at your waist or cupping your breasts, or perhaps even slowly, carefully dipping his fingers inside of you, feeling you tighten up and clench down and gasp and writhe and moan his name - )

He becomes acutely aware of the way you always seem to bend over to pick things up, your clumsiness coming into play as he finds himself unconsciously moving to stand so that he has an unobstructed view as you bend over, his eyes blatantly fixed on the curve of your ass, his lips slightly parted.

(He’s definitely thinking of that image later that night, one of his rare nights off, with his hand wrapped deathly tight around his cock as he imagines you bending over for him - perhaps over his dining table, or maybe even over his knee as he gropes and squeezes and plays with you.)

The thoughts feel largely out of place initially, more often than not leaving him slightly dazed and confused because he’s never thought about how soft and smooth a woman’s thighs must be, nor about how your hands feel so small in comparison to his: less calloused and rough and warmer.

It’s strange, but as his delusions grow deeper and his feelings for you only intensify, Kyojuro finds himself rationalizing that it isn’t so disrespectful to be thinking this way – you’re practically already courting, and while you may not yet possess the Rengoku name, you will soon enough.

And once you’re wed?

Well, surely you must know what married couples do – pleasuring one another, loving one another, spending hours tangled in the sheets with gasps and cries ringing through their ears, sweat and kisses and cum covering every inch of their bodies. And if that’s your future – which he’s positive it is – then what’s the harm in imagining it?

He imagines all sorts of domestic scenarios with you, so why should it matter if the clothing is removed and your pretty smile is replaced with a pretty moan?

It’s fine – and so, while he still doesn’t wring himself dry to you every day, he’s sure to settle down and explicitly imagine being with you in an intimate way at least three times a week – even if that means unzipping the pants of his uniform with a demon’s blood still staining his hands, freshly killed and sending adrenaline through his veins.

(Adrenaline that then gets channeled into imagining the way you’d be so proud of him for outsmarting the demon and successfully eliminating it – perhaps you’d be so proud that you’d be willing to get on your knees for him, your soft lips wrapping around him and sucking, your little moans making his head spin and your nimble fingers kneading and groping at his balls. Ah yes, what a lovely thought…)

So while he’s not the most horny yandere of his comrades, he’s certainly no saint. But really, how could he be when you’re so damn alluring?

When it comes to actually touching himself, Kyojuro finds that his pleasure comes easiest when he’s actually doing the work, actually putting effort into getting himself off. It feels okay to simply pump his fist up and down, but it’s not enough – because being with you would be so much more overwhelming, even just your body heat alone making the experience ten times more powerful, more intense, more enjoyable.

He wants to immerse himself in the fantasy of actually having your soft body to kiss and touch and love, and he finds the best way to really achieve this is to fuck something rather than fucking his fist. But he’s a loyal man, and would sooner end his life than fall into the arms of another woman, even if only for a night.

And so, he compromises by fashioning a pillow – one with a covering of your favorite color, of course – into a substitute for yourself.

And while it feels good to have the pillow at all, Kyojuro finds that even just the simple pillow isn’t enough – it needs more, to be more representative of you, to just be better at convincing him that it’s really your wet, warm cunt he’s sinking into with every thrust rather than the dense plush of the pillow.

And so, with dark ink, he musters up every bit of artistic talent he possesses and carefully, oh so carefully draws in your features as much as he’s able to. He’s certainly no artist, but he’s slow and methodical with bringing to life this poor stand in for your own body – paying attention to every small detail, wanting everything to be as life-like as possible.

Your eyes are drawn on, correct down to the shape, even going so far as to try and ink on every eyelash, the flecks of color in your irises, any eye bags or wrinkles you may have.

He’s drawing your nose, the outline of jaw and neck, and, of course, your lips. He’s drawn them so that they’re permanently parted, leaving you looking like you’re gasping in pleasure, even going so far as to try and shade them so that they appear to be wet.

(Presumably with spit, or perhaps something a bit thicker, a bit hotter – it depends on the fantasy.)

The drawings continue down your body, making sure to outline your neck and shoulders, even down to your hands and fingers. (One hand is drawn with all your fingers curled and your thumb touching your index finger, so that a circular hole is made.)

He’s drawn your breasts, nipples, the swell of your tummy, your hips and thighs, even your calves and the arch of your ankles.

(He’s drawn you so that your thighs are spread slightly, giving him a view into what lies between – he’s not entirely sure of the technicalities of female anatomy, so he’s negating drawing any specifics and instead simply leaving the area blank, not willing to misrepresent your lovely, gorgeous figure – that’d feel disrespectful to you, as if the fact that he’s essentially created a sex doll in your image isn’t. He’s seen enough mothers breastfeeding children to have an idea of the upper half of a woman’s body, but he still shivers in excitement at learning how your upper body looks – though he thinks he has a good idea based upon how your clothing fits you, his eyes greedily observing the way the material is taut around your chest.)

Once everything is drawn, it’s easy to tear holes in the pillow – one between your legs, one in the curled circle of your hand, one between your pretty, parted lips.

Once he’s completed his work he'll eagerly, gingerly bring the pillow to his bed, gulping excitedly and immediately stripping off his clothing. His cock is already rock hard, swollen and pressing against his lower stomach, the tip a bright red and shining in the firelight of the room, precum soaking the skin.

He’d managed to get a guaranteed night off-duty this evening, which means there won’t be a single interruption. He’ll set the pillow down flat, excitement already licking at his every muscle, the room feeling incredibly hot already. He’s quick to settle himself above the pillow, his weight resting on both knees and his forearm that’s pressed against the ground. His free hand comes up to lightly trace at the drawn-on curve of your jaw, his face mere inches from where he imagines yours to be.

My flame, you are so beautiful… He’ll tell you, tongue flicking out to lick at his lips.

His cock twitches as he leans down to softly press his lips against your drawn ones, the kiss soft and slow and meaningful, the Hashira pouring every ounce of affection he feels for you into the action.

He imagines you kissing back; would you be hesitant, embarrassed and shy? Or would you be just as eager, perhaps wrapping your arms around his neck and running your hands through his hair, maybe even pulling on it, biting his lip and letting him know how badly you need him?

He groans, his eyes closed, lips working harder against the pillow, his tongue coming out to dart against the hole cut out, imagining your own tongue tangling with his. His hand wanders down from your jaw to your breast, fingers groping and squeezing at nothing but cotton, but the motion alone has his hips bucking, cock brushing slightly against the pillow. It makes him hiss, pulling back from the kiss and licking his lips, his eyes already half lidded and dazed.

Forgive me, I can’t wait any longer, I must be inside you.

His voice is breathless, and as he shimmeys upwards slightly, he’s spreading his legs a bit, thighs flexing as he leans back, audible inhaling as he nudges his tip against the hole between your drawn on legs, already smearing precum against the material from just a bit of contact.

His fingers are trembling slightly as he pushes in inch by inch, going slowly just like he would if it was really you, wanting to make sure you adjust to him and he feels good, so that you’ll be ready for him to absolutely ravish you.

He’s groaning as he bottoms out, balls pressed tightly against the pillow, his chest heaving as he stares wildly at your drawn on face. You feel – you feel amazing, my flame, oh –

He presses his forehead against yours as he slowly pulls back, the muscles of his ass and lower back going taut, before sinking in slowly again, an uneven sigh of your name slipping past his lips.

You feel so tight around me, does it feel good? Does it feel good to have me inside you?

Just the phrasing of that makes his head spin, the idea that he’s inside of you (even if he’s really not) making his hips snap to life, his previously slow pace picking up quickly.

He’s panting already, all the breathing control he’s mastered flying out the window because this is different – it’s your body underneath him, your pretty pussy sucking him in over and over and over, your moans ringing in his ears as you cry out his name again and again.

Kyojuro Kyojuro Kyojuro, please it feels so good!

He’s imagining the way you’d moan his name, how your voice would get so breathy, your fingers raking down his back, your legs wrapping around his hips.

He groans your name again, hips snapping into yours hard enough to push the pillow up with every thrust, his mind running wild as he imagines how your breasts would bounce at the force, practically begging to be squeezed and sucked at. A hand comes up and begins groping at nothing again, his thumb brushing over where he’s drawn on your nipple, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as the pleasure begins mounting.

It just feels too damn good – it’s so easy to imagine you below him, crying out his name as he fucks you hard enough to leave you utterly destroyed, your perfect little cunt massaging him in just the right ways.

He’s chanting your name under his breath, his eyes wide and staring down at your inked face, his voice getting faster and more strained as his muscles start clenching, his balls tightening and his hips stuttering and his heart racing because oh god oh fuck oh fuck –

He’s pulling out at the last minute, cum spurting all over the pillowcase, his moans of your name filling the room as his hand quickly tugs, wrist twisting and moving so fast it’s nearly a blur. The pleasure is immense, leaving his toes curling and every hair on his body standing up straight, feeling as if fire is running through his veins.

After the last few sad spurts dribble from his oversensitive, swollen tip, he’s left gasping, swallowing hard and letting a broad grin slip across his face. With still heavy breaths, he pushes back any stray hair from his forehead, the bit of sweat gathered there leaving him sighing. He’s quick to lean down, pressing a soft, long kiss against your drawn-on lips, a whispered I love you murmured against the pillow.

He has to swallow hard as he pulls back, euphoria still swimming in his veins at the intensity of his orgasm. Pleasuring himself to the thought of you is nearly too much - it leaves him breathless, feeling a high that doesn’t fade for hours after, and as he lays down beside the pillow, still stained with cum as he pulls it against his chest, imagining spooning you, he can’t help but shiver.

Because if it feels this good to simply imagine, how would the real you feel?

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your thighs

In general, Kyojuro thinks you’re absolutely beautiful.

He finds you to be the single most attractive woman on Earth, and even if he’s never seen your body in anything more form fitting than a kimono or a slayer uniform, he’s absolutely sure that whatever awaits him beneath the cloth will be heaven, the thing of wet dreams.

And the moment he finally, finally has you bare below him, your pretty skin on display and waiting to be kissed, fondled, marked as his, he finds that he’s not disappointed in any way.

You’re gorgeous – and, naturally, the most gorgeous part of you is your thighs. There’s something about the sight of them that gets him swallowing hard, his eyes growing a bit brighter and wider.

His palms get a bit sweatier when he sees the way they splay out when you sit down, the fat jiggling with every step you take, the way they just look so touchable and squeezable. He nearly has a full body reaction the moment your thighs are out on display, his body temperature rising to extreme heights and his attention straining to stay on you rather than your pretty legs.

Even in settings where soft, loving affection is occurring, he's still eyeing them, appreciating the way you look in his clothing, the simple overshirt you’d put on that morning stopping mid thigh and leaving very little of your upper legs to the imagination.

(You’ll notice the way his fingers slowly creep down from your waist, moving inch by inch until they’re finally laying over the curve of your thigh, idly rubbing and pressing into the warm flesh, marveling at just how soft you are.)

And when you’re both intimate with one another, his enjoyment of your thighs will be more than apparent – he’s always touching them, his hand coming down to squeeze and stay there, almost latching onto you as he throws your leg over his shoulder, his hips never stopping the brutal pace he’s established.

Every position he fucks you in involves your thighs somehow – he’s forcing you to wrap them around his hips when he's hovering above you and pressing down on you so tightly you’re only able to breath in him.

When he’s folded you into the deepest mating press possible, he’s holding you in position by pressing directly against the back of your thighs rather than your knees, often leaving fingertip shaped bruises there from the sheer force and strength he has to keep at bay every time he slips inside you.

Even when he’s fucking you from behind, your pretty ass on display as he sinks so deeply into you that it drives him crazy, he’s making sure to line his own thighs up to press against yours, relishing in the way his balls clap against your clit and the soft, plush fat of your upper inner thighs.

He’s paying extra attention to nip and tease you when he’s got his head between your legs, sucking hickeys and pressing kisses against your inner thighs as he slowly trails up from the inside of your knees.

He wants you to cage in his head when you’re nearing your orgasm, to squeeze as tightly as possible while he licks and moans and thrusts his tongue into you, the only thing he can see and taste and feel and hear being you you you.

Even when you’ve got your lips wrapped around his cock, his eyes are fixated on the way your thighs look splayed out while you kneel on them, his hips bucking as he zones out slightly, the pleasurable feeling of your mouth making him moan and struggle to maintain his composure.

He just really, really likes that area of your body, and while there’s certainly no part of you that he doesn’t like, his penchant for touching you there and always having a hand on your thigh will be very, very apparent to you.

So if you want to tease him, to see the way his eyes darken a bit and his smile grows a bit sinister, sit down with your legs slightly spread, stare at him with those pretty, pouty eyes of yours, and tell him that you’ve been feeling sore, will you please give me a massage, Kyo? I miss your touch…

You’ll have trouble walking the next day, and the littering of bruises, hickeys, and bite marks against your thighs will serve as proud trophies for Kyojuro, who will insist you not cover them up.

His mouth

In the context of sex, Kyojuro lives to please. He’s being completely honest when he firmly tells you that your pleasure is his, because he really does feel that way.

When you touch him it makes his head spin and his hips involuntarily buck, but when he touches you?

Well, more often than not he’s coming alongside you when he’s fingering you, that telltale groan of o-oh and the wet warmth you’ll feel against your skin letting you know exactly how watching you fall apart is affecting him. And similarly, he gets very, very into it when he’s got his mouth working at you, his talented tongue drawing tight circles over your clit and his hair tickling the inside of your thighs.

Every sexual encounter with Kyojuro will involve him eating you out in some capacity, both because he wants you to feel good, and also because he genuinely enjoys the taste of you and the feel of you against his tongue.

And he’s good at it too – he starts off slow, teasing you with playful nipping and smiles against your skin, his eyes looking up at you the whole time, forcing you to keep eye contact because he wants you to see how he pleasures you, for you to see how right he looks between your legs.

He’ll ghost around where you really need him for a while, making sure to pepper kisses at the juncture between your pelvis and thigh, the area right above your clit, even your lower tummy and hips.

He’ll kitten lick at your folds, humming against your skin and letting the vibrations send shivers up your spine, his tongue dipping just a bit deeper each time, until he’s using his thumbs to physically spread your lips, lewd slurping noises filling your ears as he licks and sucks, pleasure making you sigh his name.

After he’s sufficiently teases you, he’ll press a few more kisses to your thigh, then move upwards, still staring you in the eyes, before licking his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

He’ll tell you that he loves your body, my flame, especially this special spot that always makes you moan my name, before flicking his tongue along it, enjoying the way you jerk at the acute stimulation.

He’s perfected the art of keeping a steady, consistent pattern against you, making sure that the rhythm can let the pleasure build, a dull warmth spreading through your entire lower body.

Meanwhile, he’ll always slip a finger inside of you, curling and pressing against areas he knows you like, feeling the way your thighs twitch and your moans get louder.

He likes when you run your hands through his hair as he uses his mouth on you, especially if you lightly tug or pull; the pleasure tinged with slight pain makes him blindly hump at whatever is closest to him.

And he’ll always, always keep going until you’ve reached your high, even if that means spending hours between your legs; anything to feel the way your cunt flutters against his lips, how you gasp and practically wail his name, your thighs seizing up and your slick coating his chin and lips.

His eyes close as he eagerly laps it up, addicted to your taste – and as he pulls back, his lower face glistening with your arousal and spit, he’ll kiss you, pulling you into a passionate, tongue-heavy kiss.

Even outside of going down on you, Kyojuro finds ways to utilize his mouth in regards to you in every situation he can – he’s always pressing kisses against your lips, cheek, forehead, neck, and knuckles, liking the way that it flusters you and leaves you biting your lip.

He’s taking your hand in his and pressing kisses against your fingertips, singing your praises between presses of his lips, until he’s eventually slipping a finger into his mouth, holding your gaze as he sucks and runs his tongue up and down your skin, the intensity of the moment making you simultaneously aroused and uncomfortable.

He’ll even go so far as to share your toothbrush, just because he likes the idea of a little bit of him being in a little bit of you.

(You’re very aware of this, even without the whole toothbrush misfortune – his penchant for always, always finishing inside of you makes this abundantly clear.)

DRIVE:

Despite Kyojuro’s delusions about your relationship and how you feel for him, even he can’t misread the way you react so negatively to his mentions of being sexual with you. You always freeze up, eyes going wide, your head shaking no and your voice hurried as you tell him please, please no Kyojuro, I’m not – I’m not ready for that, please don’t!

He’ll respect that, firmly nodding and tell you to not worry, my love, I can wait for as long as it takes!

He doesn’t really understand it, however, because in his mind there really shouldn’t be a reason why you aren’t ready – you’re his, and you know it.

You’re living together (even if that wasn’t your choice) and you share a bed together when he’s home. You bath together (something that Kyojuro enjoys very, very much, his hands always wandering, his breath hot in your ear as he tells you that you’re beautiful, something hard pressing against you when he’s washing your hair), share a toothbrush, eat together and wear his clothing – you’re a couple, a partnership between a man and a woman, and wanting to express your love physically is a natural urge.

It’s normal and healthy, and something he wants so, so very badly to do with you. But he understands that perhaps you’re not comfortable with that level of intimacy quite yet – he’s aware of how society views women who’ve lost their virginity (he’d never explicitly asked you if you’ve touched another person, but he assumes you’ve saved yourself for him as he’s saved himself for you), and although you’d be giving it to the man you’ll spend the rest of your life with, he can respect that you might simply be afraid to lose something you’ve learned is cherished.

He’s disappointed by your rejection of sex, but he means it when he says he’ll wait for you to be ready and won’t force it upon you. That does not, however, mean that Kyojuro will completely abstain from interacting with you sexually. He just can’t help himself – sure, he may not be actively fucking you, but he finds other ways to placate the carnal desires practically begging him to rip off your clothing and press you against him while he makes you moan and writhe and fills you with him him him.

It starts small – he’s kissing you every chance he gets, letting them get longer and deeper, lasting sometimes minutes at a time while small moans and groans slip from his mouth into yours. His hand initially starts at your shoulder when he does this, but as time passes he gets bolder – it moves to your waist, your cheek, your hip, even over your ribcage right below your clothed breast, the edges of his fingers brushing against the underside of the pudge fat as moving up slowly, up until he pulls away from the kiss for air.

When kissing you becomes not enough, he moves to hugging you for longer periods of time, getting tighter and purposefully pressing parts of his body against you. He’s always been touchy, and you’ve been getting hugs for nearly as long as you’ve known him (even before his infatuation formed, back when his feelings for you were strictly platonic – now, though, they’re anything but).

But these hugs are different – he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and forcing you flush with his body, smiling at you with those wide, unsettling eyes while his breathing picks up ever so slightly, his pelvis pressed tightly against your own so that you can feel something – something warm, big, almost feeling like it’s moving against you, like it’s throbbing.

He’ll ask you to give him a pair of your panties when he leaves for missions, smiling so brightly and boyishly when you hesitantly deliver the piece of cloth to his outstretched palm, licking his lips and bringing the garment up to inhale deeply before stuffing it away into one of the many pockets of his Demon Corps uniform, telling you with a laugh to choose a pair that’s been used next time please, my flame.

(You never ask why he wants the underwear while he’s gone, simply because you think you know the answer already, but somehow hearing it from him would be worse, like confirming a truth you desperately wished to be false. Plus, you’re sure he’d tell you in extreme detail exactly how he uses them, too, perhaps even giving you a visual demonstration because he’s just so eager to interact with you, to feel your pretty eyes on him.)

It’s disturbing, but it’s a small comfort to know that he may be pushy and make you uncomfortable but he’ll never truly force you into sex. Kyojuro may be many things, but he’s at least a man of his word – even if he very, very badly wishes he wasn’t sometimes.

And so as wonderful as kissing you deeper and hugging you tighter and fucking his fist to your panties is, Kyojuro eventually decides that he needs more. He needs to get as close to actually fucking you as he can without being inside of you, just as he promised.

And so the perfect solution is really just that simple – running through the motions without violating your wishes. Kyojuro is ecstatic just thinking about – which is why, when the mood strikes him, his cock straining against his trousers and his fingers itching to reach out and touch, he’ll strip off his clothing, smiling at you and running his knuckles against your cheek while telling you to take your clothing off please, love, I want to make you feel good.

And really, as much as you don’t want to, it’s easier on both of you if you just do – your options are let him hump you like a dog, or be forced to touch him, your own hand wrapped around his cock as he moans and sighs and thrusts into your hand while telling you how good you look. And so, once your clothing is off, Kyojuro will look at you with those eyes, licking his lips slowly and walking up to you, pressing himself against you again and letting his hands sit firmly at your waist.

My flame, he’ll murmur to you, his voice low and his breath a bit hitched because his cock is pressed up against your thigh and god, even that touch alone is enough to make his knees feel weak. Lay down for me.

He’ll have you lay on your back, your legs spread for him and your arms over your head. He’ll stand for a while, simply staring at you, the sight of you in such a provocative position making his cheeks tinge pink and his throat feel a bit dry. But soon there’s too much precum dribbling from his tip to ignore, and he’ll climb over you, hovering over you and wrapping your leg around his waist, so that his face is mere inches from yours and his cock is pressed against your navel.

He’ll swallow, leaning down a bit to press his lips against yours, relishing in the warmth of your body pressed against his own. Kisses are pressed against the corner of your mouth, then down the length of your jaw, down your neck and finally to your shoulder, the movements slow and meaningful despite the near painful aching between his legs. His hips seem to move on their own, slowly rocking forward and backwards, the friction of his cock rubbing against your skin and against the tufts of hair making him hiss slightly.

His lips find purchase at your ear, deep sighs and heavy pants impossible to ignore as he slowly picks up his pace. The stimulation feels good, but it’s not enough for him - he has to move faster, harder, be better, because this is really a chance for him to show you exactly what you’re missing out on. This is his opportunity to show you that if he were to do this inside of you, it would feel so much better for you – it’s his opportunity to convince you that sex with him would feel good, that you’d be satisfied, that he could please you.

And he commits to that desire – one forearm is pressed against the bed right beside your head supporting his weight while the other wanders from your waist up to grope and squeeze at your breast, deft fingers pinching and rolling your nipple between them. He’ll groan your name, leaning down to lick at your lips and tell you that you’re so very beautiful, his voice strained. He’ll bring the hand down to ghost over your stomach, right above where his cock is grinding and thrusting, moving to bury his nose against your neck while he chants your name. His voice is a bit slurred, the pleasure making his brows draw tightly together, his hips snapping and flexing harder and harder.

He’s close, and he tells you as much – muffled against your neck, his low groan of f-feels too good, you feel so good love…

With his orgasm approaching, he resorts to kissing your neck again, his hair tickling you and the feeling of his cock dragging against your skin over and over making your toes curl involuntarily, because even as humiliating and uncomfortable as this is, isn’t there something oddly sexy about this big, strong man making himself a fool on you, losing him mind from just the feel of you?

He’s desperate for the pleasure he’s right on the brink of as he blindly reaches out to find your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours tightly, the moan that rises in the back of his throat high and uneven and raw. His whole body shakes as something warm and thick spurts against your stomach, a few drops landing on the undersides of your breasts, his breath heavy in your ear as he slowly, oh so slowly thrusts, riding out the last waves of his pleasure.

His hand is still gripping yours, and after a moment he pulls back and kisses you again, his tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and insistent, the red on his cheeks even more pronounced now.

It’s still not ideal, grinding and humping against you like this, but Kyojuro is content to do it as many times as it takes until you finally, finally feel ready to let him love you like you deserve, to let him make you gasp and cry out his name and gush around him until you’re too incoherent to even think.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

Kyojuro is very vocal in bed. He’s constantly talking to you – telling you how good you feel, telling you when something in particular feels best, warning you when his orgasm is dangerously near, just producing a constant stream of commentary as he fucks you. His voice is breathy the whole time, always turned up at the ends of his sentences because the pleasure is too strong, forcing him to slur his words together because fuck you feel good.

A lot of his vocalness stems from the fact that he’s just so excited to be intimate with you – he’s been fantasizing about this for a long time, long nights spent with his eyes closed and his cheeks a bit pink,

imagining the way you’d look underneath the pretty kimonos and clothing you wear.

He’s imagined what your face would look like when he’s cupping your breasts, thumbing at your nipples and making your brows twitch, biting your lip as you tell him to squeeze just a hair harder, pressing yourself against him because having his hands on you feel too good.

He’s imagined how your thighs would tremble when he’s got two fingers buried in your cunt, curling and scissoring and rubbing against your sensitive walls while you curl your toes and whine his name.

He’s even imagined the way your pussy would feel as he’s fucking you, how it would clench down on him hard, practically begging him to stay inside, begging for every last drop of cum he can possibly give.

He’s fantasized and daydreamed and imagined for months on end, each scenario only making him more anxious to finally have his hands on you, the buildup to actual intimacy with you leaving him wildly excited. And so, now that you’re finally with him, your perfect body warm and soft to the touch just as he knew you’d be, Kyojuro can’t help himself from telling you every little thing he’s thinking and feeling. He’s rambling on about how pretty you look when you’re underneath him, your body spread out for him and completely bare.

He’ll smile at you and kiss at every available inch of skin as his hands squeeze and knead at your sides, leaning back to admire the view of a flustered, bashful you underneath him all with a dreamy sigh and a small you’re so perfect, my flame, exactly as I imagined you’d be. And really, it would be sweet if it weren’t for the way he continues on to tell you exactly what he’d imagined, explicit details about how he'd fucked to his fist to the thought of you writhing below him, what pace he’d used, how he’d tightened up his grip to simulate how tight you’d grip him, even going so far as to tell you that this particular fantasy had him producing much more cum than normal when he eventually came.

It’s too much information and will leave you feeling disturbed and a bit scared, but Kyojuro doesn’t seem to notice – he’s too deeply enthralled with the pleasure you’re giving him, the words seeing to slip off his tongue without him even realizing it as he thrusts into you with an almost inhuman speed.

But of course, even as lovely as it is to detail all of the fantasies he’s had of you, what you’ll most often get with him is praise. He generally thinks that you’re enchanting, viewing you as something perfect and lovely and so, so very wonderful, but when he’s intimate with you this perception of you only intensifies.

Every small burst of pleasure you give him only solidifies his infatuation with you, and he can’t stop himself from telling you how beautiful you look on your knees for him, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock and your eyes prickling with tears because he’s too big for you to take down your throat. He’ll just smile, hand cupping the back of your hand and slowly easing you down his length, biting his lip at the sight and sighing out that you’re doing so well, you feel so – so good, yes love oh, suck just like that, it feels amazing when you do that.

He’ll have you perched on his lap, tits bouncing in his face while his hands clutch at your hips and move you up and down his cock, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and a moan of your name falling past his lips, small chants of yes yes yes and gasps of your name filling the air between you.

He’ll lick and suck at your clit with his head buried between your thighs, a lithe finger working in and out of you as he moans appreciatively against you, your taste on his tongue forcing him to pull back a moment to lick a long, flat stripe against your folds, his chin and lips visibly glistening as you tells you that you taste so delicious, I can’t get enough of you, give me more please my flame, I need more of you.

And when you’re gushing around his fingers a few minutes later, desperately grabbing at the pillow under your head and his hair, Kyojuro can only brokenly groan, his own orgasm not far behind yours as he thrusts his hips against the floor. You’re just so pretty and perfect and wonderful, and how can he not tell you?

And after he’s emptied himself inside of you, he’ll curl you into his arms and hold you, breathing into your ear and telling you how good you did, how you did so well and made him feel so good. Kisses are pressed against the crown of your head while he does this, his compliments sounding so genuine and reverent that you’ll be equal parts flattered and uncomfortable because god, he really means it when he says you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, doesn’t he?

Kyojuro of course loves to be praised in turn – any positive comment from you is met with eager and wide eyes, his ministrations and motions only increasing, his desperation to please you and make you feel good nearly palpable. Your moans of his name and cries of yes and right there and please making something smug and warm swell in his chest, his obsession only deepening because you just look so right when you’re falling apart on his cock.

He lives to please you, so please praise him – he’ll return the favor with so much passion and vigor that you’ll almost be embarrassed for him at how high and whiny and lewd the groan he lets out when he spills inside you is.

Almost, because he’ll follow it up with heavy breaths and a stuttered that – that was for you, because of you, because you feel so fucking good.

Oral Fixation

There’s something about the taste of you that he simply can’t get enough of. Even before he stole you away, Kyojuro was quick to snatch any small item of yours that could potentially taste like you.

He managed to snag the small vial of lip balm he’s seen you use – the one that his eyes always get stuck on, watching the way you pucker and pop your lips, the smacking noises obscene and provocative and sexy. You’d left it on the table after a lunch he’d invited you to, and Kyojuro – ever the gentleman – had pocketed it with the intention to return it to you later. Only, he didn’t – it stayed in his pocket until later that night when he’d fished it out, carefully opened it, and pressed the nearly empty balm against his own lips, closing his eyes and sighing because oh, if he licks his lips now he’ll taste you…

He’s got a cloth he keeps in his pocket that’s reserved specifically for you – when you’re eating with him, going on outgoings that are strictly platonic to you but are anything but to him, he’ll use the cloth and wipe off bits of food sitting on your lips, some stray sauce on the corner of your mouth. The cloth is kept in his pocket until later, when his cock is bright red and swollen and drooling precum for you, his lip caught between his teeth as he uses the cloth to tug and twist at his sensitive head, the friction of the cotton against his skin making him shiver and writhe and curl his toes all the while your name falls from his lips.

And once he’s done, he’s quick to bring the cloth up to his mouth, tongue lolling against the material as he tastes his cum and you mixed together, a flavor that gets the last sad little spurt of cum oozing from his swollen tip, the sensation making him groan lowly.

Really, he just likes the taste of you – and once your physical relationship begins, this penchant he has for tasting you only increases.

Now, he doesn’t have to be sneaky – no longer does he have to rely on placing your used utensils in his mouth in order to get even the slightest bit of you on his tongue.

Now he can just wrap an arm around your waist and press you close, mouth dipping down to slot his lips against yours, a moan muffled against your mouth because god, you’re so sweet and warm and he wants to drink in everything you can give him.

(Yes you’ve watched him kiss you and pull back, swallowing and licking his lips, telling you that your spit tastes delicious, my flame, please give me more before diving back in, kissing you and sucking on your tongue so hard you can practically feel his desperation.)

Now he can press kisses against your neck and jawline, tongue lathing up and down your collarbones while he licks and sucks, the dark bruising making his eyes light up and his breathing a bit uneven.

(Normally Kyojuro is strictly against harming you, but there’s something about hickeys that makes him sway ever so slightly on this rule. Perhaps it’s because he’s the cause of the dull pain, or maybe it’s because every time he’s working at your neck and shoulders you always let out these little whines that go straight to his cock, your fingers gripping tighter at his hair. Sometimes, when he’s particularly pent up and desperate for you, he swears he can even feel your cunt throbbing through the layers of clothing separating you, as if you’re just as needy and frantic for him as he is you. Ah, what a lovely thought.)

Now he can just gently press you against the wall, getting to his knees and throwing your leg over his shoulder while he pushing the pretty robe he’d bought you up to your hips, exposing the skimpy panties he'd bought for you as a present.

(They’re red, of course, with pretty lace details around the edges and a little bow at the very top, almost as if you’re a present for him to open and play with. He’d bought them for you before he’d stolen you away, gifted them to you with a bright smile and not an ounce of shame, and had insisted you wear them despite your discomfort after noticing an odd stain on them – one that left a dark spot that Kyojuro refused to explain, only laughing and pressing a kiss to your cheek when asked.)

He’ll lick over your clothed cunt, humming against you and chuckling when you squirm at the vibrations. He’s suckling at your clit over the cloth, those eyes of his staring up at you from between your legs, the taste of you strong and making his mind spin even before he’s actually touching you.

But soon, Kyojuro can’t settle for just your phantom taste – he needs more, needs you, and so he’s suddenly standing up, picking you up with no effort and settling you down onto the bed, immediately laying between your legs. He’s spreading your thighs and licking his lips, rolling your panties down and off your legs before absolutely devouring you – he’s licking and sucking loudly enough to make lewd, wet suction noises fill the room.

There’s wet schluck-schluck noises ringing in your ears as he pushes a finger inside, all the way down to his second knuckle and curling them, the pads of his fingers brushing against the spot that gets you moaning and your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. All the while he’s playing with your clit, tongue tracing shapes and spelling his name, humming and moaning and sucking at you like a man starved. His stamina is high, and he’s keeping up the pace until you’re clutching at his hair and moaning his name like a prayer, the pleasure making you writhe and gasp and gush all over his fingers and chin.

But once Kyojuro gets a taste of you, he’s not simply satisfied with just one orgasm – he needs more, to feel you clenching down on his fingers and your clit throbbing as he fucks you through the high.

He’ll simply laugh at your whines of too sensitive, I can’t Kyo please, keeping his steady pace and pressing a kiss against your clit that makes your hips jerk.

You can do it, he’ll tell you, slick and your cum smeared all across his lips, chin and cheeks. You can give me another one, let me make you feel good, my flame.

And even while he’s fucking you his fixation doesn’t decrease – you feel like heaven around his cock, sure, with your warm, soft walls clenching down on him and your slick coating his thighs, but that doesn’t stop his fingers from snaking up and pressing against your lips.

He'll push them inside two at a time, hot breaths against your ear telling you to suck, ngh suck for me, his hips snapping into you with more fervor as he feels your lips close around him, throat tightening and your little gagging noises as he thrusts his fingers in and out.

You’re just so beautiful, and although his fixation mostly manifests as him using his mouth on you, he certainly won’t deny you if you were to flip the script. You get on your knees for him, licking your lips and pawing at his cock over his pants?

The pants are off faster than you can blink, his hand already at the back of your head and guiding you down his length, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lets out a low groan of yes, o-oh, you’re so warm, I’ve been thinking of this all day-!

He won’t deny you when you press kisses against his exposed chest, your tongue tracing around his sensitive nipple and feeling the skin pebble, even grazing your teeth against the sensitive skin just to hear his breath hitch and the audible gulp that follows.

He just thinks the ultimate form of intimacy is to taste each other, and Kyojuro is always eager to get closer to you, and to prove just how much he loves you – and, of course, just how depraved you make him.

Breeding

Kyojuro will get you pregnant. It’s not even a matter of discussion as far as he’s concerned – yes, it’s a sexual fantasy for him to stuff you so full of his cum that you’re literally leaking it, but it’s more than that. He genuinely wants to build a family with you, to have you as his sweet little housewife that he dotes on and provides for and cares for, and to complete the fantasy he needs a few children running around.

He gets this dopey grin and blushing cheeks when he imagines you with a toddler clutching at your leg and a baby nursing at your breast, something inside his chest swelling with pride and happiness. And so, every time he fucks you he will be finishing inside, stuffing you as full as he physically can.

The image of you pregnant gets his breathing shallow; something about seeing you round, your breasts swollen and nipples so sensitive you sharply gasp when he so much as brushes against them making him shift his pants, his skin feeling hot and clammy. He likes the idea of knocking you up so that you’re completely, utterly dependent on him for every little thing – you’ll be so sweet and lovely and incapable, allowing him to attend to your every need. You’ll need him to walk any significant distance, to reach things on high shelves, to help you get up and out of chairs, to help with anything, really, and Kyojuro is more than happy to aid you in your time of need.

But even outside of actually getting you pregnant, the kink also satisfies some of his more shameful needs, some of his more masculine and carnal needs. After all, breeding you means coming inside you, filling you to the brim with his cum, something only he can provide you.

There’s just something about the idea of leaving you full with something so utterly him that gets him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching eagerly because just the thought makes him desperate to get his hands on you. He's not too terribly possessive, all things considered, but something about the idea of his cum settling inside you just feels right in a way he can’t describe, almost as if you were made to take it. As if you were made to take him, really, if the way your perfect little pussy sucks him in so well is any indication.

Besides, every time he finishes inside he’ll pull back and just stare, watching with bright eyes at the way his cum slowly dribbles out of you, white staining against the curve of your ass, his fingers coming up to scoop up the leaking bits and stuff them back inside you.

(And he will finish inside every time he fucks you, and even when your fist is wrapped around his girth or your lips are pressed against his base, tip making you gag at how deep he is in your throat. He’ll warn you with a near-yell of ‘m close before pushing you down and spreading your legs so quickly that it knocks the breath out of you, nestling his tip just inside you and coming, the sheer volume and force of the spurts making you squirm because you can feel it.)

There’s lots of talk about how you mustn’t waste anything he gives you, how you must keep every last drop inside you, his voice strained and breathy as he groans that into your ear, a thrust punctuating each word and making you clutch onto him for dear life because he’s fucking you meanly, every clap of his hips against yours making you physically scoot up until you reach the edge of the bed.

There’s something about the idea of stuffing you full of his cum that makes Kyojuro near feral, his hips seeming to have a mind of their own as they snap and pound against you, his cock pushing deeper and deeper and deeper, tip nestling further inside you with every thrust.

While he’s fucking you, the only thing running through his mind (aside from the constant stream of compliments towards you and the indescribable feeling of how fucking warm you are) is a mantra of needing to get deeper, to go as far inside you as he can, to press right up against your womb so that when his abs flex and his pace stutters, a shallow gasp and low groan rolling past his lips, his cum can shoot directly where it needs to go. It can spurt and splatter and flood your cute little pussy, each twitch of his cock giving you more and more and more, until it’s literally leaking out of you, even while he’s still stuffed inside you.

And Kyojuro, ever the talkative lover, is more than happy to narrate the process – his orgasms always follow a rather wanton groan of your name, his voice strained and uneven as he tells you to take it, o-oh take it take it take it, take every fucking drop ngh yes yes yes!

He’ll press down on your stomach as he finishes, the sensation making you impossibly tighter, the motion forcing his cum to shoot even deeper into you, his eyes wide in wonder and lust as if he can see the way his cock is twitching and throbbing, pushing out everything it can give you.

His voice nearly awed as he asks if you feel that, my love? I’m breeding this lovely pussy, does it feel good? It’s feels likes heaven for me, and soon you’ll be rounded and glowing and carrying my child.

He’ll pause to press a kiss against your nipple, tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin, before cupping it with his hand and squeezing, his own voice turning a bit darker as he tells you that soon your breasts will be so swollen and heavy, you’ll be feeding our child, nursing our baby…

He sucks at your nipple, hard. I’m sure you’ll taste divine – you’ll give me a taste too, I’m sure.

He’ll run his hand along your stomach, sucking in a sharp breath and telling you that you’ll be full soon, that you’ll be swollen and big and his, your body proving to him exactly who you belong to, exactly who kisses you and fucks you and gives you what your body is made for.

He just really, really wants a family with you, so don’t be surprised when he forces you to lay by his side for hours after sex, his cock keeping you stuffed full, not allowing a single drop of cum to leak out, his hand pressed firmly against your stomach as he rambles on and on about baby names and how he’ll be there for the entire birth, how he hopes the baby has his hair and your personality, how he’ll protect the both of you from demons until his dying breath.

It would be sweet, really, if he wasn’t so insistent, if he didn’t have twenty names already picked out for you to choose from, if he wasn’t telling you that according to Shinobu the part of your cycle you’re currently in is your highest window of fertility, if he wasn’t clutching onto you and saying when you’re pregnant instead of if.

And when his cock slowly hardens once more inside of you, you’ll feel the palpable change in the air as he kisses your neck again, his hips slowly starting to move as he tells you that he has to make sure it took, I have to make sure you’re carrying my child… Open your legs for me, my flame, let me give you more of me.

And when he comes with a gasp of your name a few minutes later, even more cum flooding you and sending some dripping down over his cock and onto his pelvis, Kyojuro can only lick his lips, the sight of you with a rounded belly and swollen breasts making him near feral.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Marking

While Kyojuro isn’t the most possessive, there’s something about the idea of physically marking you as his that gets his blood rushing, heat blooming on his cheeks, a wide grin splitting across his face.

Just the thought get him eagerly pulling you closer, nudging his nose against your neck, sighing heavily and letting you feel the way his pants slowly grow tighter, his breathing growing heavier as he groans your name.

There’s just something about the idea of claiming you as his own that makes some primal, animalistic part of him light up, so be prepared to be absolutely covered in marks as your sexual relationship progresses.

Hickeys will cover nearly all of your skin, leaving no area untouched by his lips and teeth. He’ll leave love marks (as he calls them) in the shape of a heart situated on the plane of your chest, nestled right up your breasts. As he’s fucking you he’ll kiss over the area again, his hips never slowing their pace as he starts whispering your name under his breath, nearly chanting it with every clap his balls against the curve of your ass.

A ‘K’ and an ‘R’ are placed on your inner thighs, so that when he sits beside you he can reach over and grip the area, sending you a blinding grin and telling you that even under all the layers of clothing he can feel your love. Once the marks fade he’ll spend hours between your legs again, remaking the hickies so there’s a letter per leg, so that every time he spreads them, excitement bubbling in his chest, he’ll see his letters, a mark of ownership, a reminder that you’re his and his alone, that your pretty skin and plush thighs and that lovely little pussy of yours is completely and utterly his.

It’s just fucking hot to Kyojuro, so when he pins you down, your body nude and bared for his eyes, know that he’ll kiss you, lips working eagerly against your own, tongue coaxing yours in an effort to get you to engage, groans and grunts tumbling into your mouth as his hands wander down to grope at your breasts, squeezing your side, toying with the pubic hair settled on your navel.

He’ll kiss you, then let his lips travel down, dipping to your neck to suck harshly against the skin, then down to your collarbone to lick and suckle, then to your nipples to bruise the area beside your areolas, then down your stomach and to your thighs, mumbling praises and sweet words of affirmation as he goes.

You’ll wince and avoid looking at yourself in mirrors after he’s through with you, but just know that Kyojuro does it all out of love.

He doesn’t enjoy hurting you, but the pleasure and pride that swells in his chest when he sees you with his markings outweighs his small worries at your bruising.

Just let it happen, really, because he’ll be getting his way, one way or the other, and while eventually the dull throb and sting as he works section after section will grow slightly painful, at least his fingers are talented – after all, you can handle the hickies when he’s making you gasp his name, cream on his fingers and beg for more, more, more, right?

Choking

While Kyojuro is generally the more dominant partner in bed (regardless of your personal tastes – he likes to feel like your provider, so even if you want to peg him until he’s a sobbing, begging mess, little mewls of your name and p-please, need to come so bad slipping past his lips, you’ll likely be the one trapped below him), there’s a certain allure to letting you take charge for a night every few weeks, letting you take the reigns for a few minutes.

There’s something oddly sexy about watching the way the power slowly goes to your head, how your eyes grow darker, your actions more passionate as you bounce up and down on top of him, your hands planted against his chest, pinching at his nipples, shoving your tongue down his throat all while he groans and enjoys the view.

He just likes to see the way you use him, his body simply a toy for you to get off on. It’s the ultimate form of caring for you – and seeing the way you’re so unabashedly pleasuring yourself gets his blood pumping so hard he can hear it in his ears, the sight of you so raw and natural and not at all the shy little thing you were when he first spread your legs all those months ago making him lick his lips in anticipation.

And yet, there’s a certain habit you’ve developed in these moments that Kyojuro absolutely cannot get enough of – that is, when your soft fingers wrap around his throat, your skin against his, pressing just hard enough to disrupt the blood flow to his brain, the feeling dizzying and disorienting and wonderful.

His eyes literally roll to the back of his head when you do this, your hips snapping and scooping above him as you tell him to hold it in, be a good boy, don’t come yet.

He’s groaning and wildly bucking his hips, face turning slightly red as you lean down to kiss him, your lips harsh and demanding, the kiss rough and forceful.

It’s heaven, Kyojuro thinks, as you clench around him, your fingers following suit, his cock twitching inside of you, his hands coming up to grope and knead at your ass as he bounces you harder and harder, the desire to come inside you suddenly washing over him.

It’s something he finds himself craving as time goes on, and so while he’ll more often prefer to be the one on top, in charge, calling the shots, be prepared for the nights where he wants to let you do all the work.

But really, once you’re straddling him, sinking down onto his drooling, leaking tip and grinding, your hand wrapped around his throat, he’ll often do most of the ‘work’ – desperate, sad little humps up into you with his heels planted against the futon mat that’ll leave you gasping and going limp, his cock reaching parts of you unexplored by your own fingers.

And when you lean down over him, your pretty face just inches away from his own flushed you’re your fingers wrapped around his neck, Kyojuro will eagerly obey when you tell him to open wide, his cock throbbing inside you as your spit lands against his tongue, your taste and the lewd sight of you spitting in his mouth making his orgasm hurtle towards him. As soon as he eagerly swallows his eyes are going wide, his words rushed and slurred and strained as he tells you that it’s so fucking good, oh here it comes, shit it’s coming, it – it’s-!

He just really, really likes the way it feels to have your pretty fingers around such a vulnerable area, so get used to it – because Kyojuro is a passionate man, and as his lover, you must be just as passionate, too.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

As a general rule, Kyojuro is vocal about every sexual desire he has with you. He doesn’t believe in keeping secrets, especially in the context of sex where you could both be benefitting.

He wants to share every explicit, lewd fantasy he has of you simply because he thinks you might enjoy it – you might have even been dreaming of doing the same thing, you were just too shy to tell him.

(He knows how you are – how you’re so very shy, always seeming to skirt away from him when he nears you, your wide-eyed looks you send him when he’s talking to you, how your hands are clammy and you’re shaking ever so slightly when he pulls you in for a kiss with far too much tongue.)

And so, Kyojuro is open and honest; painfully so, really. He wakes up one morning with you in his arms, your eyes already open as he leans in and kisses the shell of your ear, sighing and pressing his navel against your ass, telling you in that husky morning voice of his that he’d dreamed about tasting you until you cry, my flame, doesn’t that sound nice?

(And of course, you’ll not be leaving that bed for hours after the fantasy is spoken out into the air – Kyojuro is nothing if not determined, and his tongue seems to never tire.) After returning home from a mission, he’s announcing to you that he’d passed by a risqué local shop and saw a drawing of a man and a woman where the woman was on top and oh, why didn’t you tell him that women sometimes enjoyed being the more dominant partner?

You’ll be left to flounder, unsure of how to respond, but it’s too late because Kyojuro is already laying down on his back, his pants pulled down to his knees and his expression eager, the smile across his lips blinding as he tells you to come here, my love, the woman in the drawing looked to be enjoying herself, and I want to see that on you as well!

However, because he has no sexual experience before you, he doesn’t harbor any particularly intense fantasies for you. He’s excited and aroused by the simple, straight-forward sex that he knows produces a child – missionary, mostly, or positions that involve spreading your legs and maintaining eye contact while he slides in, a hand cupping your cheek while he groans and tells you in a strained voice that you’re so beautiful, you feel so – ngh, so good!

And so, after a one-off chat with Tengen about wifely matters (he’s announced to the other Hashira that he has a wife, though none of them have met you or know that you aren’t actually his partner, just the woman he considers to be his wife), Kyojuro asks with complete sincerity if his friend has any advice in the bedroom.

Tengen had just laughed and clapped Kyojuro’s back, telling him that sex should be flashy, so don’t do the same things over and over! Mix things up – women love variety, so try some new positions, or a different method of pleasuring her!

When asked what other positions to try, Tengen had grinned, his eyes widening a bit as he said bend her over, she’ll feel you deeper and the view will drive you crazy.

And so, that night after coming home to you, he’d gulped, his eyes narrowing in on your ass, his voice a bit gruff as he told you to come with me, my love, I want to try something new.

“Are you comfortable?” Kyojuro asks, though he sounds distracted.

Swallowing, you nod, embarrassment clear on your face. This position was beyond humiliating – Kyojuro hadn’t explained much when he approached you earlier in the evening, simply looking at you with those unblinking eyes and telling you to get undressed because he had something new he wanted to try out.

And now, here you are, on your hands and knees on your shared bed, clothing neatly folded in a corner of the room. It’s cold, and the air is making goosebumps prickle along your skin and your nipples stiff.

If Kyojuro notices you shiver, he doesn’t say anything – instead, you hear him gulp, the sound suddenly much closer.

“You’re very beautiful…” He whispers, so quiet and unlike him that it makes you glance back over your shoulder. The sight you’re met with makes your embarrassment deepen, a mixture of shame and bashfulness seeping into your every bone.

He’s standing behind you, those wide eyes of his fixated on your exposed cunt, with his cock in hand. Thick fingers wrap around his base, visibly squeezing, his balls periodically twitching even without being touched. He looks entranced – awed, almost, presumably by the sight of your ass presented on display like this.

“Kyojuro…” You start, anxious to just get started so he’ll stop staring at you like you’re something holy and sacred. Wiggling your hips, you hope he’ll get the message.

Instead, you hear a muffled groan and suddenly feel air brushing against your sensitive folds, the sensation making your arms feel a bit weak. You feel a sudden slimy warmth, and wet noises ring in your ears as Kyojuro presses his tongue against you, dipping in briefly to taste and rub at anything he can reach. Heavy breaths are muffled against your cunt, but the insistent press of his chin against your clit makes it difficult to focus.

“Kyo – oh, Kyo please need you to fuck me, don’t tease me.” Your whines make him pause for a moment, before he slowly pulls back, pressing a single long kiss against your folds that has you biting your lip.

“Very well, you’ll have to tell me how it feels, love. Tell me everything you’re feeling.” He asks, gripping his base again and rubbing the tip through your folds, collecting your slick at the tip. His breathing is still loud, the way he’s sucking in air through clenched teeth making it obvious just how strongly the sight of you bent over and exposed like this is affecting him.

You look gorgeous – he’s intimately familiar with what’s between your legs, of course, but this view feels so lewd. He can see your pretty hole clenching every few moments, tufts of hair decorating the pretty sight, and he can even see your other hole, the one you always tell him not to touch with a squeak and a slap of his hand.

Soon he’s swallowing hard and pressing himself inside, the breath sucked out of his lungs because somehow you feel tighter like this, your cunt seeming to suck him in so tightly that it almost hurts, the sensation making his knees buckle slightly.

And you’re certainly not helping, either – as you’d promised him you’re gasping, telling him in an airy voice, “It’s so big – you’re so big, Kyo, fuck you’ve never felt so big, I can’t – you have to wait a second, please, ‘s too much-!”

And he does, with bared teeth and hands that find purchase at your ass, just as Tengen had told him to do. He’s groping at the soft flesh, grabbing handfuls and pulling them apart to get a full view. A whine slips out of him at the lewd sight of his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, the angle letting him see just how you stretch to accommodate him, even seeing the edges of his balls pressed against your thighs. It’s just too much, and as soon as your shaky ‘okay’ registers, Kyojuro’s immediately thrusting.

And the sight of him moving is even more erotic – pulling out of you and seeing the ring of white coating his base makes him lean more of his weight against you, trying to get more leverage as he thrusts back in so that he can fuck you harder, wanting to get impossibly deeper to feel more and more of you. He’s entranced, watching with wide eyes the way he appears and disappears inside of you again and again, almost lost in a trance.

Your noises have him grunting, the desperate whines and rhythmic gasps every time he sinks back into you making his orgasm come creeping up much too quickly. He’s just too overwhelmed, your pretty moans and cries of his name making his head spin.

Soon he’s bringing a leg up and pressing his foot flat against the ground, gaining better leverage and an angle that makes you scream, your cunt squeezing down on him so tightly that he struggles to pull back to just his tip. He’s seen animals do this in the wild – he’s fucking you like an animal would, mounting you and grasping at your waist to pull you back against him harder, anything and everything to get him deeper inside, to reach a part of you that he’s sure no man or even you have touched.

You’re just too damn pretty, and as he gasps your name and clutches onto you tightly enough to leave bruises while ropes of runny cum fill you, Kyojuro decides that he needs to try out all the other positions Tengen had told him about – perhaps he’ll try something called 69 with you tomorrow.

Maybe that’ll get you to scream his name like this ‘Doggy’ has.

#yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere rengoku #kny smut #_lee's profiles #_kny #_kyojuro rengoku #rengoku x reader #rengoku smut

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nmn-yty · 9 months ago

Text

— ๋࣭ ⭑࿐ first time ｡o♡⋆˚｡⋆.

read part 1: here!!!

pairing: lee know x reader

summary: caring for a bunny seemed harder than you thought

word count: 1.7k

a/n: back at it again! ik ive said it so many times throughout my blog but im truly thankful for all the likes and reblogs(◞‸◟)♡ this will not be the last of my bunny lee know endeavor but stay tuned for more hybrid, skz, and kpop stories in the meantime! also keep in mind that ive never owned any pets so the animal behavior is based on memory of things ive seen online, dont come for me pls>< anyways, i hope this one lives up to the hype of the first part, enjoy!!! (also i apologize for not posting sooner><)

+ stylized lowercase, missing punctuation (not done on purpose), and minimal revisions

a few days in and the days seemed to get harder and harder for you. not because minho was causing you any trouble, but because the fluttery feeling in your stomach kept growing the more you spent time with him. it was scary how perfect he was in every way.

you were sitting on your couch enjoying a nice hot drink, when the familiar sound of thumping on the wood floor caught your attention. you looked down to find a playful bunny minho. he was scurrying around your feet, even moving his paws to your legs.

"what's wrong?" you set your drink down on the table in front of you.

minho kept on pawing at your legs. you reached down to pick him up, placing him in your lap.

"i can't understand you when you're in the form, you know?"

he looked up at you with a nonchalant expression, you expected nothing out of him. before you knew it, you had a hybrid minho sitting in your lap bridal style, hands wrapped around your neck. the weight and size change startled you, but he loved to tease you and transform whenever he pleased.

"can i please go outside for a bit?" he was really bouncy and sounded out of breath. you had to remind yourself that he was a wild animal. although you took him in to stay in your house, his animal instincts couldn't be suppressed.

"okay, but only for a little-" he cut your sentence off by changing back into a bunny, still knocking you off guard.

he scurried off your lap and towards the back hallway, scratching at the door for you to open it. he looked back at you with those big dark eyes. they always sparkled perfectly in the right lighting. seeing him being all hyper as an animal was truly so endearing. you've always wanted someone like him in your life. the universe definitely planned out your lives to be intertwined.

you rolled your eyes from his fast movements and got up. the second you opened the door wide enough for him to fit, he dashed out onto the grass. it has still been snowy for the past couple of days, but today the grass held a light layer of snow from earlier that day.

he was hopping around the entire yard, sniffing around bushes, chewing on some of the obtainable food he could get his mouth on. you could see the footprints and tracks beginning to circle around the snow. the whole surface of your yard was being fully inspected by him.

you couldn't help but sit down by the steps of your back porch. hugging your knees in admiration, you followed minho's path all throughout the whole time you were out there. you couldn't help but get flustered about the racing thoughts in your mind. something as simple as watching him be comfortable in his environment made you feel at ease.

what you didn't know was minho found himself wanting to be human more for the both of you. it was exhausting for him at times, but he couldn't help but laugh with you, smile with you, feel with you. he never got to experience these moments with anyone before. he wanted each adventure with you to last for hours.

he looked up to find you staring at him, which made his heart race faster than it normally should. draining energy fast, he flopped on his back, waving his paws and feet in the air. getting a chuckle out of you from the distance, he felt satisfied. the sudden urge to dig overwhelmed his thoughts, getting back to his feet and digging straight down from where he was standing.

luckily, you had your mind to distract you from his actions. he started to go feral, getting the dirt and snow all over his face.

drifting away from your daydream, you found your white fluffy bunny turning brown from the dirt and snow.

"minho, no!" you quickly ran over to him, making him realize he was likely in big trouble. thinking two steps ahead, he dove out of your attempt to grab him. shocked and stunned, you still chased after him. he was running steadily back towards the house. the universe was on your side though, as the back door was closed and all minho could do was try to reach up and grab the handle. however, being in his small form, he failed miserably.

"cmon silly," you bent down to grab the squirming animal in your arms, the warmth from your body making him docile and shut down.

once you got to the bathroom upstairs, you gently set minho on the floor. his eyes were slowly closing and he tried his best to keep them open again. before he could fall asleep, he jolted himself awake, which unfortunately turned him into his hybrid form.

"do you want me to take my clothes off so you can bathe me?"

his question made you whip your head around in shock, stuttering nonsense to try and distract yourself from the image of himself being naked in front of you.

"dont be difficult... turn into a bunny so i can wash you quickly."

he let out a small whine, almost like it was his plan all along to get dirty and have this scenario go his way.

you crossed your arms and gave him a dissatisfied look. you weren't really mad at him, you just wanted the day to end quicker so you two could snuggle in bed together.

one big movement turned him small again, he hopped onto your legs, as you had knelt down to get comfortable. you turned on the water in your bathtub and ran some warm water about two or three inches from the bottom. placing him inside the tub, you grabbed a cup to scoop up the water onto his body. the first rinse was quick, he even shook some water off himself like a dog which made you smile.

the scrubbing process also went by fast, working your fingers gently through his coat, the dirt coming off completely. you picked up the cup again, filling it with water. washing the soap away, he shook his body again, trying to dry up as fast as he could.

"calm down minho! ill dry you off in a second."

the water beginning to flow down the drain, you picked up a sopping wet minho from the tub and placed him on the rug next to you. the towel to dry him was hanging on the side of the tub. you laid it flat against your lap, picking him up again and placing him on top of the towel.

you wrapped him up in the towel, trying your best not to cover up his face. you patted and rubbed the cloth into his body, making sure to cover all the spots. his ears, his tail, and his paws all becoming dry and fluffy again.

he hopped off of your lap, turning to his hybrid form. this time you expected something from that big of a leap. you were starting to learn and master his behaviors. he was sat on the floor facing you. for some reason, his hair and ears were still wet in this form. he held one of his ears out, squeezing it to wring out the remaining water off himself. you got to your knees and threw the towel over his head. going a little harder this time, you scrubbed his hair dry to the best of your ability. you noticed him closing his eyes in comfort, especially when you got to his ears.

he looked up at you through his messy hair. he hummed softly, he was so happy you were taking such good care of him. not noticing at all, when you removed the towel his bunny ears went away. he was noticeably more dry and your job was done. you turned around slightly to drape the towel on the tub again.

he let out a cute yawn, so ready to flop into bed and get some sleep. when you turned back around you couldn't help but notice some brown specks on his face. did he have freckles this whole time and you were just too star struck to notice? you reached out to rub his face, making him freeze and have his full semi-conscious attention to your actions. the specks turned to brown streaks against his skin.

"youve been digging so much in the dirt, come here."

he scooted over to you, patiently waiting for anything to happen next. you realized now his nose and cheeks were lightly covered in dirt. you reached over for a new towel and quickly turned the faucet on to run some water on it. swiping the warm cloth on his cheeks, his face became very pink. you didn't know if it was because of the pressure you applied to his face, or if he was actually having some emotional reaction to this.

his gaze was so sensual, almost like his mind had gone to mush and he could only display emotions of pure submission. his thoughts became chaotic, trying to resist the urge to tackle you and have you all to himself.

after a while you could feel your face burning up, scared about any of his next moves or words.

"why are you looking at me like that?" the dirt was almost gone. you moved closer to his face, only inches away in order to get the last bits off.

minho didn't answer you, instead he stared more intensely at you, patiently waiting for you to finish. putting the towel down, you gently rubbed the wetness off his face. even more skin to skin contact was making him lose control. the hue of pink showing from his face becoming almost cartoon like.

"mm tired," his eyes began to droop again. he wanted his last conscious thought to be that he was secure next to you. as dramatic as ever, he laid out his body in your lap, slowly beginning to drift off and finally recharge.

this feeling was starting to become a natural occurrence in your daily lives. whether he was a small bunny, a cute hybrid, or a human who could actually sweep you off your feet, you had him. he felt safe around you and wanted to be near you. using one hand to meet his hand, rubbing it gently to soothe him, you used your other hand to play with his hair. even as a human, he was still soft and cuddly. you bent down to place a small kiss on his head, making him nuzzle himself deeper into you.

part 3 is up! click here!!!

♥︎taglist: @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lunathewonyoungstan @syedazarintasnim @yourlocalstayyxi @mmarusa @yukichan67 @qwonyoung23 @cupidcures @verynormalsstuff @leezanetheofficial

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babyhatesreality · 3 months ago

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Could you write something where there’s an emergency and stucky have to go help and reader is being so brave in the safe room? Or something else.. I trust you💗💗

Over a year later....I'm sorry for the delay. Please believe me it eats at me. Hope you're still around for this, and I love you <3

Take One Down

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x Little!F!Reader, featuring big Peter

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, language, pet names, attack on the Tower during the night, Bucky is armed, slight alcohol reference, angsty/scared baby, a few tears, safe room. Happy Ending- always :)

A/N- also Happy Birthday to me :D

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

The first thing you became aware of was that Papa was breathing hard. And you were in his arms.

Then you realized you weren't in bed, and you were moving. Fast.

"Papa?" you whimpered sleepily, not being awake enough to understand what was happening.

"Shh, shh, it's okay baby, you're okay," Papa said instantly, pressing a quick kiss in your hair. Despite his soothing words, he didn't slow his pace at all.

You forced your heavy eyelids to open, and then almost immediately shut them again as the flashing red lights in the hallway were too bright. You were still in your pajamas, but you definitely weren't at home. Steve could feel that you were waking up and becoming more alert, but he couldn't stop. He had to get you to safety.

"Where's Daddy?" you asked, your voice trembling as you started to realize something was wrong. "Daddy okay?"

"Right here, Trouble," came Daddy's voice from farther away. You tried to twist in Papa's arms to see where Daddy was, but Papa's iron grip on you didn't leave much purchase.

"It's okay, princess, you're safe, but I need you to be a good girl and be quiet for us right now, okay?" Steve said, deliberately keeping his voice calm and low even through the exertion of running.

"'Kay," you said as quietly as you could, holding on to Papa tightly, shutting your eyes tightly, and trying to be brave. Steve kissed your hair again and kept running.

Within 30 seconds, you felt Steve stop. You opened your eyes and looked around. It took you a second, but you recognized this place. You'd been here before, back when you very first came to live with Steve and Bucky. You were in the panic room.

The reinforced steel walls were made slightly less intimidating by the giant sofa that could convert into a bed, the soft rug that nearly covered every inch of floor, and the overwhelming amount of toys and stuffed animals in baskets and boxes all around the edge of one wall. You hadn't been here in a while, but you could never forget this place.

Your eyes darted all around, trying to get some answers or understanding as to what happened, but before it came to you, Steve set you down carefully on your feet and took you gently by the shoulders. You heard Bucky shut and lock the door, but before you could turn to look Steve gently guided your face back towards his.

"Katie-Cat, I need you to listen to me, okay?" Steve said, looking you very seriously and directly in the eye. "Someone is in the Tower. Someone who's not supposed to be here. We don't know how they got in, but right now, we need to keep you safe so we can go get them out. Do you understand?"

"I- yes, Papa," you said shakily. You swallowed your nerves down and tried to be brave.

"Good girl," Steve said, as a fierce wave of protectiveness rushed through him. "Peter is on his way, and he's going to stay in here with you and keep you safe while Daddy and I go get the person out. Okay?"

"Petey coming?"

"Yes."

"He don't need to fight?"

"Right now, he needs to keep you safe, that's his most important job."

"But...who gonna keep him safe?"

"He's Big Peter right now, munchkin- he's going to be okay. Can you be a good girl and listen to what Peter says and do what he tells you to?"

"Um- yeah. Papa-" "Good girl. You remember the rules of the safe room?"

"Papa..."

"The rules, Katie-Cat."

"Don't leave the room unless you, Daddy, or Aunt Nat comes to get me, don't open the door for nobody, and....and be good."

"That's my girl," Steve said, his heart both proud and shattered that you had to know these things.

"Papa?" you tried again.

"Yes?"

"You gonna come back, right? You and Daddy?" you asked in a small voice. Steve pulled you into his chest immediately in the biggest bear hug.

"Yes, baby," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Daddy and I will always come back for you. Always."

Just then, you felt another pair of arms wrap around you two. "Try and keep us away, Trouble," Daddy added in a light, joking tone, but even you could feel the tension underneath it. "Here, I brought you someone who can help you too." Bucky reached behind him and pulled Jellybean out of his back pocket, where he had unceremoniously stuffed her as he and Steve were racing to get you out of the apartment.

You gasped sharply, and pulled your beloved bunny in so tightly to your face that her little button nose left a slight imprint on your cheek. "Tank you Daddy," you said, trying hard not to cry. "AND tank you Papa for carryin' me," you added quickly, not wanting him to feel left out. Both men responded by hugging you tighter.

Just then, the panic room door clicked, announcing that someone else was coming in. Bucky immediately dropped his arms and spun so you and Steve were behind him, his gun appearing in his hand as if by magic. However, once he saw that it was Tony and Peter, he instantly lowered the gun and ran to bolt the door back behind them.

"Pete, you sure you're good?" Tony asked immediately the second the door was shut.

"I'm good Dad, I swear," Peter said. You looked at him wide-eyed- it had been a while since you had heard his big voice.

"Okay. Only if you're sure," Tony pressed.

"I'm sure. I wouldn't take a chance if I wasn't."

"Atta boy."

Tony turned towards the three of you to find Steve smiling at him. "That's good enough for me," Steve said kindly to Peter. "But if there's any trouble at all, and I mean anything, you radio us. Copy?"

"Copy," Peter nodded quickly. "I'll link with your comms now," he said, before pulling out the large, black case from underneath the sleeper bed sofa. He quickly opened the case and got to work on a radio comm.

You watched him carefully. He was so...different and serious when he was Big- not the silly, carefree bestie you immediately recognized- so it was always surprising to you when you saw it. Of course, YOUR definition of 'serious' was much, much different than Tony's or Steve's or Bucky's, but that didn't matter now, as you watched Peter's fingers fly over the machinery.

"Okay, we should be linked," he said into the comm. All three men immediately nodded, confirming that they could hear him in their earpieces. Steve and Bucky spun back to you.

"Do what Peter says. We'll be back as soon as we can," Daddy said gruffly, taking your face in his hands and pressing a long kiss to your forehead. "We love you so much. Be good, got it?"

"Got it," you said, trying to match his gruff tone to show him you could be serious too. That made the ghost of a smile cross his lips, and as Steve kissed you too, it stayed. Tony even came over, quickly, giving you what he hoped was a carefree grin.

"Alright, have fun, stay safe. Don't tap the keg unless you really need to," he said, tapping your nose and grinning when you looked confused and Steve tutted loudly. Bucky was the last one out the door, and before he left, he turned to Peter.

"You remember the code word?" he asked the young man brusquely. Peter nodded, but due to the door being opened, didn't say it. "Good job," Bucky said with that faint grin again, closing and locking the door behind him.

It was deathly silent in the room. You swallowed hard, gripping Jellybean tightly, almost afraid to move, even though you knew you were in the safest spot imaginable (outside of your daddies' arms). Peter immediately noticed your distress.

"Hey Katie, hey Little One," he said softly, holding out his arms to you. "You wanna come here?"

You nodded, then slowly walked towards him. You cautiously stepped into his arms. Once he folded them around you, you inhaled. His scent never changed, no matter if he was big or small, and you knew this was your Petey, no matter how he was feeling right now. You threw your arms around him and hugged him back tightly, and felt him give a soft chuckle. "It's okay, you're okay. I'm gonna keep you safe- you know that, right?"

You pulled back a bit, nodding. "Tank you, Petey. I mean...Peter."

Peter smiled. "Ah, that's okay. You can call me Petey right now if you want to."

"I can?"

"Sure you can."

"Otay Petey," you said, suddenly feeling a little better upon hearing that. "What's happenin' in da Tower?"

"What did Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky tell you?" Peter asked carefully.

"Um, dat someone got in dat wasn't a'sposed to be in?"

"That's right. And they'll get 'em out, so you don't have to worry about them anymore, okay?"

"Um....okay," you said, wanting to trust Peter with your whole heart, but still uncertain due to the nature of the circumstance. Peter saw pretty quickly that he would need to distract you.

"Hey, you wanna sit on the couch and read some stories while we wait?" He trotted over to the box containing tons of books and started pawing through them. "You can pick out whichever stories you want. Okay?"

Curiosity peaked, you trotted over to look. You recognized The Gruffalo and Frozen, pointing at them. "I like those!" you said excitedly, and Peter snatched them up.

"Let's get to reading!" he said. "Race you to the couch!"

Since it was only a couple feet away, it wasn't much of a race, but it was still fun. It was always fun when you got to run. You both jumped onto the couch enthusiastically, and Peter opened up the first book and began to read. You inched closer and closer to him as he continued, eventually snuggling into his side, your thumb in your mouth and Jellybean in the crook of your arm.

He finished off Frozen in about ten minutes, then turned to you. "Alright, Katie, you ready for...THE GRUFFALO??" he said in a mock scary voice that made you laugh. But once you stopped laughing at his silliness, you had another question in mind.

"Petey, what's a keg?" you asked innocently.

Poor Peter nearly broke his neck doing a double take. "Wh-what?" he asked, not sure of what he heard. When he was in little space with you, your random questions and changes of subject made perfect sense to him, but when he was bigger it was hard to keep up sometimes.

"Unca Tony said don't tap da keg unless we needed to. What's a keg?"

"It's nothing....he was just being silly. Let's read."

"Is a weapon?"

"No...it's....hey, look, books. Let's read."

"But what IS it?"

"Ahhhh...it's....you know....it's...hey, you wanna sing a song?" Peter said, loudly and excitedly, hoping the non-sequitur would distract you.

It worked. "What kind of song?" you asked, intrigued.

"Umm..." Peter thought quickly, trying to get your mind off of what a keg was. He felt a flicker of compassion for Uncle Steve whenever his Dad did this to you, but mostly he was trying to come up with a song. "Hey, do you know Ninety Nine Bottles of...." he said suddenly, his brain both working and failing him miserably all at the same time.

"Bottles of what?" you asked, now completely invested. Peter broke out in a cold sweat. He couldn't teach you a song about beer, for goodness' sake.

"Did I say bottles? That was silly. I meant...boxes. Yeah, boxes!...of... juice! That was it! Ninety Nine boxes of juice on the wall! Do you know that song?" he improvised wildly. You tilted your head, trying to think, but then shook it.

"How's it go?"

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly. He wasn't much of a singer, but he knew he was going to have to give it a go if he had any hope of distracting you from asking about kegs. Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky would rip his head off if he told you, and he knew that you were stubborn enough to keep asking. But man...he REALLY didn't want to sing and embarrass himself in front of you....

Just then, you both heard a loud crash coming from somewhere below. It was loud enough that it made you both jump, even though the room didn't even shudder. Peter watched as your face turned pale and you gripped your bunny tighter. You pinched your lips together and breathed slowly. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were trying to calm down and being as brave as you could be. His heart melted for you.

And he found his courage in that.

"So...the song," he said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to regain your attention and hopefully calm you a bit. "It goes..." he coughed again, took a deep breath, and went for it. "Ninety nine boxes of juice on the wall....ninety nine boxes of juice....you take one down and pass it around...ninety eight boxes of juice on the wall!"

You blinked at him, wide-eyed, and waited for the rest. He looked back at you hopefully to see how this was going down.

"Short song," you said, tilting your head, confused. Peter rolled his eyes and chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A short time later, Steve and Bucky were finishing sweeping their own floor and apartment. "Clear," Steve said definitively into the comm. "Natasha, Tony, Thor, what's your status?"

When everyone came through confirming the all-clear, Fury came through the line. "Rogers, Barnes, Stark- go get 'em." It was all the permission they needed.

Steve got their first, but instead of punching the code in immediately, he stopped and stared at the door. "Steve?" Bucky asked in a tense voice, instantly on alert. To his immense surprise, Steve turned to him, a look of astonished humor on his face.

"Buck, listen," he whispered. Bucky strained his ears...and then couldn't believe what he was hearing. The room was sound proofed, but hey- they were super soldiers.

"Twenty-three boxes of juice on the wall, twenty-three boxes of juuuuuicceeeee...."

Bucky punched in the code. The second before he touched the keypad though, he heard Peter's voice cut off suddenly, and then within .5 seconds, your voice cut off too. The button panel lit up green and the door unbolted. Bucky threw the door open, Steve right behind him.

Peter was standing in the middle of the room, his suit in the last phase of forming around him, in his classic Spiderman pose. Bucky raised his hands immediately.

"Password?" Peter asked firmly.

"Trouble," Bucky replied immediately. Peter instantly relaxed and stood up straight, his suit disappearing, knowing for sure this was Bucky. "Good job Peter," Bucky said gratefully, even as he and Steve were rushing to the secret panel they knew you were hiding in. The second they slid the door back, you threw yourself into their waiting arms.

Bucky held you so tight you could feel his every breath, and Steve kept kissing your hair and murmuring what a good girl you were. Eventually, you looked over and saw Tony and Peter in an embrace as well, Tony clapping his young charge on the back proudly.

"Are you okay, angel?" Steve asked you, his eyes lovingly scanning your face. You nodded happily.

"Yeah, Papa! We good! Did you get the bad guys?"

"We sure did."

"YAY!! Who was dey? How did dey get in? What did-"

"Okay, angel, that's too many questions for a little girl right now," Steve said gently, nuzzling your nose with his. "We're safe and it's time to go home. Can we go say goodbye and thank you to Peter?"

You nodded again, suddenly very sleepy from all the receding adrenaline. Bucky carried you over to Tony and Peter.

"She was so good and brave, Dad," Peter was saying enthusiastically to Tony. "She picked out books and sang and we jumped on the couch and everything!"

"You did so good, buddy, I couldn't be more proud of you," Tony said, his seams bursting. He grinned at you as you approached. "Hey, thanks for taking it easy on the kid, little one."

"Petey was da best!! He taught me a new song. Papa, you're gonna love it!"

Steve smirked. "I'm sure I will, baby. Can you say thank you please?"

You wiggled a bit, wanting Bucky to let you down, but you gave up pretty quickly. After being separated from you during a stressful situation, Bucky didn't like to put you down for anything. You leaned forward towards Peter, however, and he accommodated you. You gave your big bestie the biggest hug you possibly could.

"Tank you for taking care of me, Petey," you said lovingly. He squeezed you back.

"Thank you for being so good, Katie!" he responded. Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder. He could hear it in Peter's voice- he was getting close to becoming small again, and he wanted to get his brave boy home. You all said your goodbyes and headed home.

You were cuddled between your daddies and asleep again before you knew it, secure in the knowledge that you were safe and loved by the best people in the galaxy.

#daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy stucky #daddy!stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky x little reader #daddy steve #daddy!steve #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve x little reader #daddy steve rogers #daddy!steve rogers #daddy steve rogers x little reader #daddy!steve rogers x little

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averagetransdaughter · 2 months ago

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A girl with a troubled home spends most of her time at her friend's house, spending more and more time there until the two of them are inseparable, the very best of friends, and she's spending more time there than at her own home. It's safe. It's comfortable. It's a little conflicting considering that her friend's mom is built like a wet dream, with an enormous ass, even bigger tits, and full lips that look like they could suck the life out of someone through their cock, but it's more of a family than she's ever had at home.

Sammy's cheeks burn with embarrassment when she accidentally calls the walking pornography that is her friend's mother (whom she had only ever referred to as Ms. Perkins) "Mom", but not for the reasons she thought she'd blush. Ms. Perkins suddenly arches her back, pushing her gigantic breasts forward, letting out a loud, desperate moan. She claws at her clothes, rushing to free her tits before she leaps on the overwhelmed girl. Sammy doesn't know what to think as she feels her friend's mom messily kiss her, tongue invading her mouth, while the biggest tits she's ever seen mash against her own breasts.

Saliva still connects them as Ms. Perkins breaks the kiss, looking down at the stunned girl. "Oh, sweetheart. I've always thought of you as a second daughter. I'm so glad you felt the same way." Sammy tries to protest or explain herself or something but the words turn to moans in her throat as her girlcock is pulled out of her jeans and smothered in warm, soft, titpussy. She bucks her hips, gushing precum, enthralled by the titfuck she had fantasized about for so long. "Oh, baby, that's it. Let it all out. Mommy's here."

The sound of the door creaking open snaps Sammy out from her daze, her head snapping to look at her best friend entering the room. Her heart thunders in her chest, trying to find some way to explain herself. Kelly laughing was not the reaction she thought she'd get. "Hah! God, mom, you're such a fucking slut." Her mother moans appreciatively, her face buried in her cleavage, lips wrapped around Sammy's cock. Sammy watches, her mind clouded in pleasure, as her friend moves behind her own mother, drags down her skirt and gives her massive ass a hard spank. "Just a heads up, Sam, mom is going to want to fuck you after this. Hope you don't mind sloppy seconds. Swear to God, though, if my new sibling has your eyes instead of mine, I'm not letting you borrow any of my makeup for at least a year." The words barely register to Sammy, her thoughts blasted out of her head by the feeling of Ms. Perkins's moaning around her cock, a reaction to being spit roasted by her two daughters. The only thing Sammy knows for sure is that she's never going back to her old house again. She likes this new family so much better.

Whoever wrote this: please start a blog.

#dahlia's mail

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velvetlilith777 · 3 months ago

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Snow Angel

Haley x Fem Reader

18+ NSFW 🪽 MDNI

Author's Note: It's entirely unrelated to this fic, but ask me how many times I listened to Snow Angel by Reneé Rap while writing this 🤭 Anyways I really hope you guys enjoy this one because it's one of my favorite works so far!

Synopsis: Haley is a summer girl at heart, you love nature in all its forms, even snow. What better way to get her to love winter than a silly, snowy escapade?

CW/TW: subby Haley, loose exhibitionism, oral (female receiving), fingering (female recieving), nipple play, slight religious imagery (a lot of angel illusions and references, nothing more), heavy pet name usage, I think that's it?

Minors and ageless blogs do not interact! I will block you.

Word Count: 2k

Dividers by: @anitalenia (bow) and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more (snow) 🖤

🎄Ficmas Masterlist! 🎄

Smut under the cut!

“Do we have to be out here? It’s a lot warmer inside, you know!” Crunchy steps quicken behind you as Haley protests your choice of activity.

“Mmhmm, but it’s not near as pretty.” You retort.

The sight of the Cindersap forest under a fresh blanket of powder is certainly a sight to behold. Pines glisten with small sparkles as light reflects off the crystals. Still silence falls over the landscape, with most animals tucked away in their little homes for the season and the snow absorbing any remaining noise.

Your pace stops, taking in the scene in front of you in awe. When you left the city all of those years ago, you knew you had always had an affinity for nature. Even still this was breathtaking beyond your imagination, like something out of an internet wanderlust post that seemed too good to be true. But this was real, and it was practically your backyard.

Your attention leaves the scene as you grin at the blonde beside you. “See! I told you it was pretty,” you beam.

She playfully purses her lips and glances away from you. “Maybe you’re right.” She drags out before closing the gap and batting her lashes at you. “But I still think I’m prettier, don’t you?”

Huffing out a laugh at her proposition you grab her hand, enclosed in a carefully chosen mitten that perfectly matches her outfit.

“Of course you are, angel.” Leaning in to place a chaste kiss on her flushed nose before continuing your thought. “But I don't think that means we shouldn't appreciate this, too.”

Giggling like a couple of school girls, you keep your hands together and stroll through the frosted forest, letting the quiet envelop you. Studying differently shaped footprints freshly marked in the snow, recounting the paths of animals still stirring despite the chill. Serenity overtaking your senses, it remains uninterrupted when the saccharine voice of your girlfriend cuts the silence.

“It really is stunning out here. I can't believe I haven't ever been in the winter.” She muses.

Your head tilts, eyes finding hers before cutting a teasing response back. “Me too, it’s literally a short walk from your house.”

Haley's face forms a fake pout at your remark, her bottom lip jutting out while the corners of her mouth creep slightly upward. Almost unable to hide the snicker creeping in at the realization.

“I know, I know. You're built for summer and tan lines, not the cold and ice.” You huff out a laugh and shake your head.

A glint of light strikes your eye, the sun reflecting off the angel wing necklace you’d gifted her, matching the endearment you frequently called her. The illuminated white gold reminding you of a wintery pastime you loved as a child.

“Hey!” A wave of excitement overtaking your voice. “Have you ever made a snow angel?”

“No, I haven't. Cold, remember?” Her eyebrow raises, grinning as she pokes back at you.

“Well that changes today!” You’re practically bouncing up and down as you drag her toward a small clearing in the woodland. It was perfect, flat with no debris and plenty of soft powder.

“Okay, want me to show you?” Crinkles forming in the corners of your eyes from how hard you’re grinning.

“I mean, I think it’s pretty self explanatory,” an affectionate laugh slips through her lips.

The pair of you lie on your backs together, ready to craft holy impressions of your bodies in the powdery blanket covering the earth.

“Okay, ready? Go!” You instruct.

Immediately, you're a couple of giggly messes, swiping limbs against the ground together in unison. Wings and perfect skirts forming around human forms, projecting a sacred image. Once you imagine the artistry has reached its full potential, your movements settle in tandem. Your head rolls to the side to catch her gaze, laughs still leaking from your mouth.

Replicating a heavenly form better than your nostalgic activity ever could was the sight of the woman next to you. Sunshine is pouring in through the trees into the clearing where you lie, illuminating her in an otherworldly fashion. Golden curls shine in a messy halo around her face, while her cheeks flush the most beautiful shade of pink any artist ever labored to craft. She’s glowing, the true depiction of the divine feminine beside you.

Forgoing any preservation of the shape you carved into the snow, you roll to face her, your fingers carefully cupping her cheek as you breathe in the scent of coconut and orange perfume.

“Have fun?” Your voice is small and breathless as you take in the sight of her, unable to believe that something so beautiful is real and yours.

Haley grins up at you, lashes fluttering as she leans into the touch of your hand.

“Mmmm, yeah,” she pauses, “but I think you make everything fun. Even snow, somehow.” A slight snicker inflecting on the end of her thought.

“Trust me, it’s all you angel.”

Your lips take hers in a soft, chaste kiss. Her peach flavored lip gloss coating your mouth as you push to deepen the kiss, tongues dancing together delicately. It’s sweet and longing, not harsh and needy. Born from the reverence you share for each other. A small moan travels from her throat into yours, her core beginning to tingle under your affection.

You pull away from her lips, trailing yours down her rosy cheeks into the side of her neck. Tenderly, you begin nipping and kissing the soft spot at her collarbone, eliciting whimpers from her.

“Wait.” Haley gently grabs your face and pulls it to her view. “Won't we be seen out here?” Her brows are furrowed together with worry.

“No, we’re far enough out from everyone and Leah is visiting Elliott today, so we shouldn't run into anyone.” You explain between breaths.

“Lucky us.” A smirk flits across her lips before she gasps as you work your lips against her skin with a bit more purpose this time.

The tips of your fingers burned red from the chill in the air. Coming underprepared for an activity that was your idea would prove to be useful today, having not thought to grab your gloves on the way out the door. As you continue to peck at her neck, your frigid hand works to undo the buttons on her coat before lifting her sweater up. Her skin feels as if it’s on fire, the effect a combination of her layered outfit and lust for you. You evoke a tiny squeal from her as your mouth encloses around her nipple, while your icy fingers twist and pinch the other. Aiming to work her up, you switch your attentions, your hand and mouth swapping breasts. Eventually, her hips begin bucking up, her squeals becoming more desperate in nature.

“Use your words, pretty.” Your voice is melodic as you coax her.

“Mmmnh, need you please.” Your angel whimpers.

Your fingers slide down her stomach before hooking under her pants, carefully pulling them off and setting them aside. She spreads her legs for you, the sight enough to take your breath away. Her core is glistening in the sunlight against the sparkling snow, soaked with want.

You waste no time, dipping your fingers down to her entrance to gather slick and dragging up to her clit. The pads of your fingers begin tracing out light circles around the bud, icy digits enhancing the sensation. Puffs of breath rising in the air as Haley’s mouth falls open, gasps spilling into the chill air. Slick increasing as you speed up your motions, steadily increasing the tension in her stomach and the volume in her moans.

Two cold fingers on your free hand tease her entrance, lightly ghosting the outside before plunging in, immediately tingling with warmth from her supple walls.

“O-oh my god,” she pants, leaning up on her elbows to watch you work away at her.

“Yeah, angel? Feeling good?” Pushing snow around under your weight, you perch on your knees leaning over to kiss her while your hands fervently continue their efforts. Slipping your tongue against hers to pull her closer, you wait until she’s blissfully unaware before curling your fingers up into her satiny sweet spot. Obscene moans and squeals descend from her mouth, your tongue stealing every last one before pulling away. A mischievous expression finds your face as you watch her eyes roll back into her brain, your hand warming despite the frigid temperatures as her sweet little hole starts gushing around your fingers.

“You're doing so good angel.” You coo. “Think you can cum for me?”

“Yes, yes, god right there!” Teardrops roll down her temples as her head drops back, staring up at the sparkling trees around you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

Movements speeding up the slightest bit in effort make her brain go numb and her eyes see stars, you give her more encouragement to find her release.

“I love you so much, gorgeous. Can’t believe that you're mine, that this beautiful body is mine. You're perfect, angel. Cum for me, I know you can.”

Your sentiments seem to help bring her to the edge, the tightrope in her stomach finally snapping as her cunt pulses and grabs at your fingers. The sight below you is blissful, gorgeous cream oozing into the palm of your hand down onto the powder below you.

When she finally comes to her senses, Haley cups your face hard, kissing you with urgency. Small whimpers exchanged as your tongues fight a long battle for dominance.

“Your turn.” She huffs between lips meeting, her hands frantically pulling at your jeans to unbutton them. Lifting your knees to assist her in getting them off, becoming aware of how slick you are in the thin winter air.

The blonde slides down between your silky thighs, your knees straddling either side of her head as her hands snake around your hips before yanking you down to sit on her. Her tongue teasing your entrance before slowly dipping in, slurping up your juices. She carefully makes her way up your folds, licking and kissing at a leisurely pace, drinking up the mewls crying from your lips. When she finally reaches your clit, flicking her tongue against the pert bud, you feel like you're ascending. White hot tension building inside of you as she switches from

gentle little flicks to light suckles.

She’s building you up despite your every wish for her to go faster. Already feeling impossibly worked up as you beg “please, please Haley. Need more.”

Vibrations rumble deliciously through your want as she laughs against you at your eagerness. But Haley is forever going to give you what you need, when you need it. It’s how she loves. So she obliges, tongue assaulting your bundle of nerves rapidly as static overtakes your vision. Thighs trembling with pleasure, you add to it by pulling your sweater up and grasping at your breasts. Haley lets out a whine beneath you, snaking one hand from your hips up your form before reaching her destination, taking a nipple into her nimble fingers, rolling it in between them. Lewd howls spill from your lips, your impending orgasm bubbling over as her fixed pace hits you in the perfect spot.

“Angel, go-go-gonna cum,” you pant, hand locking your fingers in the mess of hair beneath you. Fighting your thighs that desperately want to close around her pretty face while also struggling to hold yourself up at any rate.

Your gaze meets hers as your waves crash against the shore, gasping for air, a slurry of her name and obscenities muttering from your chest.

Haley glides out from underneath you, both collapsing side by side. Content giggles leaving your throats as your fingers intertwine.

“See how much fun the snow is?” You poke at her, heavy eyelids giving away your exhaustion.

“I’m still not fully convinced,” she shakes her head. “I guess we’ll have to do this again… so that you can really prove it to me.”

#velvetlilith777 #stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv haley #stardew haley #haley stardew valley #stardew valley haley #haley sdv #haley stardew #haley x farmer #haley x reader #haley x female farmer #haley x female reader #wlw fanfic

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 1 year ago

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{ this was inspired by this lovely art by @maatdraws . I've seen this art so so many times and always wanted to write a little something for it! And now i finally have! I hope that's okay!!!! and i was encouraged in the tags by @bananahoneycomb so they're getting a tag as well! Thanks for the encouragement! I just needed that little push! 💚 this is my writing blog by the way, hi hello! My main is @sugarcookiesteve }

Trans Eddie Munson with References to sexual activities so, 18+ only please! Make good choices!

Eddie's got his pants up and zipped, his shirt dangling from his teeth, when he hears Steve move behind him. Before he knows what's happening, Steve's sleep warm chest is pressed agaisnt his back, gentle arms wrapping around Eddie's middle, his cheek nuzzling into Eddie's shoulder.

"Where ya goin?" Steve mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. Eddie's heart is pounding in his chest. Which is ridiculous. He shouldn't be this nervous. Not with Steve. They'd been sleeping together for months now. But he feels his palms start to sweat as Steve tightens his hold, just a little.

"Um... home?" Eddie says, like it's a question.

"How come? Don't wanna sleep here? Is my bed uncomfortable?" Steve asks. And Eddie knows he's teasing. Only asks so many questions and talks so much when he's fully awake, and aware of what he's doing. Eddie's arms fall to his sides, shirt clasped in a trembling hand, Steve still plastered to his back.

"You're bed's... fine." Eddie mumbles, wishing Steve would just let him leave. He doesn't wanna do this. Not right now. He just wants to go home and curl up under his own covers and wallow in his self pity. Like he does every time they do this.

"Why do you always run from me?" Steve whispers, soft and sweet, presses the words into Eddie's shoulder with a genlte kiss.

"Wha- I'm not-"

"You never stay. You're always gone in the morning. Or before... sometimes. I wake up and you're gone." Steve moves his lips slowly over Eddie's skin, not kissing, just... gliding. His lips are warm, his breath warmer where it ghosts across Eddie's neck as Steve noses into his hair.

"I'm sorry." Eddie says, Steve tightens his hold, hands curling around Eddie's sides now, wrapping him in his warm embrace.

"You don't have to be sorry. Just," a sigh.

"Just tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

And he says it like a question. Like he needs the answer to this thing that keeps taking Eddie away from him.

"You're not doing anything wrong. It's me. I just... you don't want this. Me. Not really." Eddie breathes it into the dark room, his skin boiling as his heart thunders against his ribs. Steve's nose rubs agaisnt his ear.

"I don't? Oh. Wish someone had told me that." Steve's teasing again. Eddie can feel him smiling into his shoulder.

"Steve-"

"Didn't I invite you over? Make you dinner?" Steve asks, his fingers moving slowly over Eddie's ribs, it makes him squirm a bit.

"Well yeah...but-"

"And after we ate dinner. I ate something else, pretty thoroughly, I thought." He feels Steve shrug against him, his cheeks flushing for a whole different reason now.

"Just because you're obsessed with eating me out doesn't mean-" Steve snorts into his shoulder, cuts him off.

"I'm not obsessed. I just wanna make you feel good." He feels Steve tense then, for the first time since he'd sidled up behind him.

"Do you not like it? I won't do it anymore if you don't. You seemed like you did, so I kept doing it." Steve's voice is quiet in his ear. Eddie drops his shirt and finally touches Steve back, his hands moving to cover Steve's arms where they're wrapped around his middle.

"No. I- I love when you do that. It's not. Ugh!" He sighs, frustrated. Steve moves again, quick and agile. His hands move to Eddie's chest, fingers moving deftly over the scars there.

"It's this isn't it? You think I don't want you because of this?" Steve breathes, his hands and voice gentle where they touch Eddie. And Eddie can't speak now, his throat is burning with the tears that are threatening, because of course Steve would fucking get it. First guess too.

He settles for a nod. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. He feels Steve nod in return and then his arms are wrapped around Eddie again, holding him close, his nose tucked behind Eddie's ear.

"Eddie." He whispers it, Eddie's chest rumbles at the way his name sounds in Steve's mouth, the way it rolls off his tongue full of longing, like he wants to say...

"Yeah?" Eddie breathes, his body trembling.

"I love you."

It's the first time he's said it. He's wanted to, before now, Eddie had seen it, in his eyes. But he'd always made a joke, or changed the subject, or kissed him so he couldn't get the words out. But there they were. Hanging in the quiet of Steve's room, hanging in the warmth that Steve was pressing into Eddie's body, like he couldn't let him go.

"I love you too." Eddie whispered, his voice shaking. Steve turned him them, fast and nimble in a way Eddie never seemed to able to pin down. His fingers gently tucking Eddie's hair behind his ears.

"Stay. Please?" Steve asks, his hands moving down, his thumbs moving over Eddie's scars before his fingertips settle on the waistband of Eddie's pants. Steve's eyes drop down, and then raise back up, looking at Eddie through his lashes, a question in his warm brown eyes.

Eddie once again can't find his words. His throat clicks when he tries to speak so he nods again. A little frantic. And then Steve is smiling. And the thunder in Eddie's chest calms. Because that's safe. That smile. Steve is safe. Always. And he wants Eddie here. Not just for sex. But for all the other dumb shit they get up to too.

Steve nods back, a mirror to Eddie now. And keeps smiling as he unbuttons Eddie's jeans and helps him out of them. Both of them laughing when Eddie's foot gets stuck and he nearly topples over.

When Steve has them both back under the covers, his arms wrapped around Eddie again, face pressed into Eddie's back, his hands resting over Eddie's heart, Steve whispers sweet words into Eddie's skin. And Eddie feels himself falling. Falling further in love. Falling asleep. Falling for Steve over and over as he presses kisses into Eddie's neck and tells him that he loves him. All of him. Always.

#ive seen that art so so many times and always wanted to write something and i finally have #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #mine #steve x eddie

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fairysongs · 7 months ago

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౨ৎ pretty scary﹕spencer reid .ᐟ

summary: you're having an awful day and your boyfriend is kind of the best person ever.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

includes: reader struggles with bpd, reader has slight mommy issues, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, depictions of overstimulation (NOT the sexy kind), reader has slight mood swings, established relationship, silly fluff, spencer reid is the perfect boyfriend, hurt/comfort KINDA? (reader is upset, spencer soothes her), lowercase writing sorry it's a habit/my preference, Fiona Apple Mention <3

word count: 3.1k

a/n: omg.. hiiii! this is my first silly post on this silly blog and its a very self-indulgent one as someone who has bpd and is told OFTEN how irritable i can get -_- .. im so nervous.com right now bcos ive never posted my writing on here but also excited..? yes yes.. on a huge spencer reid kick so if u liked this and have any requests they are open!! likes/reblogs/any feedback much appreciated :3!

today was just not your day.

the morning started out fine. it was actually kind of perfect. you spent the night at your boyfriend’s place, waking up just in time to see him getting ready for work. there was a smile that crept over your lips as you watched him adjust the tie hanging around his neck. you propped yourself up against the pillows as he caught your eyes in the mirror adjacent to the bed. your heart swelled at the sight of a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“why are you staring at me like that, weirdo?” there was a little morning gravel in his voice but his tone was lighthearted enough to make you giggle. you fell back against the pillows, tucking one under your arm as you kept your gaze on him.

“what? i’m not allowed to stare at my boyfriend anymore?” you replied, a yawn falling off your lips. he playfully rolled his eyes in response, walking over to your side of his bed. he sat at the edge, one of his hands brushing some of your hair from your face.

“actually, no. they just passed that law last night while you were sleeping through coraline again.” you bit your lip, vaguely remembering begging spencer to put that movie on only to fall asleep on his shoulder twenty minutes in. you can only assume at some point he carried you from the sofa to his bed. you blushed at the thought, as if he hadn’t done it at least twenty times by now. clearly you weren’t used to the ‘princess treatment’ he liked giving you.

“oh, my fault then. please don’t arrest me, mr. fbi agent.”

“it’s dr. fbi agent, actually.”

“right…” you giggled again, beaming as he smiled down at you. “do you know if you have a case?”

“paperwork day.” his fingers started tracing small shapes against the skin of your arm. “of course if that changes, i’ll let you know. but hopefully it won’t. you can come over again tonight if you want. maybe we’ll finally finish coraline.” his voice was soft, ringing harmonies in your ear as you let your eyes flutter shut in the comfort. “need me to take you to work today?”

you hummed, reaching out to your phone sitting on his bedside table. you quickly rechecked your schedule and shook your head. “no, it’s okay. i go in a little later. it’s close enough to walk.” you tilted your head as you felt him tangle his hand in your hair again. spencer scratched delicately at your scalp.

“okay, my love. i washed the clothes you left here the other day. they should be in the second drawer of my dresser.” you nodded in response as he leaned in to press his lips to your forehead. you caught his jaw in your hands and pulled him downwards, giving him a proper kiss on his lips. he laughed quietly as you both pulled away. “have a good day, angel.”

“you too, baby.”

well to put it simply you did not have a good day. you got ready for your job at a local cafe and made it to work fine. it was when you got there that it started going downhill. you genuinely loved being a barista. you definitely had the personality for it. friendly, outgoing, kind and patient. it’s actually how you met spencer in the first place. but sometimes it was hard. especially with certain needy customers. most of your regulars were chill. you were actually friends with many of them, always asking about the new things in their lives whenever they’d come in. of course, though, there were always a few bad apples.

like this one particular older man. he came in every now and then and ordered the same thing every single time. black decaf coffee with a blueberry scone. he was always in a rather grumpy mood, not even your tender words could help that. so this morning when you gave him a black regular coffee by an honest mistake he made sure to let you know just how stupid and idiotic you were. you stood there at the counter, expression apologetic as he continued to berate you. eventually your boss told you to go in the back for a bit while she took care of things.

you practically ran to the bathroom, locking yourself in the tiny space as you tried to control your breathing. you could already feel the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. you absolutely despised how sensitive you could get. through shaky breaths, you pulled your phone from your back pocket, unlocking it with a small sob. you had a few texts and one missed call from your mother. one of the texts was from spencer, letting you know it was just gonna be a paperwork day and inquiring what you wanted to order for dinner tonight. the other texts were from your mother, reminding you about a family party that was coming up soon. there was another text after her missed call.

- Guess you’re too busy to talk. Just let me know if you can make it.

you closed your eyes, feeling the passive aggressive tone through the message. the best way you could describe your relationship with your mother was that she was both your best friend and your worst critic. she tried to support everything you aspired to do, but also hated the way you did them. it was... complicated but her text was enough to leave you in a sour mood for the remainder of the day.

you felt like you couldn’t catch up. you couldn’t get over that bump setting you back from having a good shift. your head felt like it was elsewhere and no longer attached to your body, your movements becoming monotonous and your words dull. to make things worse, your eighteen year old coworker was coming in for their shift an hour before you were leaving.

and you loved them, you really really did. often times you would joke about them being your work child, taking them under your wing. but they talked. a lot. most days you could keep up no problem but with the way your mind was on a downward spiral today, all you could feel was immense overstimulation as they yapped in your ear about the latest tv show they were binge watching. soon it was all too much for you to handle and you end up snapping at the poor kid.

“dude i’m sorry but i don’t really care. can we just be quiet for, like, five minutes?” you interrupted them mid-sentence, tired eyes looking over with a slight glare. you immediately softened, eyes wide with guilt as they looked towards you like a kicked puppy. you tried your best to stammer out an apology but was met with silent treatment until you clocked out.

they would soon accept your apology in the next coming days and you’d go back to normal because that’s how you guys were, but the guilt would eat at you for quite a bit. when you were a kid, your parents often praised you on how self-sufficient and respectful you were. in your adolescent years, with the help of an untreated personality disorder and your regular teen hormones raging inside your cage of a body, your behaviour would suddenly change. you found yourself more irritable. more prone to overstimulation. you internalized a lot of what you were going through because every time you tried to bring up your feelings, your mother would shut you down and it’d turn into a fight.

you expressed yourself through slammed doors and screaming matches. you bottled things up until they overflowed. it was how you handled the thunderstorms behind your skull. you would eventually get better in time, finally attending therapy and finding solace in little things like journaling. and when you started dating spencer, he helped a lot too. your brain could sometimes make a lot of irrational judgements and spencer would help you see reasoning instead. he was also insanely patient with you. especially in the first two months of you guys dating where you broke up with him upwards of five times. each time because you didn’t believe you deserved him. (you still don’t believe it, but at least now you’ve stopped trying to fight the good coming into your life.)

you would never forget the first time spencer met your parents. the night was going well up until dinner time when your dad decided to pull out your old high school yearbook. at first it was just classic embarrassment as spencer looked at your school photos. but then your mother, after one too many glasses of wine, brought up your old struggles with anger.

“be careful getting on her bad side, spencer!” she had said, waving a finger in the air. “she’s got a scary temper for sure! remember when we had to replace her bathroom mirror because she threw her hairbrush at it?" she spoke like she was a comedian telling her greatest joke in the world as she turned towards your father. "i can’t even remember what made her so upset! but i remember how expensive that fix was…”

“oh i’m sure i’ve dealt with far worse at my job, ma’am. i think i can handle her just fine.” he was quick to reply and the hand pressing on your bouncing knee beneath the table calmed any nerves of him looking at you differently. later that night he’d hold you as you sobbed in his arms, retelling different memories of your past. he made you a promise that he’d never see you as a bad person as long as you promised him you’d talk to him whenever you started to feel like one.

you were finally walking home after this exhausting day and it wasn’t until you were changed into your comfy clothes and curled in bed that you realized you hadn't texted spencer back at all. with your knees pulled to your chest and a low hum of a fiona apple album playing from your record player you reached across your bed for your phone. you had four texts from him and one missed call.

- Hi angel. Haven’t heard from you all day, just checking in. - Hi, you should be clocked out by now. Just wanted to know if you still wanted to come over? We can order from your favorite italian place. - One missed call from spencer ♡. - Are you having a bad day, my love? Or did I do something wrong? - I’m gonna come over. See you soon, angel.

your brows furrowed together at the last text, sent just about ten minutes ago. you could feel your eyes well with frustrated tears. you felt like shit for unintentionally ignoring him. you couldn’t even think of what to say to him, but you had to think fast because soon you heard a gentle knock at your bedroom door. with a sniffle, you stood to your feet and slowly opened it.

you met spencer’s eyes, they were desperately searching your face. trying to figure you out, trying to see what was troubling your mind. you hated it sometimes when he profiled you, but most times you were grateful he could just know when you weren’t doing okay. saved you the shame of having to actually vocalize your feelings. you stepped back as he entered your room.

“your roommate let me in. she said you went straight to your room after work and have been listening to nothing but when the pawn… by fiona apple.” he was still in his work clothes, the same ones you watched him get dressed in just that morning. felt like an eternity ago at this point. before you could even let your face fall to the ground, his hands were holding your jaw, tilting it upwards and keeping it in place. he always held you like you were made of glass. “bad day?”

“you could say that.” you words were short and you didn’t mean for them to be. you were just so exhausted. “sorry i forgot to text you back. it’s just been…” you let your words fall off, waving your hands in the air with an annoyed huff. you pulled away from his touch, slumping back into your mattress. he just watched as you ran your fingers through your hair, eyes shut tight as if you were trying to talk yourself down. he bit his lip, taking a cautious step forward.

“you look like you’re trying to compute a million things at once right now inside that little head.” he shrugged off the sweater draping over his work shirt, tugged off his tie and kicked his shoes off besides your bed. you laughed sarcastically at his words but bit your tongue from replying with a snarky comment. “did you know that one of the brain’s primary functions is to collect and process sensory information? it’s kind of like there’s a little guy in there, sitting at his desk and filing through every bit of information that gets thrown at you throughout the day.” your eyes were still shut but you felt a dip in your bed as his voice grew closer to you.

“when there’s too much sensory input, it can make the brain think there’s danger, sending off signals to the body to escape. that’s when your fight-flight-freeze response gets triggered. aka that little guy’s desk is suddenly on fire and every file has been thrown all over the place and the little guy, well, the little guy is running around screaming for help.” you feel two arms wrap around your waist and maneuver your body until you felt your head resting against the warmness of his chest. soon enough you also felt slender digits running through the locks of your hair.

“you seem to resort to a fight response i’ve noticed. your body feels like you can overpower the danger your brain thinks you’re in. resulting in intense feelings of anger. which can lead to irritability.” you feel him tracing shapes, the same ones he made on your arms earlier that morning, deep into the small of your back. he always did the same movement pattern and you always wondered if that was intentional or just a coincidence. “do you wanna talk about what’s going on in here?” he poked an index finger to the side of your temple. you shook your head. “okay. we don’t have to. but i will ask about it later, is that okay?” you nodded this time.

you didn’t realize it when it was happening, but the combination of spencer pulling you into his arms and his soft voice spewing factual information at you was enough to make your head feel almost empty. your body was melted against his, curled up in his touch. you let out a shaky breath, slowly raising your head, resting your chin on his chest as your eyes opened. “how did you do that?” you whispered, soft hues scanning his face as he just smiled down at you.

“a magician never reveals his secrets, my love.” you rolled your eyes, laughing quietly as his hand lightly brushed your cheek. he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. your lips twitched in thought, a tiny frown suddenly taking over your features. spencer tilted his head. “what is it, baby?”

your eyes fell to focus on his chest, your finger tracing over the fabric of his work shirt. “do you think i’m scary? like… when i get upset?”

“scary?” he repeated, voice in small disbelief that you’d even feel the need to ask. “no, i don’t think you’re scary. i think you’re beautiful. and i think your mind can be pretty mean to you sometimes. but that’s not your fault. hey, look at me please.” you let him guide your head back up, eyes meeting each other again. he smiled at you and it made you feel warm. “why do you think you’re scary?”

your shoulder shrugged with an exasperated sigh. “because it’s what i’ve been told my whole life. when i get too overwhelmed and i just feel nothing but anger i… i feel like i can get mean and i hate feeling that way. like, i always get too snappy and i always say something that’s gonna hurt someone i care about and i…” your breathing hitches. your lashes quickly blink, trying to fight any tears from spilling yet again. “i’m so scared i’m gonna get that way with you and you’re gonna leave me.”

he was shaking his head, thumb swiping underneath your eyes at the few tears that betrayed you and fell down your cheeks. he sighed out your name. “i don’t think you understand just how much i love you. if you think i’d leave you at something so silly like that. you know, i started reading up on borderline personality disorder after that night i met your parents. i wanted to understand it more. i wanted to understand you.” he continued wiping away your tears as they kept falling.

“i can’t even imagine what you go through inside your own head every single day, but i can acknowledge how hard you’re trying to cope with it. i see it all the time. i see it in the kindness you like to spread to strangers. i see it in the way you push yourself to learn new things and the way you stopped beating yourself up if it doesn’t turn out perfect. i see it in the way you love me, and more importantly in the way you’ve allowed yourself to let me love you back. you’re such a beautiful person, my love. it’s okay to have bad days and it’s okay to let yourself be a little mean sometimes.” he laughed quietly, noticing the way your lips were fighting a smile. he leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “as long as you just communicate with me when you’re feeling bad. that’s all i ask.”

you sat there for a moment, admiring the way his big brown eyes stared at you. your eyes fell for a moment before picking back up with furrowed brows. “i snapped at my coworker today.”

“the teenager?” you nodded. “ah,” spencer’s hand resumed circling around your back as he hummed. “they’ll forgive you, i’m sure of it.” there was a pause and then a small hum coming from his throat. “are you hungry? hm? let’s order some food.”

he ordered you your favorite pasta dish from your favorite italian restaurant and you fell asleep in his arms in the middle of coraline again. he couldn’t help but admire you resting so peacefully in his arms and continued tracing the words ‘i love you’ over and over again into your back for the rest of the night.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #౨ৎ ﹕mazzy’s fics ( s.r x reader. ) .ᐟ #first time i posted this it didnt show in the tags ...#who wants me gone ALREADY.

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munsster · 7 months ago

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hi pookieee

i just found your blog and legit spent like two hours reading your stuff- IT'S SO GOODDDDD OML

so, if requests are open, and if they're not! totally fine, but if they are... can i maybe possibly request a jonathan byers oneshot? 😍maybe domestic vibes, some will and joyce, sort of where reader is just part of the daily, like it's not a 'oH jOnAtHaN hAs a GiRl OvEr' type of thing, the byers are just so used to her being around-

OKEY BYEEE, DRINK WATER, EAT SNACKS, KEEP SPARKLING ✨

fall into place

A/N: HI POOKIE! im obsessed w ur energy and i would do anything for u, this sounds so cute hope u like it 😋

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jonathan comes home to find you fully adopted into the Byers’ daily routine. When did that happen? 1.3k words.

Warnings: fluff, domesticity, cringe 80s references, mike being annoying, KISSING, pet names (baby, heartthrob)

The front door slamming shut rattles the frame of the house, but nobody seems to care over the ruckus. Jonathan drops his messenger bag by the bench in the foyer, shucking his shoes and skirting to the kitchen. Joyce flips through a fashion catalog by the phone with her thumb nail perched between her lips.

"She's in El's room," Joyce says while Jonathan swipes an unopened juice pouch off the counter and tucks a pack of toaster strudel under his arm. There's an uproar in the other room from the usual teenage suspects. He's about to make his way upstairs when his mom chuckles.

"Oh, hi, mom, how was your day?" Joyce teases, "Thanks for asking, Jonathan. It was lovely, I bought you those juice pouches and toaster pastries you like. How was yours?" She cocks a brow, and he peeks back into the kitchen.

"Love you, mom."

"Love you, too. Oh, also it's fend night. There are some leftovers and dinners in the freezer. Your brother was craving frozen pizza."

"Sounds good!" he shouts, already halfway up the stairs and down the hall. The cassette deck on El's desk sings something tinny and youthful and he's pretty sure she has it cranked to full volume. You're perched at the foot of her bed with your fingers looping the fluffy strands of her hair into a criss-cross plait. You look over and smile, leaning into the kiss he plants on your cheek.

"Hi," you coo.

"Hi, baby," he says with a lazy smile across his face. "My room?"

"In a sec."

El tuts, "she's braiding my hair." You chuckle, tying off the end of her braid with a sparkly, blue elastic you nabbed from the bottom of the bathroom drawer. He tips the straw of his juice to your lips, and you hum and pat the top of El's head just before hopping to your feet and fleeing the room with Jonathan's hand in yours.

"Thank you!" she calls, but you both know you'd do it for her anytime.

He falls back onto his springy mattress, and you straddle his hips, pry the decadent box from his grasp, and triumphantly fish out a strudel.

"I didn't know Mike was visiting this week," you mumble through a mouthful of pastry.

"Yeah, their spring breaks lined up." Jonathan chugs the rest of his fruit cocktail, crushing the pouch and setting it on his bedside table alongside the discarded pastry box. Then he recoils, nose scrunching: "You met mike?"

You nod, nibbling the strudel in half and pressing bite-sized piece to his mouth, swiping away the stray crumbs that sprinkle his shirt. "It's cinnamon," you whisper. He hums.

"Was he weird?" he worries.

"Only a little," you tease, sweeping his hair off his forehead and leaning down to press a damp kiss to the open space.

"He's a punk."

You shrug. "Only a little."

You split the last piece of pastry between you, making sure you get an even amount of filling and frosting before clinking the edges and popping them into your mouths.

"What were you and El listening to?" he asks.

"Make it big. You know Wham. 'I don't want your freeeeedom!'" you mock, squeaking out the iconic high note, "Mike got it for her."

"Sounded... contemporary," he chuckles, setting his palms into the curve of your hips, hooking his thumbs in the loops of your jeans.

"Yeah, I think she has a thing for George Michael. We've been listening to it on repeat." Your stretch your arms over your head with a yawn.

"He is pretty cute," Jonathan teases.

"Yeah, well," you say with all the casualty of a partly cloudy Wednesday afternoon, "Not as cute as you."

He scoffs, sitting up with you still balanced in his lap. “Shut up,” he huffs.

“No!” You grin and lean in close, mumbling, “heartthrob,” in a kiss to his lips. When you pull back he stares softly into your eyes.

“How long have you been here?”

“My shift ended at two so,” you say, “since then. Why? You tryin’ to send me home, Byers?”

“No,” he whispers, he wouldn’t dream of it, “No, I like that you’re here when I get home.”

You chuckle and drape your arm over his shoulder. “That’s very domestic of you.”

“God, I know”—he rolls his eyes, pressing his palms flat to your back and smiling coyly—“Wait ‘til uou hear how glad I am that everyone likes you so much. And that you like them, too. Even when they’re fucking crazy.”

You peck the corner of his mouth gently, willing a smile to creep across his face.

“I fit right in, don’t I?” you tease. But he doesn’t laugh, enamored by everything you say and do. His fingertips just graze your cheek and his eyes flick down to your mouth.

He sighs. “Like our missing puzzle piece.”

“Yeah,” you reason, “like the piece that gets knocked onto the floor to collect dust for ten years until someone's sweeping and randomly unwedges it from the floorboards only to realize it's from the puzzle they gave away last week.”

“No, more like,” he chuckles, “like the one stuck to the underside of the lid that you only find once youre putting the deconstructed puzzle away.”

You giggle, tilting your head back. Then you sigh, whipping your head back to stare into his eyes, foreheads pressed together.

“Maybe we’re all missing puzzle pieces,” he suggests. It’s whispered. Like it’s a secret and you two are the only ones who will ever know the truth.

You nod. “Oh, we definitely are. Five billion lonely little puzzle pieces waiting for our lost portrait.” Your fingers twirl a lock of his hair, and he holds back a splitting grin. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation sober.”

He cackles, holding your lower back as he leans slightly. “Wait,” he says, “you’re sober?” You smack his chest, chuckling when he hollers, “I’m kidding! I’m kidding, you're the only person worth getting high with anymore since Argyle's in Utah.”

You pout facetiously, sticking out your lower lip with your brows knitting. “Jonny! So romantic!”

“Yeah, yeah, natural as riding a bike,” he teases. You smile and lean in to kiss him, and he meets your lips sweetly. You pull away and peck the corner of his mouth then his cheek before your doe eyes flick up to his. Your mouth opens to say something, but Mike bursts into the room.

“Ew, gross, at least close the door if you’re going to suck face!”

You turn over your shoulder with a scowl. “You close the door, we’re obviously busy.”

“I don’t even know you!” Mike scoffs.

You hop up and jump to the door wildly, about to slam it just as you squint and say, “Then you’ve got a lot to learn, sonny.”

But before you can close it, Will peeks into the conversation and offers, “C’mon, let’s be diplomatic, people! Mom says come eat and watch Nightmare on Elm Street.”

“Mister Kreugs again?” you say, “Yes, please!” You high-five Will, and he shuffles down the stairs. Mike and El follow. You turn back to see Jonathan lounging back on his bed, eyes closed and just barely smiling to himself.

“Coming, heartthrob?”

“Yeah,” he says, blinking awake, head lulling to gaze at you, “don’t wait up.”

But you run back anyway, grabbing his hand and tugging him to his feet.

“Too bad,” you whisper, giving him a consolation kiss. You get him to the bottom of the stairs before he pulls you back against him right on the last step. He kisses you sweetly and with a smile.

Will shouts from the living room, “Okay, I’m usually pretty tolerant, but please no making out during horror night!”

You chuckle, still holding Jonathan’s hand with his arm lazily around your waist. “Okay, fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

You look back to find Jonathan already staring at you. It still makes you nervous or excited or something. He’s holding you so close, and you can’t help but kiss him one last time.

stranger things masterlist

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x fem!reader #jonathan byers x you #jonathan byers fluff #jonathan byers fic #jonathan byers fanfic #stranger things #x reader #fluff #domestic!jonathan byers #domestic fluff #stranger things x reader #x fem!reader

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babyjakes · 1 year ago

Text

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | harness

pairing | daddy!dom!ari levinson x little!sub!reader

warnings | ddlg and dom/sub dynamics (daddy dom!ari and little sub!reader.) me not knowing anything about handiwork lol. reader struggles to ride. size kink. minimal foreplay (pussy rubbing, nipple play.) reference to rope play. p in v sex, protection unspecified. riding (with help lol.) safeword reminder. mostly sweet praise and encouragement, a little bit of mocking/humiliation tho (he calls reader a whore once.) they come together :D!!! orgasm from penetration. he comes inside. soft sweet reassurance/beginning of aftercare at the end.

word count | 1,284

an | kind of scared that people might not like this one, but i've had this fantasy for soooo long lol i just had to finally put it out there. something about a big beefy daddy laying back and casually tugging at a rope (WITH BIG ARM BC. I LOVE ARM) as he pleases to fuck his pretty little baby up and down along his cock, ,, it gets to me 🤤 also if you're confused by the logistics of the harness, i made diagrams 😭

thinking about daddy dom ari with his sweet little subby baby who has a hard time riding him (understandably!!)

you're such a good girl, you try so so hard but it's just too much 🥺 you get up there and he's soo huge you can barely take all of him. and even if you do manage to lower yourself all the way down onto his massive length, then you have to find some way to move yourself up and down along him?? poor baby, it's just too difficult 😔

so daddy comes up with a brilliant idea, he's gonna install some very special hardware in the bedroom to help with your little problem

he makes an entire day of it. mapping out the blueprint in a notebook, checking to make sure there's a sturdy ceiling beam overhead, researching the best parts to buy on his laptop as you lay comfortably at his side, snuggling into him

the harness itself he orders online, custom-made for your measurements. you're curious and ask to see, but he wants it to be a surprise. he makes a list of the rest of the parts and takes you with him to the hardware store. you get to ride in the cart as he's picking everything out 🥺

"you excited, baby?" he asks on the way home as you hum along softly to the radio. he's smiling as you nod sweetly, reaching over to brush back your hair. "gonna make sure everything's right for my little girl," he promises. "just gotta be a little patient when we get home, sweetheart. you can watch daddy work if you want"

you're a little intimidated when you see it starting to come together. he installs the eye hook as the system's anchor in the ceiling and puts together the pulley system with the sturdy rope he bought. he sees your wide eyes and comes over to kiss your forehead, promising, "don't worry, baby. it'll all be safe. daddy's making sure of it"

a few days later, the harness arrives in the mail. he brings you to the bedroom and has you undress, helping you into it. it's not too bulky or uncomfortable, but sturdy enough to be safe. your heart melts as you see the baby pink and white accents he chose. "so pretty, daddy!" you cheer as he undresses himself and climbs up to lay in the center of your shared bed

he gets you sitting up on his thighs, facing him. your poor pussy leaks excitedly as your legs are spread by the wide straps wrapped around your upper thighs. "you wanna play with daddy a little, baby?" he prompts as he softly begins to run his fingers over your bare mound

you take his big cock in your hands, teasing gently at it as he works your clit in circles for a bit with his thumb to warm you up. with the other hand, he's adjusting the ropes to make sure they're all untangled and ready for when he wants to strap you in for your first ride 🤠

his dick and your cunt are both twitching in anticipation. ari can see you eyeing the contraption a bit warily. "you're okay, baby," he hums as he brings a hand up to pinch and tweak at one of your nipples, making you whimper. the harness is conveniently designed similarly to a lot of your daddy's rope work, tightening around the breasts and thighs to keep you prone and in place

he waits for some of the apprehension to leave your face. finally asking, "you ready, sweetheart? you gonna let daddy setb you up in your pretty new harness?" your eager nodding is all the convincing it takes

he buckles you in with the safety-grade carabiners, giving the rope a gentle tug as a test. it jerks you up slightly, bouncing you on his legs. he gives you a wide, nearly greedy smile "okay baby, let's get you up on daddy's dick"

he tugs again, helping you up a bit into the air (though your legs are still resting some on the bed below) and moves you over with the other hand to position you over his hardened length. all you have to do is sit in the pretty gear and let your daddy do as he pleases. he positions his tip at your dripping entrance, gently easing you down onto him as he loosens the tension on the rope little by little. you let out such a sweet moan as you're filled to the brim, your eyes rolling back slightly in delight 😍

"shit, princess," ari takes a moment to adjust to your tiny little pussy swallowing him up. he tightens his grip on the rope, his voice low and rumbly, "you gonna be a good girl and let daddy fuck you now? that's it baby, just let daddy do the work"

he tries to go easy to start but part of him can't help it; he's been waiting for this moment for so long. he gives you a few pumps up and down on him at a gentle pace, but the feeling of you bouncing like that so effortlessly and the sight of your mouth falling open as your sweet little cries intensify quickly cause him to start acting with abandon

the system works so well, it looks like it's straight out of a porno. ari lays back, groaning deeply as he jerks at the rope at whatever pace he pleases. the way his arm looks when he flexes is so 😮‍💨each tug bounces your perfect form against him, your poor insides aching in pleasure as he rams right up against your ceiling

"d-... d-... daddy!" you sob, your little hands flailing a bit as you grow increasingly overwhelmed by his forceful pace

his eyes flash with a hint of satisfaction at your adorable undoing. "c'mon baby, you can take it. remember your word," he reminds you as he uses his free hand to gather both of your wrists and secure them tightly behind your back. you're left completely helpless, nothing but a living, breathing toy for your daddy to use

"d-daddy, it's s-so much... 'm gonna..." he's grinning wider as he sees your impending orgasm; it's rare for you to come from penetration alone

"oh are you, sweetheart? are you gonna be a good little whore and come for daddy? such a dirty girl, getting off on daddy fucking you like this"

"mmmhhh.... d-daddy!!" you're squealing as you squeeze down on his slippery cock. the sight of you coming like this nearly sends him over the edge, he quickens his pace, tugging more forcefully at the rope to bounce your poor little pussy over him faster

"fuck, baby. daddy's gonna come," he growls, tightening his grip on your wrists as his face contorts with concentration. "you want me to fill you up, princess? want daddy to come in that sweet baby cunt of yours?"

"y-yes please, daddy! please, please fill me up! please, want your come!!"

he lets go of the rope just in time, letting you slam down against him as he hits his peak. he grabs your waist to hold you firmly in place as his seed shoots up into you, your walls fluttering in sync with his dick's throbbing

when you both start to come down, you slump forward onto your big daddy bear 😮‍💨he's rubbing your back, whispering so sweetly in your ear, "good girl, so good for me, baby. so proud'a you, did so well. i'm here, sweet girl. daddy's here"

hmmm yeah i don't even care if no one else is into this, this is MY dream scenario let me have it 😭😭

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brayneworms · 1 year ago

Text

send up my heart to you.

kinktober day four: overstimulation

word count. 3.2k

content. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI, overstimulation, porn with feelings, crying, kissing, gender-neutral reader, reader bottoms, no real power dynamics, implied virgin!xiao, references to xiao's past abuse, subspace, aftercare, mild dumbification, sub-top!xiao, blink and you miss it implications of masochism, this got emotional lol.

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

♪ my love mine all mine - mitski

Xiao doesn't know he can get addicted to love.

How could he? It's not like you realise you're craving something when you don't have it. So the first time it's entirely by accident. It takes a lot for him to get like this, to get vulnerable enough. So much of your human lifespan that he feels indescribably guilty, actually, that you've wasted so many years on worrying at the stone wall of vulnerabilities he'd erected so many years ago.

But, diligently—and so humanly—you had.

And there is still so much of him that screams that he doesn't deserve it. That first time, he won't ever forget—bristling with karmic debt, feeling it ooze out of him like a shameful shadow. It rolled down his back in drops of sweat and beaded in his eyes like tears. With every wet, strangled gasp that left his throat it released into the air like a noxious gas, and he waited, body tensed like a loaded weapon, waited for it to kill you.

And it didn't. And it doesn't.

It feels impossible. Nothing should feel this good. It's slow and hard, in the way that it's deliberate. That's the thing that makes Xiao want to cry. You're deliberately touching him. On purpose, you love him.

Your hands are deliberate; there is no chance you'll forget it's his skin you're touching as you knead it between your fingers like fresh bread, fitting your fingers between his ribs, rubbing slow circles over his thighs, tracing the scars that welt up under the flesh. Your fingers paint fire over his body, and disrobing feels like simultaneously the most natural thing in the world, and also something that makes Xiao want to run and hide.

His own skin seems to scream at him. But you must only hear birds.

Soft kisses, dotted down his sternum as your hands skim over the scarred plane of his torso, thumbs circling. Can you feel the way his stomach tenses under the flex of your digits, the way his breath hitches? His ribs creak and expand with each shallow breath. It's dangerous, and he thinks—perhaps he could grow addicted to this.

How awful. To be addicted to something that will be gone in the blink of an eye.

The touches and the kisses, the little whispers are good, but being inside you is something almost indescribable. It's a slow, conscious effort, something almost akin to a play like in the theatre that Zhongli and Hu Tao frequent on their rare days off. There are roles and lines and actions to be memorised, and he does, opening you up—spit, fingers, the help of some slippery oil in a glass vial you produced from your pocket. This, too, is deliberate—the whole time is Xiao knowing what he's opening you up for, and being struck dumb all over again before he's even—

even—

"Are you ready?" you murmur, and Xiao's mouth works soundlessly for a moment because how could he be ready for something like this? He doesn't even know what it's going to feel like. How can he be ready for that?

But what he is ready to do is trust you. With his life, with everything. In so many ways, he's already given you everything. So he nods, trembly and short.

"Can I hear a yes?" Your hands stroke up and down his thighs, the sensitive skin on the inside, and Xiao huffs out a strangled breath.

"Yes," he grits out, teeth mashing together. If it's going to be anyone, it's going to be you. And you smile at him, all lips and no teeth, eyes crinkling in bows and Xiao swallows past the unidentifiable lump in his throat.

(It is only unidentifiable because he is a coward. He knows, deep down, exactly what it is).

You take him in your hand; he's already painfully hard, had been, really, since you started kissing. It's mortifying, this show of desire, but he's helpless before it as you move your hand slowly up and down. You position him between your legs, and he feels the soft, the hot and wet, spit and oil and something else, and it hits him—

He slides in. Xiao sees your thighs shake with the effort, his hands slipping under clumsily to grab at them to help; it feels like all his own strength as been sapped, and as soon as your body swallows the tip of his cock all he can do is slump back against the sweat-damp mattress, mouth open in a silent gasp before it releases in a high, broken whimper like shattered glass.

Arduously, you take him all. By the time you're practically sitting on him he's already an utter mess, squirming and hot under you, his hands scrabbling frantically for purchase on your thighs. His nails leave little railroads behind on your skin.

"Oh," he moans, head tipped back. "Oh—gods—"

"Xiao..." Your fingers trace over his; he can feel your own shaking. "You feel so good."

He blinks his eyes open, shocked to find them already blurry. "I—I do?" he rasps, pathetically, hating himself for it, but your radiant smile makes him ascend.

"Feel like I was made for you," you mumble, and Xiao's heart cracks because how can you, your mortal form, how can you be made for him—toxic and rotten and old, so old that he will outlive you by thousands of years? But then you smile weakly, and you say, "or maybe you were made for me," and that feels a lot more palatable. Xiao can believe quite readily that he was put on this earth for no other reason than to please you.

He rocks his hips up weakly, chasing more of that squeezing wet heat, that almost suffocating tightness, and your body jolts and groans. "S-sorry," he wheezes, but his body can't stop, he can't stop, every cell is on fire and you feel so so so good—

He comes far, far too quickly; it's basically over before it's even started, as he thrusts up into you with a shattered gasp. For a moment his head goes wonderfully, blissfully blank, and it feels like the first time in forever he's stopped thinking long enough to relax. He slumps against the mattress, breathing fast, and peers up at you with wide, apprehensive eyes.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice strangled, weak, pathetic. Self-loathing rises up in a vice, twists up his insides. What a useless tool he proclaims to be. His fingers drop limply from your legs and twist up the bedsheets, avoiding your eye, despising himself. "I can keep going."

Your expression pinches—for the first time, Xiao realises with disconcertion. There had been no trace of disappointment when he'd failed to perform, only now that he offers himself up as a sacrificial lamb for your pleasure. The casual concern makes his head rush.

"It's okay," you say soothingly. "It's a lot. I mean—" You glance down for half a second, but Xiao catches it, follows your gaze. Release drips down from where he's still buried inside you, running languidly down the backs of your thighs. Xiao's face burns, but he's caught between mortification and sudden interest.

A piece of him is inside you. It makes his whole body shiver with satisfaction, like an itch that's finally been scratched. He feels the limp instrument between his legs swell, and it's with more conviction that he says this time, "I can keep going. Please—please allow me..."

Shivering, he reaches a hand up, smooths it up your stomach. Your skin is so smooth and hot, so untouched by the ugliness of war. He wonders how you can stand to look at him, but you can, you do, and he swallows hard as he sits up and presses a stinging kiss to the swell of flesh on the left of your chest. This close he feels your breath hitch.

"If—if you're sure." Your voice has become quiet, shaky. Unsure, for the first time.

"I am." He is so fucking sure—every part of him, apparently, because the heat between his legs is starting to get painful again. "C-can... could I...?"

In answer, you roll your hips against his, testing, slow. He feels like dick twitch inside you, and it shocks him like lightning. It's an odd sensation—a pleasurable burning, feeling momentarily so good that it hurts. Is this normal? He shudders, eyes struggling to focus; every small jolt of him inside you sends shivering bolts of lightning through his body, ones that have him whimpering and gasping much more than before.

It's slightly painful—and it's ridiculous, because Xiao has made friends with agony, had lived through so much of it that he'd come out the other side and regarded it almost as an old friend. But it's a different sort of pain than torture, than brutality, than mindless violence for the sake of it. This is a discomfort he would happily self-inflict.

"Xiao?" you ask, breathlessly. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," he answers mindlessly, then rushes to correct himself. "Th-that is—it doesn't..." He gathers a sharp breath. "I do not... dislike it."

"Are you sure?"

In answer, he gathers his strength and flips the two of you over. You make a grunt of surprise as your back flops against the mattress, and it takes an awkward few moments of fumbling and sliding sweaty limbs to align yourselves correctly again. Xiao kneels between your legs, keeping himself lifted with his arms on either side of your head. Framing you, like you're a painting. You might as well be.

You stare up at him owlishly.

"I'm sure," he says, then fixes you with an attempt at a flat look. It would probably be more effective if he wasn't blushing madly. "I'm not made of glass, you know. It's far more likely that I'll hurt you rather than the other way around."

"You won't hurt me," you say with so much certainty that it throws him for a loop. Xiao swallows, eyes softening as he gazes down at you. You slip your hand between the both of you and wrap your fingers gently around his cock, and Xiao buries his head in the crook of your neck with a muffled moan. The sound that slips out of him is almost pained, wispy and high as you carefully manoeuvre him back to the heat between your legs.

Sliding back into you is what he imagines heaven must feel like, in the event a wretched creature like him could ever get there. And it burns, every clench and ridge catching on his cock as he pushes back in with a breathless noise, every cell in his body fizzing with life and fire.

"Hah—" The noise slips out like a punch. "Oh, oh..."

"Please." You lift your hips encouragingly, pressing the two of you flush together. "Please move."

The first few thrusts are awkward, but after he manages to pick out a steady sort of rhythm it's so easy to fall back into it. Xiao stares down at you, gobsmacked; is this what you saw, sitting on his waist, looking down? Your head tips back against the sheets, fingers clenching the bedsheets, your lips parted in a helpless little moan. He feels dazed, heavy-limbed: how did you not fall immediately and irrevocably in love?

Oh, he thinks distractedly. Maybe you—

You're getting closer, this time—he's not entirely sure how he can tell, but he just can. Your breathing picks up, gets higher and wispier until you're practically wheezing, and your arm flies up to dig your nails into the foam of hair at his nape, pinpricks of pain to match the sensitivity burning between his legs. Every push in and out of you makes his whole body shudder, makes small, pathetic sounds drift out of him almost absently. It's almost scary, how separated from his own body he feels.

It's something he can only compare to committing absolute violence. Leaving yourself behind like this, to do what must be done.

He has just enough wherewithal to bend his neck, mouthing at your chest, the soft skin under his lips feeling like a miracle, an offence to everything he knows. Your answering groan sends heat rushing between his legs. You're making—he it's because of him, and he's—he's making you feel—

His second orgasm doesn't so much as creep up on him as it does slam through him with barely a seconds' warning. Xiao practically chokes on his, his hips stuttering against yours as his cock twitches inside you, again, and it's so much, too much, that his whole body lights on fire with the oversensitivity. Tears swarm his eyes as he clenches them shut, pressing hard against your collarbone before he slumps, practically boneless.

He can feel you breathing beneath him. Certainly you didn't finish, if the way you're swallowing and breathing hard is any indication. Shame fills him all over again, as soon as the feverish heat retreats. He lifts his head groggily and looks up at you, dread pooling in his stomach—but again, there is no disdain in your expression. Your eyes are wide, mouth parted, but when he locks eyes with you all you do is smile weakly and shrug, a gesture that even Xiao understands to mean it's okay.

Still. It isn't. Not to him.

Through the foggy haze that has settled over his brain, he manages to dredge up two words. Hoarsely, whispered into your skin: "One more."

"W-what?" There's barely time for the shock to slip off your face before Xiao pushes himself up on trembling arms. "Xiao, you—oh!"

The noise you make when he presses his hips flush against you is almost enough to have his cock swelling with interest again. "Wait," you whine, even as your hips arch into him. "Xiao, it's too—you m-must be—"

"I can take it," he grits out, unsure if it's true but beyond willing to find out. He blinks down at you with wet eyes, mouth agape, not thinking to close it, not thinking about whether he looks ridiculous, wanton, or any thousand other things. Only thinking that he wants you, and wants you to feel good. "Please..."

The feeling that rips through him when he rolls his hips against yours almost makes him shriek. It's so much, and a loud buzzing fills his ears as his jaw locks. It needles at him, his skin screaming as he grinds against you, barely thrusting really, just trying to ease himself back into the feeling again. Your expression pinches.

Pleasure pricks through the pain. Xiao groans, effectively brainless, and only one thought drives him forward. He wants to make you come. He wants to see you finish, feel it around him, so he moves his hips again, again, relentlessly, through the overstimulation, through the waves of pleasure that roll over him helplessly. Tears swell up against and spill, and every time he rocks into you he makes a sound like he's been shot through; whimpery and high, wet and pathetic.

A film slides over Xiao's brain. All he can hear is your moans, fast and urgent, and all he can feel is you practically pulsing around him. Nothing should feel this much, he thinks senselessly, and it's only when you put a hand on his face desperately that he realises he's saying all of this aloud, mindless babbling under his breath, a constant stream of consciousness like he'd lost the ability to shut his mouth.

Maybe he has, he thinks distantly, and is that such a bad thing? How can it be a bad thing to be mindless in front of you, to only think about this, it's so good, it hurts but it's so good, he loves it, he loves you—

Still speaking aloud; he can tell by the way your expression slackens, your lip trembles, and you shakily cup his face to bring his lips to yours. He's barely conscious enough to reciprocate, his whole body shuddering with every thrust, and he can feel the quivering vibrations of the both of you moaning into each other's mouths, feel the wetness of saliva and tears, his tears, when was the last time he cried? He'd cry for you, he thinks senselessly. You're worth crying for.

"Please," he begs, not necessarily knowing what he's pleading for anymore. "Please, please, please—"

You tighten around him, and it makes his voice cut out with the noise it makes, and even as he watches through the blurry wet haze of his tears he feels and sees you come undone beneath him, your back arching up to meet him as though you two could possibly get any closer. Your broken-off moans and breathy gasps send Xiao over the edge again with a dry, broken sob.

He's so, so sensitive that even pulling out of you makes him wince and shudder all over again. He watches, dazed, as his own release drips out of you, thankful absently that you thought to put towels down before—before.

You're gasping, hands on his face, a frantic look on your face. "Xiao? Hey. You okay?"

I'm fine, Xiao tries to say, but all that comes out is a breathy whimper. He's still sort of crying, he realises, bringing up a trembling back to touch his wet cheeks. You thumb at his face, the touch almost too much—he wants to curl into his clothes, but of course he has no clothes because he's naked, both of you are—

His face burns with sudden shame. He came three times.

"Did I make you feel good?" he whispers, softly, wide-eyed. Your expression trembles, melts into a soft smile that feels like the closest thing to sedation Xiao can handle.

"So, so good," you assure him, and Xiao melts into your arms with a deep sigh. He's still shaking like a baby bird, but you hold him in your warm arms, as his tears turn to sniffles and then wet, quivering breaths. "You pushed yourself too far, though," you tell him, and Xiao curls up, blanching at any semblance of rejection. "I'm not mad," you hasten to assure him. "Far, far from it. Just... go easier on yourself, next time, please. I care about you. I don't want you to hurt yourself for my sake."

Reality returns in doses. Some semblance of awareness trickles back to Xiao the longer you talk. "I understand," he whispers. "I liked it. It was—perhaps more i-intense than I anticipated, but I liked it. I liked... doing it for you." He blushes.

You press a soft kiss to his forehead. "You're so sweet, Xiao. We'll talk about it more tomorrow, okay?"

He nods tiredly. That sounds agreeable. Tomorrow exists in some far-off dreamland. For now, he can curl up to your side as you carefully manoeuvre the towels off the bed so you can sleep on clean, dry sheets. Xiao clings to you, snuffling into your side like you'll disappear if he lets you go, and you card your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

It should be horribly embarrassing. But it isn't. It just isn't. Nothing is the way it should be, when it comes to you. Not pain, or pleasure, or any of the things he usually feels. He supposes it's a byproduct of never being loved.

But he loves you. And—

"I love you, Xiao," you murmur against his hair, and if he had any tears left he's sure they'd be welling up in his eyes. As it is, his fingers merely tighten their hold on your waist. "You said it earlier—I don't know if—well. I just wanted to say it. I love you, and you did so, so well for me. Now go to sleep."

Xiao thinks he'd die if you asked him to.

But you don't. You just ask him to sleep.

So he does.

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