#tw: non consensual recording

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content. toxic frat culture/attitudes. non consensual recording.

fuckboy satoru gojo.

fuckboy satoru who's in a group chat with a bunch of other shitty fuckboys who all brag about their conquests.

one of them posts a sex tape, bragging about how he took the girl's virginity and filmed it without her knowing. it catches his attention - the girl is kind of cute.

you're kind of cute. the sounds you make, the way you look and act, and damn, your body has his pants tightening. he thinks he's seen you around before.

the boys in the chat have a good laugh about what a dumbass you are. he jerks off to the video and moves on with his life.

and that's the end of it - until he bumps into you.

and actually you're... really nice. you apologize even though it's not your fault, laughing it off, picking your things up. he helps you, which is out of character for him, but he feels kind of bad for you.

you carry these tiny little mochi candies with you, and offer him one for his help.

you call him pretty. when he gets close enough to hand you your things he gets a whiff of your conditioner or body wash or something and it smells good. something sweet.

satoru wonders what scent it was. he thinks about it and he finds himself pulling up the video again, jerking off.

is it just him, or did you not cum in the video? he always knew the prick that took it was a total fucking loser.

and that could have been the end of it. that should have been the end of it, only, he seems to keep running into you again. completely by accident (at first) but later... well, it's not like he's avoiding you.

because you give him candy. you call him "pretty boy" and it doesn't sound even a little bit mocking. you smile at him, fondly, like you're happy to see him. you're just... nice.

what a dumb bitch. can't believe i actually got away with that lololol

i know dude. crazy. are you still together?

fuck that, we were never "together". she keeps texting me lol. needy af

he's nice to you when he sees you! he starts paying you back for the candies. buys you treats. brings you coffees. he learns your order. your major. your likes and dislikes. (how did that fucking prick get to touch you? what the fuck did he tell you?)

so maybe he jerks off to the video again... a few more times. he gets angrier every time.

the piece of shit in chat keeps talking about how bad you were in bed. he didn't even get you off. what a fucking loser.

he tells himself it's a matter of pride. he's good in bed, it's pathetic that the dude is bragging about his garbage performance. it's not like he cares about you.

it's not like he walks with you to classes. texts you all the time. finds out what body wash you were using and buys you ten more of them.

when he threatens the piece of shit that fucked with you, it's because he's embarrassed to be associated with him.

nothing to do with how you've confided in him that you're having doubts about the guy you 'were involved with'.

nothing to do with the look on your face when you say it, and the way it makes him feel like he's being stabbed in the chest.

nothing to do with the way that he - he can't stop jerking off to that fucking video, he can't stop looking at you, wishing - but he feels so fucking bad about it -

okay, fine, WHATEVER. maybe fuckboy satoru is catching the first crush of his entire life...

and then he sees another video of you in the group chat.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 6 - "All Eyes" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Fugo and Narancia find themselves in a very bad situation in today's @whumptober prompt while Bucciarati is forced to watch his youngest teammates torture via a random video

~~~~~~~

Prompts Used: Recording, Made to Watch Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Character(s): Fugo & Narancia

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

The last thing Bucciarati wanted to do was watch the tape that had ended up on his doorstep. Especially since he had a good idea what it might contain, what with his two youngest team members currently missing in action.

Abbacchio and Mista were still out looking for any leads, so Bucciarati hooked the VCR up by himself and put the video in.

The screen was black for a few seconds before the video started. The room was dimly lit, but it was easy enough for Bucciarati to pick out the two familiar figures and his heart dropped.

Fugo and Narancia were both tied to chairs, facing each other in a nondescript room. Fugo was the only one blindfolded and gagged however, Narancia's eyes staring wide and terrified around the room, watching the camera until a figure appeared from one side of the room, walking toward them.

"What are you doing?" Narancia demanded, pulling against the ropes holding him. "What the hell do you want!"

"We want cooperation from Bucciarati," said a voice from behind the camera and boy did that make Bruno's blood boil, but he forced himself to keep watching. "And I've been told the best way to do that is to go through his team. Which is why we're making this little video for him. So if you're watching, Bucciarati, pay attention. Your boys will have twenty-four hours after this tape is delivered to you for you to make good on your end of the bargain. And trust me, these two have already caused me enough trouble and loss. I'd be more than justified in doing away with them. So you better show up on the dot or, well, here's a little taste of what my boys will do to them before they get a bullet between the eyes."

Bucciarati clenched his hands tightly as he continued watching the video, heart dropping further as the man standing between the two captives instantly went toward Fugo.

The blond was already visibly shaking, head twitching around at every sound, before practically flipping out as the man got behind him and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back.

"You let go of him!" Narancia snarled, straining in his bonds.

The man pulled out a knife and scraped it lightly down Fugo's exposed throat, making him flinch. The knife continued down over his collarbone and finally hooked into the collar of his shirt. The man flicked his wrist and cut Fugo's shirt open in one swift movement.

Fugo flailed, making a muffled sound of protest and Narancia practically up-ended his chair as he struggled.

"Don't you fucking touch him!" Narancia screamed. "I'll cut your liver out and ram it down your throat!"

"Ah, so that is the one who doesn't like to be touched," said the voice behind the camera. "We made the right choice then."

"You bastards!" Narancia shouted as the man with the knife wrapped one hand around Fugo's neck, holding him steady as he loomed over him from behind in a way that Bruno knew would be incredibly triggering for the young man. He felt the urge to scream like Narancia as he watched Fugo's hands clench against the arms of the chair, visibly trembling. The knife trailed down his chest, leaving red lines in the pale flesh.

"I'll kill all of you if you don't stop touching him! What the hell do you want?!"

The man didn't reply, but some signal seemed to be passed because the man tormenting Fugo put his knife aside and pulled out a set of brass knuckles, clenching his fist around them.

Bruno swore under his breath as he watched Fugo get brutally beaten, bloody welts and deep bruises breaking out across his exposed skin.

Narancia was crying in frustration now, his own attempts at escape forming raw patches of skin where the rope chafed against him.

"Stop it, stop it! Torture me, you assholes! Give him a break!" Narancia pleaded.

The man behind the camera chuckled and walked over to Fugo, waving his goon off for the moment. Fugo was shivering, chest heaving with pained breaths. The man reached out to run his knuckles over Fugo's face and the blond gave a strangled cry and pulled away.

"Does it bother you to see them like this, Bucciarati?" the man asked, glancing over his shoulder at the camera, "Or do you need more convincing?"

God no, Bruno pleaded silently, but there was nothing he could do. Even if he were to run off and find the boys now it wouldn't stop everything that was on this tape.

The goon went off screen and returned with a bucket of water and a cloth. He kicked Fugo's chair over so he was lying helplessly on his back, still bound.

"What are you going to do to him?" Narancia demanded.

Fugo struggled, and the torturer put the cloth over Fugo's face before pouring half the bucket of water over him.

Fugo gagged, struggling desperately against the ropes, trying to turn his head to the side, but with the wet cloth suffocating him and the gag in his mouth, Bruno could only imagine what he was going through.

The rest of the bucket was poured over him, concentrated on his mouth and nose.

The gurgling choking sounds Fugo was making picked up all too well on the camera and Bucciarati felt sick to his stomach, especially accompanied by Narancia's pleading sobs.

"Please stop, he can't breathe! He can't breathe, dammit! You're gonna kill him!"

Another bucket was brought and Narancia finally had to look away, hanging his head as he continued sobbing.

The man from behind the camera walked over to him and grabbed him by the hair, hauling Narancia's tear-stained face up so that he was forced to watch Fugo's struggles weaken, body shuddering as he continued to choke on the water.

"I didn't tell you you could look away, brat. This is your punishment too."

"Fugo, hold on, please hold on!" Narancia cried.

Finally, the torturer took the wet cloth from Fugo's face and shoved his chair onto its side now.

Fugo choked, water spraying out of his nose, more trickling past his gag, but he seemed able to breathe again.

The torturer moved around and kicked Fugo in the chest, forcing more water from his lungs as he choked on the gag.

The man who had Narancia finally released him and returned to the camera, speaking directly into it this time. "Twenty-four hours, Bucciarati. You know what I want." Then the video cut out.

Bucciarati released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, finally unclenching his fists only to realize he had been digging his nails into his palms, leaving bloody crescents there.

He forced himself to look at the note that had accompanied the video tape stating the money asked for and the meeting place.

He swallowed hard and called Abbacchio.

"I know who has them," he said as the other gangster answered. "I'll send you the address of the meeting spot."

He didn't even care at the moment that he was digging into Passione coffers. He would take out this bastard later, spend the next week hunting him down and demolishing his entire gang. As long as he had his boys back safe first, that was all that mattered.

XXX

Narancia had been watching Fugo have a panic attack for the last half hour, feeling so horribly helpless.

They'd been chained up purposefully on opposite sides of the room so Narancia couldn't reach his friend. Couldn't try to loosen the ropes they had wrapped around Fugo making it impossible for him to move and difficult for him to breathe with his soaking gag and injured ribs. Fugo just lay there and shook, breaths shallow and hissing, whimpering every once in a while. He couldn't imagine how hard this was for Fugo right now, blind, helpless, but at least he could still hear, and Narancia constantly spoke to him, trying to keep him as calm as possible.

"Bucciarati will come get us, you know he will," Narancia was saying for the hundredth time. "It's just you and me in here, Fugo. I won't let them touch you again, I swear. I'll kill them first."

He wasn't actually sure if Fugo was hearing any of this, he seemed so far gone, but Narancia continued to strain as far as he could against the chains locking him to the wall, trying to get as close to his friend as he could. He wished he had a humanoid Stand in that moment. Something with hands. It wasn't like he could shoot Fugo's bonds with Aerosmith.

New terror pricked him as he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. He admittedly cowered away as it was flung open, but tears of relief began flowing the instant he saw who it was on the other side.

"B-Bucciarati!" he cried, relief making him collapse.

"Narancia," Bucciarati breathed before calling over his shoulder where sounds of gunfire and fighting could be heard. "I've got the boys! You take care of things out there!"

Sticky Fingers made short work of Narancia's bonds and he was instantly crawling toward Fugo.

"Fugo, Bucciarati and the others are here now. We're getting out of here!"

Fugo was still shaking and Narancia turned pleadingly toward Bucciarati who used his Stand to free Fugo too.

The blond instantly flailed, reaching up to claw at his face, but he was only succeeding in tightening the knots on the gag and blindfold.

"Fugo, wait!" Narancia said, reaching out, only to have Fugo cry out and flinch away. "Hey, it's just me," Narancia was saying. "Here, just give me one hand, okay? So you know where I am."

Fugo's panicked breaths were stifled behind the gag and he was shaking uncontrollably.

"Fugo, just one hand," Narancia pleaded.

Fugo finally stopped tearing at his gag and shakingly held out a hand.

"Okay, I'm going to take your hand, it's just me, I promise."

Narancia reached out and wrapped his fingers around Fugo's, squeezing tightly. Fugo flinched initially, but then caught Narancia's hand in a desperate grip, slumped against the wall.

"That's great! You know I'm here now," Narancia said, smiling reassuringly even though Fugo couldn't see him. "Bucciarati's also here. Can he help you get that crap off your face?"

Following Narancia's lead, Bucciarati knelt and held out a hand. "Panna," he said gently. "You can put you hand on my shoulder so you know where I am. Would that help?"

Fugo gave a jerky nod and hesitantly reached out his other hand.

Bucciarati guided it to his shoulder and Fugo's fingers clenched in his coat.

"Good," Bucciarati murmured. "Now I'm going to get the blindfold and gag off. Is that okay?"

Fugo nodded again and squeezed Narancia's hand hard as Bucciarati unknotted the gag and blindfold as quickly as possible.

Once free, Fugo took a shuddering breath, blinking as he looked around frantically.

"Fugo? Hey," Narancia coaxed and the violet eyes finally landed on him, welling.

Narancia opened his arms, letting Fugo make the decision himself.

The blond took a shuddering breath before he practically collapsed against Narancia, wrapping his arms around him so tightly that Narancia almost couldn't breathe now. Though he certainly didn't mind at all.

Bucciarati let out a weighty sigh and also enveloped them both in a hug, running fingers through Narancia's hair.

"You're both safe now. Let's get you home."

Narancia reluctantly started to pull away but found Fugo's hand caught in his shirt, keeping a tight hold on him.

"Nara," he said, voice hoarse. "Thanks. If you weren't here I…" he took a shuddering breath. "Thank you."

"You know I always have your back," Narancia said, tearing up again as he squeezed Fugo one more time before climbing shakily to his feet and helping his friend up, allowing Fugo to lean on him. "Are you good?"

"I'll be fine," Fugo replied tiredly, stumbling out after Bucciarati who kept his watchful eye on them. Narancia silently promised to stay with Fugo through his recovery. If he had been forced to watch his torture then he chose to watch over his friend while he was healing as well.

[osachiyo]

searched pervy xavier here and am very disappointed that i do not share this notion with anyone else 😔

tws: n/sfw content, panty stealing, getting caught, mentions of non-consensual recording, masturbation, reader brings other ppl home, he’s a lil pathetic but we love him, 0.6k+ wc, jealous!xavier, he’s a lil nasty tbh, my writing is messy here cuz I wrote this on a whim apologies if there are any errors ₊ 𓂃 also nonnie me 🤝 you … but imagine him as your pervy roommate . ps. art by rororo_mg on X + star dividers made by @saradika-graphics (check emout!)

Perv roommate!Xavier thinks you’re so damn cute, honestly, you're just the sweetest thing ever. Every morning, he can't help but smile when he sees you in the kitchen, making breakfast for the both of you. There's something about the way you move so effortlessly, humming to yourself while you cook, that completely melts his heart and makes his cock stir in his sweats. He can’t help but stare at the little shorts barely covering your plump ass fully.. fantasizing about walking up behind you and bending you over the kitchen counter. Xavier imagined how your cunt would taste on his tongue- how your pussy would gush in his face as he ate you out like a man starved.

perv roommate!Xavier makes a habit to purposefully drop stuff in front of you, giving you his best puppy eyes and requesting that you pick it up for him, and it worked like a charm every time. Little did you know that it was only an excuse to have you bend over in front of him— azure eyes raking over the tempting view you put on, saliva gathering in his mouth as he stared at the roundness of your ass. Hell, he could even see your puffy pussy lips through your tight shorts— were you wearing them on purpose?

perv roommate!Xavier who knows about your little toys— the baby pink vibrator that you use at night, not knowing your roommate is pleasuring himself to your sweet little moans and yelps. His hand squeezing his cock tightly, trying to imagine how your soft cunt would feel around him— or even your cute little mouth. He’d try and match his thrusts to your moans, and it makes him cum embarrassingly quick— sticky white goop spilling on his bedroom floor and hands, leaving him panting. Maybe he should set up a camera in your room sometime..

perv roommate!Xavier who gets jealous when you bring a random guy home one night, telling him that you’ll try not to be loud. ‘Why would you bring another guy home when he was right there?’ — he thought, as he heard the wet, lewd sounds of you getting fucked by another man. Fuck, it made him mad but also he couldn’t help but get turned on by it. The sounds of your bed creaking- slamming against the wall, your wails and cries of pleasure as you got pounded into the sheets made Xavier’s cock throb in his pants. God, he really was a freak— getting off to another man fucking the girl he liked.

perv roommate!Xavier who would insist on doing laundry for the both of you— but that's only an excuse to steal your panties. He can't help it, y'know? They're so cute and pretty.. and just perfect to wrap around his cock while he fucks his fist with the thought of you in his mind. Sometimes he even likes to sniff 'em, groaning out loud as the scent of your pussy floods his senses. He can't help but lap his tongue over the small wet spot on the thin material, suckling at the spot where your clit would be— moaning and whining as spurts of pre leaked from his cock.

perv roommate!Xavier who was currently jerking his cock with your used panties wrapped around his cock in the living room— shamelessly getting off to the thought of fucking your sweet, warm little hole while you were at work. He was so focused on how you would feel around him, that he didn't even hear the front door open. You could only gasp at the sight— his cream colored sweater pulled up and pants pulled down, and clenching and unclenching with each pump of his hand- wait.. were those your panties?! Before you could even reprimand him— or even get a word in, for that matter, Xavier's head whipped to your direction as he heard the small noise— his panicked blue eyes catching your own shocked ones.

"Oh. Shit."

[konigsblog]

Loser!König who secretly records during sex. (🌽 link)

TW/CW: NON-CONSENSUAL RECORDING, PERV!KÖNIG.

Can you really blame him at the end of the day? The poor, neglected antisocial bastard can barely help himself from whipping out his phone sneakily during sex, his thumb hovering over the record button to catch a brief moment of your tight rear bouncing back against his sturdy, broad hips. He's practically frozen, too stunned and aroused to move as his voice trembles and wavers, thanking you for your generosity and kind, sweet offer over and over until he's mumbling and babbling and drooling all over himself through ecstasy.

He overthinks every decision he makes, anxious that it'll become obvious that he's inexperienced — although, it wouldn't take a genius to figure that out. When he places his giant hand against your supple rear, he struggles to catch his breath at the thought of upsetting you rushes through his perverted mind. His dull and clipped fingernails digging into the flesh and plush on your ass. “Oh Gott— Keep moving– bitte!” König's words are muffled and jumbled as he switches between German and English, an incoherent and murmured string of curse words slipping from his soft lips at the sickening thoughts rotting his mind away.

He keeps these videos for himself, becoming overly paranoid and stressed about you catching him in the debauched and sexual act. He's too worked up and exhausted one late night in his apartment that he doesn't think twice before relieving himself with his favourite personal video. The thought of being caught red-handed had slipped his mind, and before König could shut down his laptop and apologise profusely for being an animalistic and depraved loser, you'd caught him, looming over his shoulder, your eyes glued to the graphic video playing on his computer. He didn't notice your lingering presence over his shoulder, too distracted by the pleased noises coming from his computer, determined to reach his orgasm. König was too busy lazily jerking himself off to think properly, ‘til he felt your hand replace his.

—Out of pity, of course. Clearly König yearns for your touch, right? Let's help him out, yeah? Give him something to remember.

[depravitycentral]

Tw: stalking, dub-con turned non-con but the reader is still kind of into it, recording, non-consensual recording, physical assault, threats, reader's kind of a freak in this

Thinking of yanderes who are so, so desperate to be intimate with you that they’re willing to go by your terms and adhere to the conditions you lay out for them.

You don’t want to touch him, not really – not with everything you know he’s done. You know he’s stalked you incessantly, following you like your shadow for months on end with no sense of privacy or personal space, intruding on every aspect of your personal life with only a passing sense of guilt.

(He’s watched you sleep, even settling beside you on your bed and watching the rise and fall of your chest, listening to the soft inhales and exhales, even going so far as to let his mouth hover over yours, breathing in the air of your soft little snores. He’s watched you shower, setting up cameras and staring through windows to see even a peek of your nude figure, palming himself and practically drooling because fuck, he would cut off his own limb to be washing your hair for you or soaping down your back, your thighs, your tits…)

You know he’s threatened others, blackmailed friends, family, and partners, perhaps even permanently eliminated potential rivals. You know he’s gone to extreme lengths to keep you right where he  wants you, to keep you within his imaginary grasp so that he can finally, finally make the final move to make you officially his.

He's a creep in every sense of word, but perhaps you’re a bit of a creep, too, because there’s something about the raw, carnal desperation he’s exhibiting for you that almost feels good. It’s flattering in a fucked up way, making your self-confidence skyrocket because here’s this grown man that’s absolutely whipped for you, willing to do all sorts of illegal and depraved things just for your allowance of him to breath the same air and occupy the same space as you.

You may not be a particularly egocentric person, but perhaps you can indulge his little obsession. Perhaps it’s boredom, excitement at just how pathetically eager he is, or maybe it’s even a genuine sort of fondness and attraction you’ve developed for him – regardless, the next time he begs for you to please, please just give him a single chance to show you that he can make you feel good, you’re biting your lip and nodding, interrupting his stuttered gasp and shocked r-really with a few conditions of your own.

And yet, no matter what conditions you lay forward, things don’t go quite as you’d planned, quite as you’d hoped. Somehow you lose control of the situation, and before you can stop it you realize you’ve opened the floodgates, the truly breadth of his yearning and disregard for morality uncomfortably obvious. Somehow, the creep manages to bend you to his whim – showcasing just how dangerous and strong his Loverboy, eager-to-please façade had been. Because now, the man hovering over you and groaning declarations of love and devotion is suddenly very strong and very impossible to push off of you.

And yet, his creep has rubbed off onto you, because you’re almost enjoying it.

And now, for the sake of imagination, let’s say you give one of three possible conditions…

He’s not allowed to touch you.

It’s a proposition that makes him whine, disappointment settling deep in his chest because how is he supposed to show you what you’re missing out on if he can’t kiss you or touch you or stuff you so full of his cock that you’re dazed and nonsensical?

It irritates him, but the prospect of getting to touch himself with you looking at him is enough to get him agreeing, and you’ll find yourself sitting in front of him, fully clothed even while he’s stripped down to nothing, red, swollen cock in hand as he furiously brings his wrist up and down. It’s loud – squelching and making bassy, tacky thump noises with each slam of his fist against his navel, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s too busy staring at you, eyes seemingly unblinking even when they’re half-closed in lust.

It’s arousing at first to watch a man so blatantly and needily masturbating to you, but the moment that your eyes stray from him and his body he’s faltering, fury sprouting from his gut because how dare you not be looking at him during this. How dare you not contribute the same amount of attention and intimacy that he is. How dare you ignore him like he’s just some little puny bug when he’s whining and gasping about every little explicit, detailed fantasy he’s had of you.

And he’s moving before you know it, grabbing your clothed wrists in a single hand and pinning them above your head, keeping your thighs trapped between his own as he ruts into his fist, the smell and sound overwhelming now as he hovers over you.

Look at me look at me look at me he’s chanting to you, voice strained and uneven as the pleasure mounts, the scared look in your eye only making him harder, precum oozing from his sensitive tip in copious amounts, even dripping down his knuckles and lightly staining your shirt.

It’s not long before he’s coming, crying out your name and pressing his crotch against your body, cum spurting out to cover your torso, even getting a little bit against your neck and chin, the hot, slimy sensation making you squirm.

He’s panting, and as he resumes stroking himself, hissing and wincing slightly at the overstimulation, he’ll only breathily laugh down at you, smile too wide and his cheeks too flushed as he reminds you that I’m not touching you, am I? Fabric separating us still, but isn’t this good? D’you like being covered in my spunk?

It feels like hours before he finally lets his fist slow down, cum covering your chest, but with the majority of his releases concentrated over the expanse of your cunt, seeping through the fabric of your jeans and leaving the skin below feeling wet, the sheer volume impressive and leaving you to wonder how he hasn’t passed out from exhaustion.

He’ll groan, eyes fluttering closed briefly before opening up wide, leaning down so that he’s merely a breath away from your lips, murmuring next time, we’ll do this again and I’ll stick to your fucking rules, but a condom counts as not touching, right? Right?

Kyojuro Rengoku, Gyutarou, Koushi Sugawara, Atsumu Miya, Yuu Nishinoya, Koutarou Bokuto, Hawks, Jin Bubaigawara, Nobunaga Hazama, Uvogin, Leorio Paradinight

2. You want another person present in the room.

Maybe it’s a safety precaution, or perhaps this is the chance to play out some long-standing fantasy of a threesome you’ve had for longer than you’d care to admit. Regardless, he’s not pleased about the prospect of sharing you, but the months of wringing himself dry to the point of rashes and skin-rubbed-raw leave him babbling out a yes, promising to include whoever you desire.

Except, maybe you really are a sadist because of course you choose the man he hates most.

It’s a slap in the face but he manages to pull through, irritation already coursing through him the moment the three of you settle onto the bed, but things only get progressively worse. Almost immediately, the fucker is stealing your attention – pulling you in for a messy, loud kiss, and it makes his skin crawl to see the way your eyes close, how you lean into the kiss, how you guide his hands to cup your tits and grope at your thighs.

The intruder is far too comfortable, and as your yandere grabs you and physically puts you onto the other side of the bed so that he’s sitting between you two, he can only swallow. He’s immediately leaning in for a kiss of his own, lips working against yours in a fervor, hands unable to stay still as he yanks at the hem of your shift, ripping the material. He’s groaning against you, moving hurriedly as he tries to strip you, unwilling to let the intruder do anything as monumental and intimate as undressing you. But it’s too late, because the man is moving to your other side, pressing his navel against your ass and biting at your ear, and you’re breaking the kiss to moan and he thinks he’s going to be sick because the intruder’s hand is slipping under your skirt.

He slaps the man’s hand away, sending him a glare that makes even a shiver roll down your spine, before shoving his hand between your thighs instead, sucking in a breath because he knows what panties you’re wearing by feel, the pretty black ones that make your ass look so damn good, the one he’s stolen and jerked himself with so many times that it’s making a sort of Pavlov response hit him and oh oh oh no no no he can’t come yet oh please god no –

The moment is ruined, though, because the intruder’s kissing you again, suddenly slapping your thigh with his cock and telling you to beg for it, pretty girl, tell me you want it and something inside your yandere just sort of snaps.

He’s got the man on the ground before he can stop himself, fists raised and connecting with the man’s face, blood already covering his knuckles with just a few hits. He’s growling, a sort of inhuman sound that leaves his teeth bared, audible even over the man’s pained whimpers, even as the consciousness slips from his eyes and he goes limp against the ground, chest rising and falling very slowly.

And you’re still on the bed, staring with a dropped jaw and fear swimming in those pretty eyes as your yandere comes back to you, blood staining his palms and speckling his shirt, his breathing ragged as he shoves your head down to his crotch, telling you suck it clean or I’ll kill him, a smirk settling on his lips as you immediately hollow your cheeks.

And as he maneuvers you onto your knees, fingertips groping and kneading at your cheeks as he fucks into you from behind hard enough to leave your ass ricocheting and jiggling, it’s difficult to not hear the way he breathily laughs, thumb coming around to pinch at your clit as he tells you didn’t break your rule, there’s still another person in the room, isn’t there? Stupid fucker’s just not able to see how well you take my cock.

He’s shoving your face too far into the mattress to respond though, so he only answers himself with a slurred groan of ‘m coming, fuck take it take it –

Sanemi and Giyuu, Akaza and Douma, Oikawa and Kageyama, Kuroo and Daichi, Daishou and Kuroo, Tsukishima and Hinata, Shigaraki and Dabi, Endeavor and All Might, Nobunaga and Franklin

3. You want everything on camera.

Maybe it’s a kink for being recorded or maybe you simply want hard evidence to be able to use against him when you eventually take him to court, confident that he’ll let something incriminating slip out. Regardless, he’s very, very eager to fulfill your request, only growing slightly camera shy when the time finally comes.

It’s not a complicated set up, really – you’ve got a tripod of sorts with your phone balanced on it, the video rolling and centered on the bed where you’re settled in his lap. He’s clutching at you, making all sorts of little whimpers and whines as you kiss him, his lips eager and insistent and his tongue immediately pushing into your mouth the moment he can. It’s sticky sounding, and you’re sure the camera can pick it up.

When you pull back for air, letting your shirt come up and over your head, you’re almost embarrassed at the way he immediately shoves his face between your breasts, violently shaking his head back and forth, not paying attention to the way your bra cups poke at his eyes. He’s mouthing at your nipples over the fabric, even going so far as to dig one out of the cup, sucking and licking at it. His free hands travel down the expanse of your back, tracing the muscles under the skin and eventually settling at your ass, moving you to grind on his already very hard cock.

He pulls back with a little pop noise, licking his lips and looking up at you almost dazed. So pretty, he mumbles to himself, squeezing his hands, and you can only shiver in both excitement and discomfort as he starts rambling.

Been dreaming of this for so long, baby, stalked you for so long that I know exactly how to touch you, how to fuck ya… Been touching myself too much to the thought of you, huh? Feel how fucking hard I am just from a bit of kissing and touching?

He giggles at that, nipping at your nipple and enjoying the way you squirm slightly.

Broke into your apartment almost every day the last year, stolen your stuff and licked every utensil you own. Wore your panties and sucked on your toothbrush, stole your mail and hacked into your laptop and phone cameras just to get a front row view of you.

The information makes your stomach drop and you stiffen in his hold, his his insistent, guided grinds against his crotch only pick up.

Touched you while you slept, too, but I think you already knew that. You’re hard to wake up, y’know? And you make this cute little whine when I finger you, but this is much better right now. You’re hotter when you’re awake, but I’ll take you either way.

It’s ten more minutes of dreadful, disturbing admissions from him as he grinds you against him and suckles at your chest, leaving your nipples sore and bruised, puffy and overly-sensitive. The camera’s still rolling, and it’s only when he curls in on himself, a strained f-fuck spilling past his lips as something warm and wet seeps through his boxers that he slows down, stopping and cupping at your tits, squeezing harshly and burying his face in them once more for a brief moment.

He detaches himself, walking over to your phone and ending the video, before pulling his own out and replacing it with yours, walking back over to you and licking his lips.

Hey now that we’ve got yours and I’ve confessed to all the shit you wanted me to, it’s my turn, yeah? We make a video for you, now we make a sex tape for me. Oh, don’t make that face – ‘m not going to show it to anyone. Well, except maybe you, would you like to watch it back with me?

He doesn’t give you time to respond as he flips you onto your stomach, displaying a level of strength that shocks you, keeping you flat against the bed as he pulls you towards him so that you’re dangling off the edge, ass bared to the camera. He giggles, tracing a fingers against your clothed cunt, before slapping at it harshly, enjoying the way you squirm.

Let’s put on a good show, huh? I’m thinking…

He lets a leg stand on either side of your hips, settling himself so that his chest is pressed flush against your back, lips brushing at your ear as he murmurs we’ll start like this, the angle will be really good, I promise. Trust me, ‘ve watched a lot of porn – you’ll look good like this.

Then he’s forcing you into his lap, facing the camera and making your legs spread wide, a hand slipping into your shorts and toying with your clit. Then like this – think I can make you squirt? Think it’ll reach the camera from all the way over here?

Finally, he’s forcing you onto your knees while he stands over you, the camera right at your face level as he pets at your hair, sighing dreamily and saying and we’ll finish it like this – be loud, okay? Wanna see you gagging and choking. And if you don’t swallow, I’ll just have to do it again – thoughts on throatfucking?

And as he settles you onto your stomach, mounting you and letting the camera roll as he fucks into you hard enough to leave you screaming his name, he’ll only whisper in your ear between hearty groans and the slap of his balls against your ass remember, you wanted the video sweetheart.

Douma, Tengen Uzui, Rintarou Suna, Kenma Kozume, Tooru Oikawa, Dabi, Hizashi Yamada, Shalnark (like a LOT), Uvogin

Be careful what you wish for, because with your rule in place, they will bend it to work to their advantage – but don’t be too hard on yourself for enjoying it. After all, they know you better than you know yourself – can you really be surprised that they know exactly what will turn you on, too?

[yolelejiju]

Satoru’s favorite toy

This was influenced by a request I received. It’s not been checked so will probably have grammatical errors here and there.

TW: stepcest, pseudo incest, noncon, somno, choking, non consensual recording

Don’t like, don’t interact,

StepBro! Satoru who leans he’s soon going to be having a new sister after his father remarries the mistress who shattered his family

StepBro! Satoru who seethes at the thought of having to share with some sluts bastard child

StepBro! Satoru who builds up resentment towards you before meeting you just to have it all disappear upon meeting you in person

StepBro! Satoru who no longer resents his father for remarrying but is grateful for him bringing home a new toy

StepBro! Satoru who offers to help set up your new bedroom but instead is hides hidden cameras in multiple areas of your room.

Clueless you who would never think that the smoke detector on your ceiling could be anything insidious nor do you ever question the plugs on your walls, sure they look slightly different from the ones in the common areas but you pay it no mind.

Clueless you who thinks locking your door grants you the privacy to undress or the privacy to slide your hand between your legs and rub circles on your clit while muffling your cute whimpers.

StepBro! Satoru who goes through the footage of you in your room every night, his right hand on the mouse and his left gripping his hard cock

He takes screenshots of your body, sharing them with his friend Suguru, showing off that he got a “hot stepsis” and sleezy Suguru who just loves to get off to naive cute girls like yourself, hoping he gets a turn after Satoru gets his hands on you

It wasn’t much longer before he did get his hands on you. It was during the winter, your parents left for vacation and to Satoru’s convenience, you got sick and had to stay home in bed whilst he was left to care for you.

He made sure you got all the supplements and medicine prescribed and then some. Maybe he did add a sleeping pill into the mix every now and then. Maybe he did take advantage of your unconscious figure each time you passed out.

He would take your limp hand into his and stroke his hard leaking girth with it. Chills crawled up his spine as he felt your soft fingers graze the veins decorating his shaft. He wrapped his hand around yours, and begin stroking himself with a tight grip.

While your breathing remained slow and even paced his started to speed up, the excitement of his hot sister touching his cock turned him in so much but the smug pride he feels for taking advantage of your unconscious form is what’s making his eyes roll back.

As his hips begin to pick up speed he began to pant and worry less about remaining quiet. What does it matter if you wake, you can’t beat him, especially not in your current state. You were so sick you could barely feed yourself. You probably got sick on purpose, desperate for your big brother Satoru’s attention.

Sure he could have any girl he wanted but all he wanted right now is to conquer you.

He grew sick of using your hand and wanted something more, something wet, something tight. He dropped your hand and it limply fell, hanging off the side of the bed, letting the cool night air dry off the precum that dripped down the palm of your hand.

The bed started to sink as he began to crawl on top of you. His legs straddling your weak body as you foolishly slept without a clue of the danger you were in.

He hunched his body forward and pushed his lips against yours, his tongue grazing your bottom lip before sitting back up onto his haunches and scooting further up your body. At this point his legs were on either side of your shoulders, he caressed your face, dragging his hand from your temple to yours chin, gently pulling your mouth open. He slid just the tip of his length between your lips, enjoying the sensation of your tongue instinctively rubbing itself against his mushroom head.

He began to tilt his hips further as more and more of his length slid into your mouth. When he felt his dick hit the back of your throat he heard you gag, and briefly worried about you waking up. But all you did was twist up your face and continue to sleep. So he felt more comfortable to push himself further and deeper. Once he was so deep he could feel your throat grip his cock as it tried to dislodge the obstruction. You started to gag more but he kept slowly rocking his hips back and forth barely giving you time to breathe.

Your lashes began to flutter as your eyes struggled to open, unable to process whats in front of them. You don’t quite know it yet but what you’re staring at is your step brothers lower abdomen, what you feel tickling your nose is his bluntly shaved pubic hair brushing against your upper lip and nose every time he thrust forward.

Your struggle to breathe jolts you awake, and you immediately grip at his thighs to stop him from moving, but your sleepy weak body is no match for him, satoru is too lost chasing his own orgasm to care that you’re awake, to care that he might be hurting you, ignoring your hands squeezing against his thighs he simply interlocks his fingers in the back of your head and holds you in place so he can continue abusing your throat over and over again. Every time you tries to scream your voice would cause vibrations along his length sending him over the edge.

He tightly gripped your hair and pushed your face against his pelvis as he pumped load after load down your throat. With his dick shoved so far down your throat you had no choice but to swallow it all like the good girl you are.

When he climbed from on top of you, your lungs immediately fought to get back the air they lost. You heaved and coughed regurgitating some of his several loads of cum before you were able to breathe normal again.

By the time you came to, Satoru was long gone from your room, you struggled to process all that happened to you before inevitably falling back to sleep.

[dog-bimbo]

nasty, 1cky bf!shiu headcanons tw fem!reader, dark content, smut, explicit language, p in v, unprotected sex, dumbification, humiliation, degradation, breeding kink, mentions of babytrapping and gangbanging, recordings and non consensual sharing of said recordings, threesomes, anal, shoe humping, power dynamics, shiu is older than the reader (18+ only!), spanking, intimidation involving a lit cigarette, hickeys 18+ only minors and ageless blogs do not interact !

nasty, 1cky bf!shiu loves loves looooves when things get sloppy. sloppy kisses after a long day of work, sloppy blowjobs till he can see strings of saliva and cum breaking off after he has busted a load, sloppy pussy eating till his face is glistening with your slick, sloppy sex cuz he goes for a round two just to make sure that he has fucked the cum deep inside till he's kissing and stretching ur cervix in that mean mating press

speaking of mating presses, i'm pretty sure that nasty, 1cky bf!shiu also loooooooooooves breeding you like there's no fucking way the condom stays on for more than one round and while he's kind of iffy about kids, he'd love to see your womb swell with his babies. he has definitely tried to babytrap u multiple times </3

nasty, 1cky bf!shiu records his sweetheart in slutty outfits or something like that cuz i knoooooooow he has an old handycam lying around to try out shit like this with you. he's alright with anything as long as it's short and skimpy but a playboy bunny suit is what he likes the most. he sits on the couch, one hand holding the camera and the other ashing the cigarette inside the empty beer can—he looked a bit intimidating. you stand in front of him with your hands tied behind your back, your thumb and index fidgeting with the silky fabric of the cuffs. it's a bit dark as he had dimmed the lights down for a more sensual feel to all this.

nasty, 1cky bf!shiu is older than you, more experienced and has a refined taste in the things he enjoys. he prefers details in his p0rn0s—the material of your stockings and the skin that peaks out of it, your clothed mound, your quivering lips, the bump of your throat bobbing slightly as you swallow, sweatdrops slowly trickling down your skin... you look back, blushing as he looms through your rear end, capturing the swell of your ass with his cam. "higher." is all he murmurs. you lower your face and arch your back a little higher. you're getting more and more debased as he zooms. as you squirm into the sheets, his hands grip around your waist and he flips you over, shocking you out of your bashfulness for a mere second before he spreads your legs and settles between them. "'nuff of this..." and he looks even scarier from this angle with his grin... "you're not gonna show this to anyone, right?" you pout, "no fucking way," he reaches out to caress your cheek softly, "i'm not that kind of a jackass, doll."

but nasty, 1cky bf!shiu is exactly that... at some point, he has shown all of these recordings to his closest clients and the assassins that he brokers. their crotches go damp just thinking about being in you for 3 seconds. he's into sharing just to see you broken. sometimes you're sandwiched between his sweaty, pervy clients, sometimes it's toji who's just as sweaty and pervy but easier to look at. whoever it is, pind1cks or horsec0cks, you feel so fucking full cuz he never lets them fuck your cunny cuz that's molded just for him and no one else. everything else is free range—your mouth, your hands, or the clients personal favourite—your ass.

there are times when nasty, 1cky bf!shiu makes you ride his shoe... the delicious friction that the stitches and the laces provide makes you forget all the humiliation that you're going through right now. he's got a bored look on his face but his cock's straining his damn boxers as you're humping him stupidly. if he's feeling generous, he's gonna provide more friction by rubbing his outsole against your clothed mound.

when you get off the sick shit, nasty, 1cky bf!shiu pounces on the opportunity to degrade you. sometimes it's the cute ones like dollface and sweetheart and bunny with that cruel, condescending tone. but sometimes it's cumslut and cumdump and many other colourful words with this sharp bite that each and every syllable bears. you're his dumb little bimbo bitch and he's gonna remind you of that time after time.

nasty, 1cky bf!shiu isn't too afraid to be rough with you. he likes getting the burnt end of the cigarette just close enough for you to flinch out of fear, he likes the red blossoming on your skin everytime he spanks or smacks you during sex, he likes it when you gasp the minute the sharp slap on your cunt shocks you out of that blissful haze and there's absolutely nothing he loves more than your hickeys turning purple the next morning...

[cherriemi]

Trivia Night

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

in: reid has always noticed every tiny detail about you, the slight change in your hair or attitude. so when you throw a birthday party and include a trivia game for your unit to learn more about you, spencer gets every question right.

tw: improper capitalization, fluff, non-consensual kiss (let me know if there is anything else!)

a/n: this is my FIRST ff writing in years, so yes it’s bad and yes i’m rusty. please be nice to me :,(

wc: 2.3k

you walked into the office… and he could instantly tell something was off. it didn’t take long until he remembered that your hair was now shorter. you had gotten a haircut and he would be first to comment.

“did you get a haircut y/n?” he asked as you placed your bag on your desk. you nodded, “is it that short??” messing with your hair and seeing if the ends are shorter than you had remembered. “no, i like it.” a smile formed on his face. “thank you.” you looked away, flustered. 

he always noticed changes first. they were compliments, questions of concern. it never weirded you out as he admitted to having an eidetic memory. it just frustrated you that he always knew what was different. 

“i haven’t seen you in red… it compliments your undertones a lot.” 

“your makeup looks different, did you put on eyeliner? i quite like it.” 

“what happened to your finger? be careful next time okay?” 

“let’s get started for our case review.” hotchner poked his head out from the conference room. you grabbed what you needed and head up the steps with reid just behind you.

it was your birthday! you had invited your co-workers as they were the only people you really knew. joining the team only half a year ago, you moved away from your dream location but moved into a better job. 

you anxiously waited for someone to show up. your apartment was decorated, food cooked and the vinyl record playing smooth jazz. one of your favorite records, it was a compilation of a few popular artists and songs. you had found it selling for $2.99 at an estate sale back from your old job. 

you heard a couple voices from outside the door and then a knock. you rushed to the door, checking the peephole. it was hotchner and prentiss. 

the door door swung open, “happy birthday!!” emily prentiss cheerily pulled you in for a hug. hotchner smiled, repeating back what emily said with a back pat. “gifts can go over there.” your hand gestured towards the kitchen island. 

soon enough derek morgan and penelope garcia showed up, then jennifer and rossi. the party already seemed to be starting but you knew someone was missing. spencer reid appeared, exactly 25 minutes later than you had told the group chat. 

“come on reid!” derek and jennifer teased the boy. he was red on the face, a card in one hand and the other holding onto the strap of his messenger bag. he was dressed as he usually was: dress shoes, trousers, and a button up with a vest over. “sorry, i had to take the subway.” he responded. 

you grabbed the card from his hands, “it’s okay reid, go ahead and help yourself.” you set the card on the island as he walked over towards the pots and pans. he helped himself to some chicken and pasta. 

after the eating and cake cutting, it was gift giving time. you opened all the gifts in the kitchen while everyone watched. most of your co-workers gifted you a card with money but penelope had gifted wrapped a gift for you. you torn it open and found a bow ribbon set. you smiled and hugged her. 

you called everyone to the living room. emily, jennifer, penelope and derek had crushed themselves on the loveseat while rossi claimed the single seater you had. you grabbed your two only other chairs and placed them next to where rossi was. hotchner and reid sat in the new present chairs. 

you grabbed your phone which was connected to the tv and opened a slideshow, “y/n’s trivia night.” read rossi.

penelope sat up, “oh i am so good at these!” 

you reached behind the tv and checked for the gift card. “i thought that since i was the newest addition to the team… i would have a trivia game so you could learn more about me!” you pulled out a $50 visa gift card, “i prepared a prize for the 1st place winner… a $50 visa gift card!” everyone cooed at the possibility for a prize. “free money? now i’m in!” rossi joked. 

the first round was a multiple choice section, and each correct answer was worth 1 point. you explained the rules to your co-workers. the first question appeared on the slide. what is y/n’s favorite color? 

C. B. A. A. D. E. B. “the correct answer is B, one point to penelope and reid!” penelope nudged derek as he groaned. you assumed they had argued about your favorite color. 

another question, when is y/n’s birthday?

A. A. A. A. B. D. C. “the correct answer is… C! point to reid!” everyone groaned, especially those at the loveseat. they all answered your trick question, which had the incorrect year. 

you finished out the round 1 questions until everyone noticed a pattern. reid had gotten every single question correct. penelope would be a close second if 6 and 4 were neighbors. then emily and jennifer were tied, hotchner at 5th, rossi at 6th and derek dead last. penelope teased derek after the rankings were called out. 

you introduced round two, a free response round where each question was worth two. you admitted this round had more leeway as you could get 1 point for getting part of the answer but it had to be specific enough to warrant the 2 points. 

this round went by slower. without the help of given answers they had to use their brain power to create an answer. the first question was rough for many. hotchner got the single point for guessing your favorite childhood tv show but reid ultimately got the 2 points for getting the entire title. 

round two was so horrible, you ended up having to provide one hint per person to get points. you would have regretted making it a free response section if reid hadn’t gotten all the questions right again. 

you read the rankings, reid, penelope, hotchner, jennifer, emily, rossi and derek. 

you announced the third and final round. “it’s a single question.” everyone relaxed. “this question is worth double all your points.” everyone sat up. everyone but derek, rossi and emily had a chance to overcome reid, but it all came down to if reid missed the question. 

you read the question. gave them a few minutes as you served more champagne. after the minutes were up you counted down from 3 and had everyone revealed their answers. to everyone’s surprise reid had gotten the answer correct. almost exact to how you worded it on the tv. 

you read the final results. “last place is tied with derek and rossi at 5 points… emily with 8, hotchner with 10, jennifer with 11, penelope with 14 and reid with… 36.” 

derek stood up, “cheaters don’t win!” reid was red at the attention. you pulled the visa gift card and handed it to reid with a smile. penelope clapped for reid and joined jennifer, hotchner and rossi. derek was pouting. “excuse derek, he’s being a jerk.” peneople elbowed derek. 

the party went on for another hour until derek and peneople noted the time. “we have to go y/n, sorryyy.” peneople apologized. you bid them farewell. soon enough emily and jennifer wanted to leave as well. with emily and jennifer leaving, rossi and hotchner left after wishing you happy birthday for the third time. 

you were wrapping the food when reid entered after his bathroom break. “did everyone leave?” he asked. 

“yup, you can leave too… it won’t bug me.” you reassured reid in case he was waiting to leave. 

he approached you in the kitchen. “do you need help?” you looked at him, “if you could wrap the left over pasta, i would appreciate that.” 

he grabbed a sheet a tinfoil and sealed the ends. “could i actually take some of the pasta home?” he asked. you nodded, “of course! take however much you’d like.” you handed him a container. 

he spooned the pasta into the container. “you’re a wonderful cook y/n.” another compliment. 

“thank you,” escaped a smile while you felt your cheeks get warm. you pushed your lower back against the island. reid was taking more pasta. “are you a cheater?” you asked. 

he shut the container before turning around. “i’ve never dated so-“ 

“no i mean the game.” you cut through. he turned red. “how would i cheat?” it was a question of interest. he didn’t know the answer which was out of the norm for him. “i’m just surprised you got a perfect 100 on my trivia game.” 

reid’s mouth turned upwards, “eidetic memory y/n.” the eye contact was too much. “you say that, but can’t tell hotchner when his birthday is.” you rebutted. it was a question that hotchner blurted out during the game. emily prentiss, rossi and even derek knew his birthday but spencer had failed to come up with the correct answer. 

reid was chewing the inside of his mouth. “hotchner is old and uninteresting.” he jabbed at his boss. “and i am?” he nodded. “new people are always more interesting.” 

you had looked away. reid’s eye contact was too much for you. it was odd, he almost never could hold eye contact with anyone on the team but you? come to think of it, this was the first time since being transferred to the BAU that you and reid were alone. whenever the team split, reid was somehow in your group by chance but when it was one on one, you were paired with jennifer or hotchner.

in the beginning hotchner just wanted to get to see your working style and see how you handled people. after the first months, you had built a relationship with jennifer and she always pulled you away. she loved to hear what you thought about the other members, but you never told her the truth about reid. as a new member, it would leave a sour taste in their mouths if you immediately had issues with one member.

it wasn’t an issue though, it was more of an observation. 

he knew when you were born, he knew where you had transferred from, he knew your favorite genre of music and books, and now he knew where you lived. “is everything okay y/n?” reid cut through the silence. 

you realized it had been a couple minutes of silence. you avoided his eye contact and were zoning out. “yes…” you replied. reid stepped closer. “are you sure?” here he was asking you questions. he can sense the change in you. “yes, reid.” you replied. 

reid paused. “i got you a gift,” he dug into his bag, “but i was worried you wouldn’t like it.” he pulled out a small box. one that looked like it would house a necklace. he moved closer to you and reached his arm out. 

you took the box and opened it. inside was a necklace. gold, heart shaped with a beautiful gem in the middle that shined with the kitchen lights. “oh, it’s so pretty reid.” you lifted the necklace out of the box, unclasped it and slipped it on. 

reid analyzed. you could hear his breathing. in and out. in and out. once the necklace was on, reid asked, “does it fit well?” you knew it took a lot of effort, “perfectly.” you mumbled in response. 

reid hadn’t stepped back. you two were closer than ever. his hand brushed against clothing and reached for your chin. he lifted your face to look him in the eye. your cheeks were warming up faster than ever.

you both stayed silent. his hand wrapped around, sitting politely on your cheek. then before you could react, he leaned forward, his lips touching yours. 

at first, you were surprised at the sudden gestures of reid. he was quite germaphobic, refusing to even shake hands. that was your first lesson in the fbi, reid didn’t like being touched. he took the largest step back when you went in for a hand shake and hotchner behind you, “he doesn’t like hand shakes, i should’ve told you that.”

you could not resist. his lips were soft, his hand warmed your cheek and his free arm found it’s way around your waist. your body spoke that he wasn’t being rejected, and he pulled you in closer. 

it felt like the kiss had lasted minutes when he finally pulled back. “sorry,” he apologized, stepping back.

before he could go any further, you grabbed his collar and pulled him into another kiss. now he was surprised but that didn’t last longer than a split second. he cupped your face and kissed you. you opened your mouth slightly and he slipped his tongue inside, feeling around you. he pulled back taking the messenger bag he had donned all night off. returning, he held onto your waist while you reached for the back of his neck. 

everything clicked for you. he remembered all the small and obscure details about you because he was interested in you. when you told reid your favorite color because he noticed the different tops you had of that one color, when you told reid that your birthday was the reason for your favorite season. everytime reid asked you if you had changed your hair or makeup, it was because he had remembered that you keep your hair down and your makeup minimal. 

you pulled back, “you remembered everything about me because you were interested didn’t you.” reid was blushed, you weren’t sure if it was due to the kissing or the comment or maybe he was just hot. “i’m guilty…” he nodded, avoiding eye contact.

you begged reid to tell you the when and why. he was so embarrassed. admitting that he had never had a crush, and he asked hotchner what it meant to have an anxious feeling around a woman. “hotchner laughed at me and said that i was too smart to not know what attraction was.” reid told you. it was safe to say, that reid did not leave your apartment that night– in fact… he stayed the night at your apartment quite often. 

[mochiroreo]

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

Dark!reader x Rafe Cameron

TW: M18+ NON-CON, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, implied heavy smut at the end, degradation, non-consensual use of drugs, mentions of rape and domestic violence, mean!rafe, psycho!dark!reader, non-consensual recording (sorry not sorry rafe lol)

Author’s note: I am back just to post this blurb cause I love dark!Rafe but I also want to read something about the reader being the unhinged, pyscho one 🤭 . Also, this is unedited so if you see some wrong grammar or wrong spelling.. no you didn’t.

“Hmm..” a dull, throbbing pain made him tightly closed his eyes. His body feeling heavy and sluggish. He felt like he slept in a wrong position for two days, with how his muscles are aching. He was about to stretch and move his arms when he felt a tug that restricted his movements.

“Wait.. wha—?” The sensation made Rafe open his eyes, his baby blues scanning the room in utter confusion. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the low light, looking up at his wrists tied together above him, and his legs tied to the bed frame. “What the fuck..?” He mumbled in a slurred manner, his baby blues darting around the room before feeling the bed dipped beside him.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Rafe immediately looked up, his breath slightly hitching with how close your face is.

“A-angel?” He whispered his nickname for you, confusion more evident on his face now with his brows scrunched up. “How— why—“ Rafe’s questions were cut off by your giggle, airy and as if the whole situation is amusing, making his jaw tick in irritation.

For him, maybe it’s not as amusing. For you, however, it is definitely the highlight of your life.

“What are you doing? You think this is funny?” He asked, voice low and threatening, as if he is not the one tied down tightly on your bed right now. You just looked at him with a soft smile, a soft hand landing on his forehead to smooth the creases between his eyebrows before affectionately running your hand through his buzzed hair.

“Oh no, Rafey. I just think this suits you..” you words hanged onto the air, making him anticipate what’s next. “After all, isn’t this what you had planned for me? I just switched up who will be the victim.” You answered, ignoring the slight widening of his eyes with your answer.

His heart was thumping loudly inside his chest now, feeling the rope’s roughness that bound both his wrists and ankles. “W-what? I don’t— I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about.” Rafe looked straight into your eyes, trying to convince you. Yet your smile sent a chill down his spine.

“What do you mean? I know your plan silly!” You giggled, biting your bottom lip which made the boy gulp. “I am very much aware of the Kook king’s personal life and the rumours surrounding you, you know. The rape allegations at the parties after slipping some drugs on their drinks. Or maybe asking them to drink a bit too much. I have also heard how much you have punched and kicked your previous girlfriends.. lucky that your daddy knows how to bail you out!”

Your eyes travelled down Rafe’s disheveled state, the buttons of his white shirt undone, revealing a slither of tan skin underneath. His taut muscles evident as he squirms to move. While you were distracted, Rafe tried to free himself, struggling as the rope got tighter and tighter the more he tried to escape.

“Where was I? Oh! And so— I have heard from Topper how it’s now my “time” apparently. Then there you were! In front of my house, asking me to drink with you cause you were feeling lonely. I knew you slipped a drug on my drink,, so I have beat you to it and knocked you out.” You admitted with a shrug, moving away to stand up while still watching Rafe closely.

“You’re fucking crazy. I-I didn’t even— wasn’t planning to do anything!” Rafe tried to reason out, gritting his teeth when the rope wouldn’t budge.

“Really? Cause the rope that I used was from the back of your truck. I even found some little baggies.” You inserted your hand inside your bra, the action making Rafe stare straight to your chest and take in what you are wearing.

You wore white lacy set of lingerie, hugging the swell of your breasts and thighs, accentuating every dips and curves as if you were carves by the gods to look like a literal angel on earth.

Except, you are holding every variety of drugs that Rafe owns with a big smile.

Each bag has some different sized pills and powders, which you were sure were party drugs and coke from his drug dealer best friend, Barry.

“Now come on, Angel. Don’t you know that you shouldn’t touch what’s not yours? You don’t even know shit about drugs or-or how expensive those are!” He groaned, unable to do anything. Rafe is at his limit, his patience running thin as he think of the things he will do once he breaks free from the ropes, promising to himself that he will definitely fuck you to the point that you’ll beg him to stop plowing your abused cunt. Your appearance and his imagination making his thick cock hard despite his anger.

“Hmm.. I know which drugs is which. I think I stalked you enough to know which one is your favourite other than coke.” Moving closer, you brushed your hair away from your face. “And to be honest. I thought you would have more.” You grabbed a bottle of water on the bedside table before straddling Rafe’s chest.

The action made Rafe’s shorts tighter with how painfully hard he is, his point of view accentuating your breasts, seeing your nipples perky from the cold air inside the room. Once again, he struggled with the intention of trying to free himself to grab you and slap the shit out of you while drilling his cock to your wet pussy, he gritted his teeth and whispered menacingly.

“Now now, Angel. We can do this without the rope.. you know? If I have known you were a little freaky.. I would have asked you properly instead of what I was planning to do.” His words made chuckle, raking your manicured nails on his chest, making him let out a low groan.

“But where’s the fun in that?! Besides it would be unfair to just let you do that.. knowing how much you’ve been a bad boy here in Outer banks..” leaning forward, you balanced yourself and gripped his arms, slightly rutting your clothed core on his stomach. The action made Rafe groan, his anger disappearing as he thinks that you are just a closeted little freak that is now removing your disguise to fuck him. Rafe’s hips were bucking slightly, loving the hazy look in your eyes as he lets you to revel on the power you have over him right now.

“This is exciting, but I want to make it wayyy more pleasurable for us two.” Dragging your tongue on his collarbone, you moved away to grab one of the baggies containing some neon pink and green pills making Rafe eye you suspiciouslly. As far as he remember, he did not order some odd looking pills from Barry.

Grinning at him like the devil, you took two from the bag before going back to your position, your left hand tracing the bottom of his lips as you bite your own. Rafe’s lips parted, his pink tongue slightly peeking, urging you to lean down and finally kiss him.

The kiss was hot and messy, and Rafe kissed you like a man starved. His tongue immediately invading your mouth, savouring the slight dominance that he has knowing that he cannot escape your bed to flip you over. Rafe was so into the kiss that he did not feel both of your hands wrap around his neck.

Your hands were getting tighter and tighter, making him pull back with wide eyes that is staring right straight to your in panic.

“A-angel— hey hey..!” He tried to fully scream at you, nails slowly digging into the flesh of his neck. Rafe was slowly running out of air, his vision swimming in the dark while looking at you smiling so gently to him as if you aren’t choking him to death right now. His lips parted in a silent scream, before you let go to forcefully shove the pills down his throat which almost made him puke.

You let go once the pills were stuck down his throat, Rafe immediately heaving and gasping for air, making the pills slide down with his spit. He didn’t waste any time to steady his breathing, immediately screaming at your face.

“ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?! YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH, I WILL FUCKING RIP YOUR HEAD OFF AND YOUR FUCKING PUSSY IF I GET OUT OF HERE! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” His neck was red, veins popping out from him screaming directly on your face. You faked a sniffle, eyes slightly watering before you broke into a laugh.

“Woah calm down, pretty boy!” You managed to squeeze out as you continue to laugh, making Rafe jolt with the want to punch you down and force himself on you. “I just want to make sure you drink the pill candy without a fight.” You stated, offering a water bottle pointed at his lips. His breathing was erratic with anger, nudging the bottle away from his face before it dawned on him.

“Fuck—“ he mumbled. “What the fuck are those pills?!” You just shrugged, shaking your head as you so. “I have enough of your bitchy brat games, you fucking psycho! What the fuck are those pills!” Wiping down the spit that landed on your chest, you sighed giving him a faux pout.

“It’s just something to relax you.. and maybe give you more strength as I use you the whole night?” As if on cue, his cock that went soft with the stunt that you pulled suddenly hardened, blood immediately rushing down south. Rafe’s body slowly started to feel hot, he feels so lightheaded that his eyelids were almost closing on him while he tries not to pant and control his breathing. “Shit shit shit” he mumbled in panic, mind swimming with all the possibilities what the pill might be and what it might do to him.

You cut his thoughts short when you swiftly undressed him, his eyes wide and watery as you blow air on his clothed cock that was immediately weeping before letting it spring free. You thumbed the continuous flow of his pre-cum, making him buck his hips for more. Your touch was cold on his burning skin, a soft whine passing by his lips when you gave his leaking tip one kitten lick.

“Fuck please— what— what did you do to me..?” Rafe whispered softly, slowly losing his mind with the need and desire to feel your mouth, cunt, or your ass on his dick that is now standing proudly against his stomach.

“Nothing really. I told you I’ll make sure to make this more pleasurable for us, didn’t I? Must have been frustrating to be on the receiving end, huh?” Straddling his waist, you move your lacy panties aside to rut it on his cock, his pre-cum making it slide easier on your sopping wet pussy. You continued your actions, ignoring Rafe’s please to let him put his cock in you.

“You know.. I’ve heard how much you wanted me.. how much you think you can ruin me, to manipulate me into your ‘slut’. But I don’t want to be one of those girls that you took advantage of, Rafey. I want to be special, I want something more.” Your body was slowly getting covered with a light sheen of sweat, lips so close besides Rafe’s ear as you lick and tease his ear lobe. Soft whines and gasps escaping your lips before smirking as Rafe tried his best to listen to you despite him slowly losing his mind.

“So I decided to just show you, decided that maybe I’m the one that can break you..” Rafe lets out a deep strangled cry as he cums, body vibrating with the intensity of his ejaculation while he shut his eyes close. “Oh my, you just cummed but you’re still hard, Rafey!” Your statement made Rafe open his eyes weakly, vision slightly blurry with unshed tears, his cock more sensitive that ever.

Your left hand encircled his thick shaft, slowly dragging your palm up and down, making Rafe choked out a sob “‘s too much— please— fuck— ‘s too much” Rafe rambled, making you stop playing with his cock; giving him soft kisses on his cheeks, kissing his tears away. “Oh shush, don’t cry Rafey. I will make you feel good, make you feel so so good.” You whispered against his flushed skin, licking the lone tear that slid down while you console him.

You grabbed the water bottle and popped a pill on your tongue, Rafe watching you with blown out, unfocused eyes. “See? I took one as well!” You stated, slowly getting rid of your lingerie which made Rafe’s cock bob up and down, pre-cum once again leaking out of him despite coming just seconds ago.

“Gonna show you how special I can be, Rafey.” Whispering on his skin while you trail wet kissed down his chest, Rafe sobbed when you lightly bit his nipple, the action making him cum once again. You felt his warm load spatter on your ass, making you giggle.

“ ‘m gonna show you how I can make you feel like a god.” You eyed his drowsy state, drool sloppily pooling on the side of his mouth. Lightly tapping his cheeks, he opened his eyes before you pointed at the red dot on the corner of your room, which he eyed for a moment.

“Don’t forget to smile.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Predatory Flora.

A Grab Bag Commission For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Summary: A lost little adventure meets a particularly sweet plant.

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Non//Con, AFAB!Reader, Tentacles, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Bondage, and Implied Mind-Break.

It tasted like honey.

Thick, viscous, painfully sweet, clinging to your lips and your throat as you struggled to choke it down. You thought it might’ve been nectar – some kind of natural by-product yet to be recorded in any of the logs you’d skimmed through in preparation for your journey. If you had heard about this, you were sure you would’ve remembered it, would’ve made a mental note to keep an eye out for plants with thrashing vines and bright pink petals that latched onto your lower face and forced their dripping pistils down your throat, for plants whose saccharine scent made your thoughts crowded and your body lag. You wouldn’t have taken a wrong step, wouldn’t have found yourself in a pit of squirming vines and blooming flowers. You would’ve avoided this, if you’d known what to look for.

You’d be trying harder to escape, if you had proof that anyone had ever encountered this thing and lived.

Slowly, jerkily, you managed to lift your hand and take the flower by its stem, but as soon as you made contact with its pulsing, dewy flesh, another tendril lashed out and wrapped around your wrist – this one a dark green, sticky to the touch and covered in long, tapered red hairs that seemed to squirm and batter against your skin. Oh god, your skin – you felt like you were burning, simultaneously buzzing with a numbing sort of static and overwhelmed with the aching need for something to press against you and stay there. It was almost a relief when another tendril rose from the creature’s main body, tangling around your unoccupied hand and dragging it downward, when another pair curled around your legs and dragged you off your feet completely. You twisted weakly in its hold, but your body relished the pressure, the stimulation. You could feel something dripping down the inside of your thighs, but where there should’ve been embarrassment, utter humiliation, you could only bring yourself to feel a sense of thrashing, twisting anticipation.

Anticipation that only grew more unbearable as the ground shifted underneath you, a mass of leaves and tangled roots coming to rest underneath your back. Or, no, wait, you were the one moving, the vines curled around your limbs maneuvering you deeper into the pit, closer to the base of this thing’s body, onto a bed of thick emerald leaves and coiled vines. The flower latched onto your face pumped one more mass of sickly sweet agony down your throat before recoiling, falling around your neck and letting its nectar ooze down your tunic, your chest. You mourned its loss, but the misery of separation was short-lived. Those red hairs were swarming you in a moment, forcing their way under your clothes, your armor. Your pack fell away first, then the sword at your waist – the only weapon you’d thought to bring on what should’ve been a routine expedition. Your leather armor was pulled over your head carelessly, and what remained of your clothes weren’t even given that much respect, torn and ripped until little more than tattered shreds remained.

Somehow, seeing the planes of your own exposed skin helped to clear your scattered mind, to jolt just enough sense into your lust-addled brain to remind you that you were in the mouth of a creature you couldn’t name, at the mercy of whatever it’d forced you to swallow. You made a half-hearted effort to kick out, to pull your arms out of its hold, but the creature only strengthened your restraints by way of response, its tendrils winding tighter around your limbs. You grit your teeth, dug your blunt nails into its vines, but for everything you ripped away, two more would emerge from the main body to take its place. Your legs were spread far enough for a tight throbbing to form in your thighs, your arms hitched upward and bound together above your head. Another flower found its way to your face, but you bit at its petals, staving it off with gnashing teeth and harsh thrashing. You held your breath, attempting to clear your thoughts, to put together something close to a plan and—

"Don't fight." Its voice seemed to come from everywhere, from everything. Your eyes darted from vine to vine wildly, but you only found its source when two hands descended from nowhere; long, tapered fingers coming to cup your face and tilt your head back. A poor imitation for something human hovered above you, its skin that same dark green, its eyes that terrible pink. It was smiling - or, it was supposed to be, at least. "It's so much more fun when you give in quickly."

You felt something push into you, a blunt head forcing its way into your dripping cunt. In tandem, a tendril with a flattened tip latched onto your clit, lapping over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves – the sensation not unlike that of a tongue. Instantly, your mind went blank. If your body had been burning before, it was on fire now, something vital and vulnerable inside of you melting as the blunt tendril lazily thrusted into you, only occasionally pausing to curl or coil. You could make out more of that awful nectar leaking out of your cunt, coating the tendril with a thin sheen of its own aphrodisiac. You could feel the creature’s body reverberate underneath you, letting out a resounding purr as it forced its way deeper into you. You could see it grinning above you, golden nectar dripping over its bottom lip.

A matching smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Absent-mindedly, you spread your legs, letting yourself go completely slack. The creature took over, latching onto your chest and wrapping around your waist, pulling you further into its embrace. Pleasure rolled over you in thick waves, suffocating what few useless worries you still had until you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything at all. You bucked your hips towards the tendril inside of you, savoring the slow shudder of arousal that crept down your spine as a reward. You couldn’t get away, but that was fine. You’d be here forever, but you didn’t care.

It wasn’t like you could ever want to leave.

[ivoryghostyy]

「 image, not mine. sourced from pinterest. 」

「 note: previously known as "love bite" and this is the actual revamp of the oneshot. "destined pair" feels too different from the original, so here's something closer. have fun. ^^ 」

「 tw: possessive, mentions of blood, non-consensual biting, non-consensual drinking of blood, slightly suggestive?, implications of stalking, violence — read with caution, i guess. 」

a dark chuckle reverberates through the winding hallways, filling you with a sinking sense of dread.

"come now, you can't hide from me. while i do enjoy this little game of chase, i'm beginning to lose my patience."

you do your best to calm the erratic pace of your heart, but the pressure is getting to you. you're bleeding out, for god's sake. for all you knew, you wouldn't make it out of this alive.

'how comforting,' you thought, as you basked in your own bitter notions. your mind blanks, however, when you finally notice the footsteps resounding nearby.

they're quiet—you barely heard them—but they're close.

dangerously close.

your first mistake was exposing yourself so soon. it was meant to be a quick mission: locate the target and take him down. but he had noticed you too early—almost instantly, as if he knew the whole time.

that should have been enough of a reason for you to back out, as even the slightest risk could lead to your death. you're dealing with vampires, after all.

yet, absurdly, you continued on.

why? somehow, you didn't know either. 'could be the alcohol. or perhaps, there was something bigger at play here. regardless, you kept your pace, staying at a distance and waiting for an opportunity to strike.

which, to be honest, took a lot longer than you expected. if only you could simply kill the witnesses, too.

he was a social butterfly, easily getting along with every person he conversed with. but then again, why wouldn't he? he manages a large organization, after all. with a handsome grin, he knocked everyone's guards down, leaving them completely vulnerable to his charms.

he's beautiful, you'll give him that.

after a while, he excuses himself, and you tail after him. as an experienced hunter, you've learned to mask your presence; to hide within the shadows cast beneath the soft moonlight.

it was going smoothly.

until it wasn't.

he stopped, turning his head to meet your alarmed gaze. it was brief, but it was enough for you to know: he knew you were there.

ruh-roh raggy.

you knew that playing ignorant wouldn't work on him. you've read his files—despite them highly lacking in details. he does a good job of keeping his information confidential—it's practically part of his job to find out if someone's lying or not!

seduction? he may be hot, but really, all you want to do right now is go to sleep. you are not getting laid tonight. really?

'alright, plan C it is.'

you booked it.

cursing under your breath, you ignore the painful ache of your poor feet. you'll be fine, probably. this isn't your first rodeo. for the record, you've once managed to escape with a broken leg, a stab wound, and a splitting headache. this should be easy! don't be so complacent, dear. plot armour can only do so much.

his looming figure casts a shadow over your guarded frame.

"there you are."

you're stuck. trapped between two unwavering arms as he grinned cheekily at you. his eyes are dilated, and he looks almost.. intoxicated.

"i warned you, didn't i? you can't hide from me, fawn."

fawn.

what a stupid nickname. you sneer.

"i'm impressed, really. not many can land a hit on me."

he refers to the healing cut on his chest, the wound beginning to weave itself back together.

righr now, you couldn't do much. with a bleeding gash running from along your hips, you're basically screwed. your hand clutches the wound, blood trickling through your palm as you struggle to apply enough force to your trembling hand.

god, you feel so weak. his eyes pull you into a trance-like state, and you're barely able to hold yourself together. he leans down with an angelic curl to his lips, reaching up to stroke your cheek.

"how cute. 'still resisting, dear? my, you're quite stubborn."

you grumble under your breath. unfortunately for you, he hears it. glowing optics bore right into you, and for a moment, you thought he'd kill you right then and there.

to your surprise, however, he simply chuckles. you release a breath of relief, shivering from the hot puff of air that brushes your neck.

then you wheeze; a pained gasp fumbling out of your lips as he slams you against the wall. a rough hand curls around your throat, sharp nails poking your skin—that should be enough of a warning to keep you still.

"now," your eyes trail to the side as you shift;

but he moves in, lips only an inch away from yours.

"ah-ah, what are you looking at, fawn? i don't want your attention straying. your gaze is meant only for me."

"shut up, you i-insufferable-" you cough, lightly gasping when the grip on your throat tightens.

"-oversized mosquito!"

…

goddamn it-

"pfft-"

his eyes crinkle as he laughs, and you're completely stunned; mesmerized by how genuine he sounds. seriously, has this guy considered making asmr videos?

"oversized mosquito? is that supposed to be an insult?"

his grip loosens for a moment, but he regains his composure before you can make a move. fuck vampires and their inhuman speed.

"i quite like you. you've always been an entertaining little fawn." he pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his handsome features before he smirks. "i've decided, i'll be keeping you." it shouldn't be a problem. you've always been his.

he smiles, but his eyes are dimly lit, glinting ominously.

"what!? no-" he interrupts you, a sharpened nail digging into the skin of your neck, drawing a few drops of blood.

"i don't think you heard me. see,"

he guides you impossibly closer. his lips now only mere centimetres away from yours. his thumb trails along your jaw as the other wanders up the skin of your thigh, landing on the small of your back. his touch leaves a trail of heat, a shiver crawling up your spine.

"i wasn't asking, fawn."

and in the next moment, you're pinned against the wall. he leans his weight against you, pulling your hands behind your back. his fangs graze your neck, and you can feel your heart beating frantically.

"i'll have you, even if i have to break you in the process."

the dread settles in, and for the first time in years, you're filled with pure, unadulterated fear.

"shh, don't worry, dear. the pain is only for a moment."

you're scared. he's going to bite you. he's going to bite you. as a last-ditch attempt, you move to stun him.

"stay still."

he's quicker.

fangs sink into your skin, and you whimper at the pain. the feeling of your blood being drained, of the unbearable sting of his fangs in your neck, you almost cry from the agonizing discomfort.

but this isn't what you fear the most. no, this doesn't even come close. you're not scared of pain; half your life was spent with pain playing the role of a clingy lover.

what you fear.. is what comes next.

pleasure.

you can't succumb to it. you can't! you can still take him down with what little strength you have left. you need to resist-

his fanks sink deeper, lulling the ache away and replacing it with a heated embrace. your tense muscles relax, and you stifle a guttural moan at the growing heat in your abdomen.

your instincts fight against the sedative effects, still trying to pull you out from drowning in pleasure.

wake up, goddamn it! he'll kill you!

breathing heavily, you once again struggle against his hold, forcing yourself to shove him off.

his jaw clenches, and you flinch. his hand pulls you closer, pressing against your stomach, causing a wave of heat to course through your trembling frame.

you feel so sensitive; almost like you're drunk on aphrodisiac.

as all fight leaves you, an open moan flittering through your lips. your eyebrows furrow. you don't feel the need to resist anymore.

why would you? you're safe with him. he is all you need.

your limbs grow heavy. why're you so tired? you groan, leaning your head back as he moves away. your wobbly legs can barely hold you up, so he takes the liberty of pulling you into his arms.

he grins in content, licking off the stray blood on your neck. you shiver, clutching the fabric of his clothes. 'you're so adorable. all vulnerable and dazed in his hold,' he muses to himself. you're disoriented, unable to think clearly as you nuzzle into his chest.

"look at you, darling. safe and warm, right here with me."

he'll make sure to take care of you. he's not just watching from afar anymore; now, you're finally in his arms.

'finally, mine.'

[nopainnowhump]

Cracks in the glass Pt.1

TW: Torture, medical experimentation, forced restraint, non-consensual procedures, shock collar use, physical and emotional trauma, pain, isolation, and recovery themes.

My head fucking hurts. That’s an understatement. The throb rocks my body to my core, disorienting me as I wake up on my cot. I brace my hands to my face and drag my fingers through my hair. I know I’ve woken up too early. I don’t hear the med cart in the hallway, or the screams from the other cells. I attempt to stand and get water from the sink, but any movement brings me to the floor. A flashback to the previous day rolls through my memory.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Agh!” I scream and convulse as they strap me to the chair in the middle of the room. A strap is placed on my head and limbs. “Go ahead and put a muzzle on her. Hey, listen to me, if you don’t stop moving, you’re gonna be put in isolation. Get it, brat?” I thrash harder in the chair. I look around the testing room. Multiple people in lab coats surround me, some taking notes, others prepping the experiment for today. I know it’s gonna hurt. It always does. Especially since I’m in the surgery rooms. A nurse approaches with a syringe full of clear liquid. She lines it up with the IV in my arm and injects it. I light on fire. A scream erupts through me. A thick cloth is placed in my mouth. The straps around my head and extremities are unrelenting as I use the last of my strength to try and break free. “Okay, everyone, let’s get started.” The heat drains from my body as everyone takes their places.

“Are we recording? Good. Saw?” I can’t fight. I can’t move. Tears stream down my face as I hear the whirring of the saw. The next sensation is blinding pain. The saw makes contact with my head, and the pain is pulse though my whole body. I try to move, but a nurse forces my head to stop moving. Darkness consumes my vision, and I black out. No. No. No, it’s not over. It’s never over.

I jerk awake still in the chair. “Hey, stay awake,” the doctor says. I start to doze off again. It’s too much. A shock rolls through my body, and I twitch from the electricity. “I said stay awake.” I don’t know what they did, but my skull throbs with an uneven weight. Sweat drips down my face, leaving an uncomfortable trail on my forehead. The doctor speaks up again. “Listen,” he says sharply. My eyelids start to flutter shut. A muffled scream breaks through the muzzle as another jolt goes through me. “I’m not gonna tell you again, stay the fuck awake. Here’s the deal, I’m gonna put objects on the table, and when I tell you, you’re gonna use your powers and hold until I say release. Understand? Let’s begin.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I curl back up on the thin mattress. I wait for what feels like hours before I start to hear the squeak of the med cart. I prepare for my turn. I’ve had the same nurse for the past few years, a tall lanky man that goes by the name Kyle. If evil was incarnated in a human, it would be fucking Kyle. I hear the access to my cell beep, and in walks his ugly mug. Like usual, he holds the remote to the shock collar and approaches with confidence. “How we feeling this morning, sunshine?” he says in a fake cheery voice. I attempt to grab at him, but in an instant, he hits the button to the collar, lighting me up. I scream and fall back. “Nuh uh, I don’t think so.” A sly smirk plays on his face. “Boss says I’m taking you for neuro lab part 2. Exciting, isn’t it? I wish I could have been there yesterday, but unfortunately, another one of you freaks started up trouble again, and I had to miss.” Dread pools in me. My breathing increases as a thin layer of sweat starts to form on me. “What’s wrong? Not gonna scream at me? Not that I’m complaining, but it gets old very quickly. So how about this: you take these.” He goes to the cart and grabs a small cup of pills. “And I don’t make this day worse than it has to be.” I’ve stopped listening. No. It’s too soon. I can’t. I’m dragged into my brain. I receive another zap. “What’s it gonna be?” He shakes the cup in front of my face. His face, his sly stupid expression, sparks a fire in me. Through the pain in my head and the deep shit I know I’m gonna be in after this, I look into his eyes, take a deep breath before lunging on top of him. He’s startled by my quick motion, sending the remote sliding on the floor as I knock him to his back. “Ragh,” I say in a grunt. Adrenaline takes over as my fists make contact with his nose. A splatter of blood streaks the floor as I continue the assault on his face. His right eye starts to swell as I make quick and deep contact, my thumb digging into the socket. I feel like I’m running on a motor. I’m so entranced by my actions that I don’t hear the alarm, see the lights flash, or even notice the strong arms lifting me. It doesn’t matter. I claw at the hands around me.

The trip to isolation is short before I am thrown onto a cold concrete floor. A heavy door slams behind me. Pitch darkness consumes the room, leaving only a flicker of red light from the security camera. I run up to the door and scream. It’s no use. The throb in my head doesn’t go away as the hours drag on in the small room. The cold from the floor cools my skin as I fall asleep.

The door creaking open awakens me. My headache still hasn’t subsided, and the harsh light forces my eyes to squint. I can’t make out who has entered.

“Hey,” the person whispers. “It’s okay, I’m just gonna check something real quick.”

I don’t see the syringe, but I feel something connect to the IV. Once I feel the pressure, I try to sit up, but it’s too late. It’s already been pushed through, making my body feel heavy and disoriented. I groan in frustration as the stranger gently pushes me back to lay down.

“Shhhh, it’s gonna be okay. It’s almost over.”

Just as quickly as he came, the stranger leaves, and my vision is consumed by sleep.

Hi everyone! This is my first-ever story, so I’m new to writing, but I’ve been reading whump for a long time. I’m planning to write part two soon, where we’ll meet our caretaker. Stay tuned! 💕

Pt. 2

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I exposed my dad's secret to his bandmates? HUGE TW for real life incest, alcoholism and (not related to the previous topics) emotional and physical abuse, to a partner and to a child. I will be as brief and non-descriptive as possible, as these are heavy topics.

I (early 20s, M) have an extremely difficult relationship with my dad (late 40s, M). The last time we spoke was on my 18th birthday and it ended in a discussion due to some genuinely stupid shit he was doing behind my back and thought I didn't knew. He's very abusive, I won't specify what but I'm dealing with PTSD, alongside other diagnostics, due to everything he did to me while I was a child and even a teenager. He also abused my mom the years they were married. While we cut contact years ago, he still needs to pay child (?) support, until I'm 25 due to me being disabled. He doesn't pays it willingly, btw, his own workplace withdrawals that money from him and deposits it in my mom's account.

My dad is in a band, and I know because he told me when he joined (we still talked on that time) and I sometimes check his band's Facebook page to see what they're up to. I also still have his bandmates' personal profiles added on there, even when I don't really use it anymore. The band is not really that well known, but they did recorded and sold some discs (one in which my dad wrote a dedicatory to me 😬) + participated in various events.

The thing is that, my dad also severely struggled with alcoholism during his teenage years (drinking age here is 18, but afaik he started earlier) and up until the first years he had me. And he also grew up in a really dysfunctional family (no one is free from being a piece of shit there). Here goes the thing, he confessed to my mom he had a few inappropriate encounters with his younger sister while he was drunk (before dating my mom), and my mom told it to me one day. They were both consenting (according to him) when it happened, but. Well. For the record, his sister absolutely despises my mother and I, and made it obvious when I still visited that side of the family. She gets awfully jealous over him, and hates that I'm his son (although being trans, she thinks I'm his daughter, which makes her jealously even weirder to think about). I'm unaware whether his brother, other two sisters, and mother know this, his father is dead.

Here's where I could probably be TA: As soon as he isn't forced by law to financially support me (which I know he will try to do it the very moment I turn 25), I have been considering using a burner account to just tell this family secret to his bandmates. Just drop it, and see what happens. I have mixed feelings over him, but I pretty much want him to suffer, and possibly destroying his dream of having a band sounds pleasing. However, I realize this shit is heavy, and even with how I will forever be scarred by his abuse, maybe this is going too far. So, WIBTA?

TL;DR: My dad is in a band, he was abusive to me for years. He has a big secret, which is the fact he had consensual but inappropriate contact with his younger sister a few times while drunk. I still depend on him economically, but as soon as I don't, dropping this to his bandmates could be a revenge. However, this could be going too far even with how shitty he is. WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[konigsblog]

stepmom!reader with perv!loser!stepson!könig who spies on her while bathing, changing, fucking his dad, stealing her dirty knickers to jerk off with later….

stepson!könig is jealous of his own father. :(

tw/cw; stepmom!reader x perv!loser!stepson!könig, non-consensual recording & touching, non-consensual voyeurism, jealousy, guilt tripping. MDNI 18+

it's true, he can't handle his jealousy when he watches his sweet stepmother get fucked by his own father. his eyes are fixated on you, one hand gripping his lengthy cock and the other holding a camera to record the entire thing.

he prays and hopes you don't see the flashing red light, too distracted by your husband's lazy thrusts. könig grits his teeth at the disgusting sight, he could do way better than his father, he's bigger and faster, knows exactly how to please a woman. könig has just come home from deployment, coming home to the sight of his ‘girlfriend’ getting fucked.

he truly believes you're just leading him on and that you're his girlfriend, that perhaps you just like an open relationship. könig doesn't mind, i guess—he'll do anything for you—but a part of him burns with jealousy at the sickening sight. he'll sob drunkenly in his bedroom, jerking off to the porn at a high volume, hoping you'll come in to ease his anger and comfort him during these rough times.

all könig wants is for his stepmother to apologise and jerk him off. fuck, maybe even suck him off, or let him feel your cunt with his tip, to ease a couple inches inside your tight wetness. könig's cock aches and twitches with each stroke and drag, sobbing that you're being horrible, cheating on him with his own father.

how can you deny könig of his needs? especially at the sight of his frustrated, drunken tears. you suck him off ‘til he comes all in your mouth, panting your tongue with his white creaminess, his boner throbbing and aching, twitching and oozing against your warm tongue.

only when you're leaving do you catch a glimpse of his computer monitor, displaying a video of you and könig's father having sex.

[confusedcunny]

Detrans December audio challenge Day 7: (do) tw sex with supernatural creature (tentacle monster); medical play; impregnation; non-consensual scène; As you can hear in the file there won't be a new file for about a week.

[depravitycentral]

Just a few small nsfw thoughts about the yandere haikyuu cast

Tw: stalking, kidnapping, non-consensual photography/involvement in masurbation, foot stuff in Noya's, spitting, overall just real unfortunate habits they have

Thinking about Daichi Sawamura who is the natural option for you to run to when mysterious packages start showing up at your door. It’s all sorts of intimate items – pretty lingerie that somehow fits you perfectly, all in your favorite colors (and his, too, of course). Then it shifts towards just single items, no longer the pretty babydoll sets – silk thongs with an initial stitched in, collars with your name engraved in the metal tag, vibrators that slowly get longer and thicker. It’s only when one comes that’s much too realistic, leaning slightly to the left and with veins lining the top that you finally confide in Daichi. It all comes tumbling out, and it’s only when you show him the handwritten note with the most recent dildo – reading it’s modeled after my own, let me know how it fits - that Daichi softly sighs, throwing you a look and telling you that you know there’s nothing we can do about it. Creeps like that always get away with it, unfortunately. Just ignore the way his uniform pants are straining at seeing you all teary-eyed and dependent on him – cute. Maybe you’d like another gag – he’s noticed you haven’t used the last one yet.

Thinking about Koushi Sugawara who feels bad about installing the bug on your phone, but not bad enough to disconnect it. It’s not visual, is what he tells himself – it’s not creepy if it’s not looking at you, after all. It only picks up on sound when he activates it – which has let him into a whole other side of you. You bring your phone with you everywhere, he’s realized, and he’s always keeping his headphones on at any given time, playing the live feed and letting his cheeks turn red and his pants grow tight at the sound of you. Your voice, your laugh, your humming, your moans and whimpers and hell, even the sound of you peeing is enough to make him feel light-headed, connected to you in a way that gets his heart racing and his cock swelling. Maybe one day he’ll install the visual one, too, but for now the sound is enough – the audio recordings he takes of you is more than enough fodder should he ever need it.

Thinking about Asahi Azumane, whose apartment is basically your second home. You come over and spend the night often – often enough to have your own toothbrush permanently living at his place, set off to the side and out of the mainly used area of the bathroom counter. It’s a common brand, one that Asahi can find at the corner market – which he does, keeping a constant supply around so that he can replace it each time you use it. He keeps them all stacked nicely in a Ziploc bag, dating each in permanent marker so he can recount and remember all the times you’ve slept under the same roof as him, only a room away. And of course, this makes it much easier to slip the it between his lips and against his tongue, teeth grinding down against the bristles and his eyes fluttering closed because it just feels so very intimate. It’s embarrassing and he keeps everything well hidden from you, but the way he stares as he brushes his teeth beside you is a bit of a give-away that there’s something going on.

Thinking about Ryunosuke Tanaka who keeps a running list of the insults you throw at him. They’re never truly mean, always just jokes or digs at some niche thing about him and his Loverboy attitude, but Ryunosuke notices. He’s transcribing them into his Notes app on his phone, and when he gets home each evening he repeats the insult to himself out loud, saying the word over and over in a mimic of your own voice, letting his hands run down the length of his body as he closes his eyes and melts into memories of your expression, your tone, the way you’d been looking at him. He’s got something of a degradation kink, and he’s training himself to become aroused at the mere mention of a derogatory nickname – it's for the future, he’ll tell himself, so that when he’s got you straddling him, tying him up and keeping him pinned underneath you, he can preform exactly how you want him to. He’ll be good for you – just call him a freak again, please.

Thinking about Yuu Nishinoya always making jokes about feet because he knows it makes you squirm in discomfort, but soon it stops being a joke. He’s always tickling your feet, making exaggerating sucking sounds when you slip your shoes off, even snatching your socks and running around with them, the adrenaline of you chasing him and yelling his name and looking at him him him making him giddy. But then he’s managing to keep the sock one day, curiously rubbing a finger over it as he palms himself, running his leaking, bright red tip against the material and cursing. He’ll wind up using it as a sort of cocksleeve, fucking into it and leaving it so riddled with cum that it’s hard, and suddenly the next time he jokes about you letting him give just one suck, c’mon is less teasing and much more serious.

Thinking of Shoyou Hinata who doesn’t understand why you get so angry when he suggests switching underwear. He thinks it’s sweet – a sign of love and comfort with each other, really. He’ll step into the cute, flimsy panties he buys for you, pulling them up and face twisting up slightly as he adjusts himself, trying his best to get the thong to hold as much of his cock and balls as he can. He feels naughty, wearing them under his shorts when he runs to the store to pick up groceries, and with each step he can feel the lacey material – the very material he’d forced you to strip out of that morning, the material still warm. And of course, you were forced into his boxers – the same ones he'd slept in, smelling musky and feeling wet with something you don’t want to name.

Thinking about Tobio Kageyama who has a full body reaction when he hears you say his name. It’s not subtle, either – he’s going stiff as a board, eyes blowing wide and pupils dilating, visible goosebumps erupting all over his skin. His breathing gets a bit heavier, and every muscle in his body is flexed, clenched so tightly that he can hardly move. He’ll stare at you, lips focused entirely on your lips, murmurs leaving his own that sound vaguely like your name, vaguely like fuck. You’ll have to pull him out of the moment yourself, with a touch to his shoulder or waving your hand in front of his face, and it’s only then that he’ll clear his throat, shifting in his pants and realizing much too late that he’s visibly hard, a bit of sweat visibly staining his exercise shirt under the armpits. He’ll make some lame excuse and run away, but as he fists his cock and replays the moment over in his head, he’ll be whining your name and your name only.

Thinking about Kei Tsukishima who feels so, so very stupid but can’t help but bite his lip as he scrolls through Spotify. There’s a separate, private folder of playlists he’s curated, each lasting easily two hours, all with different, single word titles. Doggy, cowgirl, lotus, 69. There’s ten or so, and they get updated at least once a day. It’s music that he can almost too easily imagine touching you to – slowed, passionate, your favorite songs, almost all of them coming from recommendations you yourself gave him. He just can’t help the mental imagery that fills him the moment he hears the chords and the singer’s voice – immediately you’re perched in his lap, tits pressed against his own chest and grinding on him so slowly that he’s near tears, desperation filling him and suddenly his finger’s tapping before he knows it, the little ‘saved to edging’ notification popping up at the bottom of his screen. It’s mortifying, really, but so is the silence only interrupted by the bassy thump thump that would otherwise fill up his bedroom every night.

Thinking about Tadashi Yamaguchi who splurges for his birthday and buys himself a customized life-sized body pillow with you printed on it. He’d been bright red the whole time he’d been ordering, the prized photo of you – scantily clad in your cute, revealing pajamas with your breasts just barely contained by the top – uploaded to the cute little Etsy shop. The package had arrived not soon enough, and he’s both flushed and breathing erratically the moment he rips open the packaging, wide eyes nearly tearing up at the sight of you – well, almost you. He’d paid extra to have the little audio insert sent alongside it, and as he records an audio he’d saved of you teasingly telling him goodnight ‘Dashi, love you, he’s shivering in excitement. It’s a shame that he stains the fabric with cum the first night, but a quick wash leaves it good as new – leaves you good as new.

Thinking about Tooru Oikawa and the pretty dildo he’s got buried away in his closet. It’s smooth, a pale pink color that reminds him of Sakura blossoms – that reminds him of you. He doesn’t use it often; only when he’s been on long, long stints away from home, tournaments and games making his muscles sore, his eyes sag, his heart ache in his chest. But as he sprits your perfume on it and whines your name as he sits down on it, his eyes roll to the back of his head and he remembers how he snatched this from your own closet after having watched you fuck yourself on it through your bedroom window.  

Thinking about Hajime Iwaizumi who absolutely loves the big, pretty mirror you have in your bedroom. It’s the first thing he notices when he walks in for the first time, and it’s also the first thing he looks up when he gets home that night. And when he’s got you spread out on his cock a few months later, the locks on the doors numerous with passcodes he’ll never tell you, he’s sure you’ll be a bit relieved to see something familiar on your new bedroom’s walls. And he’ll tell you as much, gruff voice in your ear as he bounces you in his lap like some kind of toy, telling you to look at the mirror, baby, lookin’ so pretty… And when you cry he’ll wince, but the way his cock throbs inside you is telling.

Thinking about Kotarou Bokuto who calls you when he’s touching himself, narrating to you exactly what he’s doing. Of course, it’s not from his own phone – he likes to think it’s more exciting if it’s an unknown number. Maybe he’s seen too many TikTok thirsts about men in masks and Scream, but he thinks you’ll like the mystery. So when you stop picking up, he’ll just leave voicemails – always groaning and moaning your name, putting the microphone on the phone right up next to his fist, the wet schlock schlock sounds loud and clear. It’s risky and dirty, and when you bring it up the next time he sees you, complaining and confiding in him that some fucking creep is leaving horrible messages for you, he’ll only play along, convinced you’re hiding your true feelings to avoid looking like a pervert. But that’s okay, he likes that you’re a pervert! So pick up next time, yeah?

Thinking about Keiji Akaashi who, when the late hours and pages upon pages of editing the same manga get to him, will switch over to edit the more lewd, more explicit series he’d recently been assigned. Yeah, maybe it’s illegal to be photocopying the pages when there’s particular scenes that appeal to him, and maybe there’s something ever so slightly creepy about printing your photos and cutting out your face, pasting them onto the hentai’s protagonist and doing the same with his own photos, but it’s not a big deal. At least, it’s not a big deal until you find the volumes upon volumes of different almost collaged panels with your photos, all strung together in Keiji’s own personal fantasies of exactly what he wants to do to you, fit with his own handwriting covering the neatly White-outted text bubbles.

Thinking about Tetsurou Kuroo who purposefully gets a desk at work that can be raised to standing height. It’s not often, but when his mind is wandering and he can’t sit still while thoughts of you become unbearable, he’ll bring the desk up slightly. Standing up, he’ll align the wood right below his groin, shuffling forward and gently resting his clothed erection against the surface, sighing and rolling his head back as he lightly thrusts forwards and back. The fantasy of having you bent over the desk is too strong to ignore, and when you – his oh so sexy little assistant – come knocking at his door, he’s thanking anything that’s listening that you can’t see the way wet spreads across the front of his slacks.

Thinking about Kenma Kozume who only plays Sims because he has characters for the two of you. There’s no other avatars, solely and only the two of you. He’s curated your character to have your hair, your eyes, your body proportions, even buying special packages and programming his own mods to make it happen. The house you’re both living in is, he’ll admit, a bit excessive – there’s beds in every room, and the very first thing he’ll do each time he opens the game is immediately press the WooHoo button, zooming in on the monitor to get as close to your pixelated forms as possible. He’ll gulp and palm himself, eyes unblinking and repeating the command until he’s panting and gasping and staring at the sticky mess he’s left behind.

Thinking about Lev Haiba who’s not good at the up-skirt photos he tries to take. He’s not subtle, the camera flash going off and making you stiffen up. It’s easy to brush off with him though, his little laugh and scratching the back of his neck, telling you that he’s just supposed to be taking ‘candid photos of myself, something my new agency’s been wanting! Hey, look at that bird over there, so cute right?’ The flash as you turn around is less noticeable, but the way he audibly groans at the sight of your pretty panties certainly isn’t.

Thinking of Wakatoshi Ushijima who can’t quite understand why you’re uncomfortable when he stands so close to you. He’s always creeping up behind you, unnaturally quiet for someone so large, and suddenly you’ll feel this looming, overwhelming presence behind you, his breath hitting the crown of your head and making your hair tickle your neck and throat. He’s standing nearly flush with you, his cock mere centimeters from your ass, the smell of his cologne invading every one of your senses. He’ll only stare, stonefaced when you yelp and whirl around, only swallowing when you lightly swat his chest, irritation rippling through your tone when you tell him don’t sneak up on me like that! He doesn’t mean to scare you, really, but there’s something about being so close to you that makes his heart race, and he’s heard from all his teammates in the locker rooms about how women ‘love it from behind’, and he can only assume this is what they mean. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’s convinced that with enough time, you’ll grow to enjoy him standing behind you like a shadow, breathing down your neck and audibly inhaling at the juncture of your neck – television tells him as much, so why do you always shy away when he tells you that you smell heavenly?

Thinking of Eita Semi who, despite his best efforts, can’t find it in himself to reject a band admirer when she approaches him after a show. It’s not you and he’s not initially interested in her at all, but as she stays persistent and his numerous texts to you remain unanswered, Eita finds himself noticing that you have similar lips, similar hair, similar hips. It’s not actually cheating if he pretends it’s you, right? It feels sacrilegious to touch another woman, sure, but he’s actively moaning out your name, telling her to shut up when she says something he doesn’t think you would. And it starts a troubling pattern – you won’t sleep with him and he doesn’t want to pressure you, but the sexual frustration of desperately wanting to touch you and being unable to makes him crazy, willing to do anything to get even a phantom taste of you. He’ll apologize profusely if you ever find out, getting to his knees and begging you to forgive him, claiming he did it for you, but it’s a temporary solution for now. Just until you give him a taste of what he’s been dreaming of for months.

Thinking of Satori Tendou who picked up photography as a hobby once his feelings for you formed. He’s still a bit unsure about photographing you without your consent, but then you go and do something that makes his throat dry up, his fingers unable to stay still because you’re just so damn cute and he can’t help himself. He keeps all the photos in a special box, placed neatly and gently in the corner of his closet. They’re all labeled on the back with the date, time, and location, even a few jots of what he was thinking at the time of the photo capture. They’re by and large mostly innocent, but there’s a few that he’d been rash with, snapping the photo and feeling guilt away at him. Writing down the fantasies he’d had with each time he uses the photo to masturbate had been embarrassing at first, but each time he rifles through the photos – which are perfectly pristine, not a drop of cum or even spit anywhere to be seen – he’s poring through his notes, biting his lip and curling his toes as he remembers particularly vivid fantasies, all driven forward by your smiling face or your unaware figure. And while he’ll never offer to show them to you, should you ask he’d reluctantly agree, watching with baited breath to see which ones you like – which fantasies you want to try out.

Thinking of Tsutomu Goshiki who still, even as a young adult, finds himself getting flustered when he watches porn. He’s consuming as many videos as he can find, but he often finds himself clicking off of the video almost as soon as the actual sex starts – he’s interested in the lead up, rather than the act itself. He’s diligently studying the scripts, the scenarios placed forward, the way the women seem to go crazy for a few common, simple lines. He’s noting everything down and practicing the lines, looking at himself in the mirror and adding in your name just to get used to saying it without blushing. He’s convinced that because the women in porn would like these lines, so would you – of course, you would not enjoy being told that he’s the delivery pizza guy and that you’ll need to pay with your body, but Tsutomu doesn’t quite understand that. Surely it’s real – it’s porn, and he’s sure that he’ll be able to fuck you just the way he sees on his screen. He’ll make you scream just like all the women do – he promises.

Thinking of Shinsuke Kita who will let you bathe on your own, but never alone. He’s pulling up a stool beside the bathtub before you can protest, those eyes unblinking as he gets nice and settled in. He’s smiling gently at you, asking you if the water is the right temperature, if you’d like to a use a bathbomb, if you want any help shampooing or scrubbing your body. It’s unnerving if only because the nonchalance is infuriating, but his hands stay perfectly still on his lap, palms flat against the material of his trousers. He’s visibly growing hard as you quickly wash your body, still staring, but he makes no move to act on it. It’s only once he’s watched you settle into bed, promising he’ll be up soon, that he makes his move. The water’s cold by now, but he still sinks into the porcelain with a stifled grown, letting the bath water slip past his lips and cover his face, enjoying every bit of residue of you.

Thinking of Atsumu Miya who’s notorious for PDA with you long before you’ve accepted your fate. He’s always inviting you to his games, getting you special seating so that you’re as close to the court as possible, and after each win he’s pulling you into a searing, bruising, loud kiss. It’s dramatic and it’s entirely too much, but the cameras flash and the headlines spur with details of his supposed relationship with you. It’s all for publicity, he’ll tell you, apologizing but telling you that y’understand, right? It’s for his career, he promises, to make himself look better for the media, but the way he’ll slowly pull away and whimper your name so that only you can hear isn’t quite as publicity-driven as he claims. At least, when he groans and lets his eyes flutter closed afterwards, it sure doesn’t feel that way.

Thinking of Osamu Miya who, of course, has a rather nasty habit of infusing his cooking for you with something salty, bitter, and off-white, but he’s got yet another secret hidden up his sleeve. It takes him a while to work up to coming in your food, desperation driving him mad with the urge to somehow stake a claim on you, but letting his lips pucker and spitting into the frying, sizzling meal he’s whipping up for you? Well, that’s much less sinister, isn’t it? It’s less creepy, he thinks, and it’s easier – he can spit once, twice, five times in a single dish, watching with hawk eyes when you groan and praise his cooking after the first bite. It’s a secret, and the only tell he has is that he’ll bite his lips, Adam’s apple harshly bobbing, his fist clenching and his pants getting tight because oh, you think it tastes good?