Bokuto Being Really Sensitive During Blowjobs And He Jerks Up Into Your Mouth Making You GAG And He Feels

Menhera isn’t “scars make me cute.”

Menhera isn’t “wounds are aesthetic.”

It’s more “I can be cute, even if I have scars.”

It’s more “I can cute, even if I’m emotionally damaged.”

Please stop romanticizing self harm and mental illness! That isn’t what menhera is about and a lot of people still get it confused. Menhera is about internal struggle.

If you think a post on my blog might be leaning towards romanticizing harm or illness please inform me and I’ll take it down

hi !! i loved your post about suna etc etc and their s/o likes getting teased and pretends to be offended ... can you do the same for kuroo, oikawa, and bokuto please ?? :) thank you !!

spent a good minute thinking about the repercussions for jokingly ignoring kuroo 😗

oh also, I don’t know if you wanted the teasing to still be about their height like the last prompt, so I decided to switch it up (bc idk how to tease short people) apologies if that’s not what you wanted though :(

being ignored by their s/o

feat. Kuroo, Oikawa, Bokuto

Kuroo

Kuroo has an enormous amount of pride catered towards how smart he is- this is a FACT

honestly, you’re grateful for him because he’s always there if you need help with a subject

plus that means you two have plenty of study dates!! a win-win

anyways it’s towards the end of your first class, and the teacher was passing back a test. after grabbing yours, you head over to where Kuroo and Yaku sat

“Tetsurou~!! Are you free this weekend??” you give him puppy-dog eyes, hoping he says yes

he jokingly rolls his eyes at you and teases, “hmm? oh did you fail your test? do you need tutoring? you know babe, you’d do really well if you spent more time listening in class than you do sleeping”

you pause at his words- no that’s not why you’re there. to be fair, in the last week, you have pestered him to help you with this particularly tricky math lesson. and the teacher did just hand back tests, so it makes sense why he asked that

you weren’t upset at his assumption, but you decided it would be quite funny if you pretended you were

your smile soon turned into a small pout and you furrowed your brows, “... never mind”

before Kuroo could tell you he was just joking, you’re already heading back to your seat for your next class

throughout the day you pretend like he doesn’t exist. when you spot him walking towards you, you quickly try to make yourself look busy by talking to a teacher or another student

and props to you for being a really great actor, because after many attempts, Kuroo picks up on how you’re actively ignoring him

so during lunch, he sends Kenma over to investigate

he heads to your classroom, which is where you’ve chosen to eat in order to ignore your boyfriend. he was surprised to see you scrolling on your phone and laughing, since he expected you to be moping around

you look up and smile at the setter, and you hold out your lunch

“Kenma!! oh hey do you want to try some of my lunch? I cooked it myself!!”

but Kenma cuts straight to the point, “you look rather happy for someone who’s supposed to be upset with their boyfriend... are you actually mad at Kuroo?”

your eyes dart to the door and you mouth to him, “is he in the hall?”

Kenma shakes his head, but you’re too skeptical so you go up to check yourself. the coast is clear

“don’t be dumb Kenma, I’m not actually upset at him. but he did tease me today and that was kind of rude of him. so let’s just say I’m teaching him a lesson!!” you try to rationalize your actions

Kenma shakes his head, “whatever- as long as it’s nothing serious” and he walks out of the room. he’s sensible enough to know not to say a word, so you continue to enjoy your lunch

when Kenma reports back to Kuroo, he thinks about what to say so that he wouldn’t be lying to his best friend, but also not betray your trust

“she said something about being dumb and lessons- I don’t know”

Kuroo comes to the conclusion that his comments earlier, in combination with your test score, made you lose confidence in yourself and doubt your intelligence.

failing a test is always a shitty feeling, but Kuroo hates thinking that his words just made you feel even worse

he knew he had to make amends as soon as possible, so he gave his remains lunch to Yaku and left to go find you

while walking to class, Kuroo is fortunate enough to run into you in front of the teachers lounge

before you could scurry away, Kuroo catches your arm and pulls you back towards him

trying your best not to laugh, you turn back and look at him with blank eyes

“did you need something, Kuroo?”

he frowns when he hears you use his last name, and the first thing he does is pull you in for a hug

“I’m sorry about the comment I made about your grades this morning. it was a dumb joke, and I don’t want you to ever think you’re not smart- because you are smart. doesn’t matter how you did on that test, okay?”

you pull away from his hug a bit to look at his face, he looks so apologetic that you almost feel bad for tricking him

“Tets-” you’re interrupted by the teachers lounge door opening

Out exits your math teacher and upon sight, the two of you immediately separate

“oh, there are my two star students! I know this last test was particularly devilish, but you guys did great!!” he beamed at you two, and you could see the confusion forming on Kuroo’s face

“especially you, Miss Y/n! you should be proud- after all you were the only student to get a perfect score!!” and with that announcement, your math teacher walked away

as soon as he was out of sight, Kuroo lifted you up and over his shoulder

“wha- hey BABE PUT ME DOWN” you thrash your legs around, but it’s no use

“not until you apologize for deceiving me like that” he says, acting nonchalant as he passes by confused students

“okay but you were the one making unnecessary jokes in the first place. psSHH how could you think I failed that test when I had the best tutor in the world?”

Kuroo smiles at that comment, but still doesn’t let you down

at the other end of the hallway, Kenma sees the two of you and sighs, “I hate it here” before walking away

Oikawa

you were definitely used to seeing girls flock around your boyfriend

and it didn’t instill any sort of insecurity- although admittedly it did get annoying because it did feel odd knowing that there were girls still trying to win his affection.

still, he never accepted any gifts from them or did anything to make it seem like he was actually interested in them out of respect for your relationship

one morning, you’re at school early for morning duties and you see the four third years heading towards the clubroom

upon seeing you, Oikawa envelopes you in a hug and proceeds to twirl you around

“you guys are literally disgusting” Makki scoffs

ignoring him, Oikawa presents you with a cute box of chocolates

“for you~” he smiles and you eye him suspiciously

“kinda odd for you to have chocolates... where did you get them from Tooru?” you ask

Oikawa rolls his eyes and decides to joke around, “oh yeah a really cute girl gave them to me this morning”

you could see the receipt from the store he bought it from peeking from his school jacket pocket, but somehow you thought it would be a good idea to mess around with him

your smile drops, “oh- you got them... from another girl? that’s cool. um I don’t really want chocolate right now so maybe you should take them!! you should eat them, since you know... a cute girl got it for you!” you offer him a weak smile before announcing you had to head to your classroom for your morning duties

you walk out of the room quickly, praising yourself for your stupendous actions as you recount the third years’ reactions

Oikawa’s face was filled with panic when he thought that you misunderstood his joke

and the other three stood there wide-eyes, not knowing what to do

things would only get funnier throughout the day because naturally, Oikawa would find himself surrounded by girls in the hall

and everytime you witnessed this, you made sure to have some sort of sad expression when you made eye contact with him

you don’t know why you decided to take this little prank even further, but you’re literally hiding in the library in order to avoid Oikawa during lunch

since Oikawa can’t find you, he mopes back to his friends

“Iwa-chan, I think Y/n is upset with meeeee” he whines

“probably, it’s your fault for saying you got the chocolates from another girl you dumbass” Iwaizumi isn’t the most comforting, but you gotta appreciate his honesty

“you know what bothers me though?” Makki speaks up, “I don’t think Y/n is this dumb to believe Oikawa’s joke”

Mattsun nods hid head, “I was literally thinking the same thing. Oikawa would be a big enough idiot to fall for something like this-”

“what, okay first of all that’s rude. also I don’t know if it’s fair to say Y/n is faking her emotions” Oikawa says. of course he doesn’t want to dismiss your own feelings, no matter how off script they may seem

back in the library, you decide to stop the whole act when you see him after school- right before he has practice

throughout the rest of the day, Oikawa is trying to text you- trying to explain everything. but you leave his messages on DELIVERED

he starts to think about how you might have gotten more insecure seeing him be flocked upon by girls and how you probably just didn’t share this feeling

it probably didn’t get any better considering he pretended he accepted chocolates from another girl

he plans out an entire apology for you!! like he is writing an outline of all the times he has wronged you and how it was all just a stupid joke. like he is really keen on making sure you understand how much he loves you and only you

after class he’s unable to find you until he gets a message from Iwaizumi that you’re sitting behind the gym

when Oikawa manages to evade his fans, he sees you sitting against the gym wall, scrolling through your phone

he sits in front of you, and when you notice him, he grabs your hands and begins his apology

“Y/n. I wanted you to know that I lied about getting the chocolates from a girl this morning-”

“I know” you manage to slip in in the middle of his words

“I thought it would be really funny to joke about it but- wait did you say you knew? Who told you, and when?” he looks surprised, wondering which one of his friends confronted you about it

“uhhh I knew the second you told me. plus I saw the store receipt sticking out in your pocket soooo” you giggle at him, but slowly your laughter ceases when his own face gets serious

“you’re telling me that you knew about this, and still decided to ignore me.” his eyes staring into yours are enough to make you lose your thoughts for a second

“I- uh, well you joked around with me first Tooru!!! so I thought I would... do the same?” you smile sweetly, hoping he would forgive you

your boyfriend rolls his eyes, and pulls you forward and into his arms

you wrap your arms around his torso and let out a content sigh- to be honest you did miss being around him today. plus he wasn’t upset with you so no harm no foul-

“you’re so sly Y/n-chan” he whispers in your ear, and you feel a blush forming on your face

but before anything could happen, Iwaizumi rounds the corner of the building

“Shittykawa get your ass over here, it’s time for practice”

leave it to Iwaizumi to ruin the mood

Bokuto

no why would you ignore the owl boy : (

because sometimes he needs to be HUMBLED

it’s already after school, and you were watching the volleyball team practice

today’s practice was much more lax than usual, so it was entertaining to see the team just play around for fun

you’re watching them practice their serves and chatting with the managers when a ball bounces off the floor and hits your face

your face stings for a bit, but you’re completely fine since it wasn’t a direct hit

you look up to see the perpetrator approaching you- and it’s your boyfriend. of course

Bokuto bites his lip, but he can’t help but laugh at what had happened

“oh my god, babe- I'm so sorry but seeing your shocked face right before the ball hit you was the funniest thing ever”

he cups your face to check for injuries but his smile falters when he sees you looking upset

“kou- that really hurt me. I can’t believe you laughed” you pout at him

no of course you weren’t upset, but he literally laughed at you for getting hit. he should feel a bit upset

without giving Bokuto a chance to react, you escape from his hands to hide behind Yukie and Kaori

when the managers turn around to face you, they see you give them a small wink and they give you a small nod in return

turning back to the captain, who sat this point looks really confused and slightly worried, the managers keep up the charade

“Bokuto, you should just let Y/n calm down. get back to practicing” Yukie says and they return to practice

the managers pull you off to the side

“well, I think we deserve an explanation since we just covered your ass there” Kaori says, trying really hard not to laugh and draw in suspicion

“oh my goodness, you saw what happened!! I don’t think Koutarou should have teased me like that. there’s nothing wrong with teaching him a lesson!” you say in a low voice

“I don’t know... don’t get me wrong I think it’s hilarious in theory. but are you sure about this”

you shrug at your friends, “yeah, it’ll be a fun joke.” and the two managers sigh, knowing what would happen to the ace

when the three of you appear back in the team’s line of sight, Bokuto is throwing glances at you, in hopes that you look back

and when you do, his heart absolutely shatters when he sees you give him a hurt look

his hair deflates and he lowers his head as he walks towards Akaashi

“Akaashi... I'm a terrible boyfriend. I injured my girlfriend and then laughed about it” he whines

Akaashi remains as honest as ever, “yeah, I think making fun of her was pushing it Bokuto-san. I don’t blame her for being upset”

as practice continues, it doesn’t take long for everyone to notice Bokuto’s decline in skill. he’s very out of it, and just overall sluggish

you watch in shock as Bokuto tells Akaashi to not set to him anymore

Kaori pokes you in your side, “still think this is a good idea, Y/n?” and Yukie sticks her tongue out at you. the two has 100% expected this outcome

to be fair, you knew that Bokuto would feel apologetic, but your top notch acting really intensified things

during the team’s break, you approach your boyfriend, who’s sitting on the bench alone- away from the rest of the team

you shake your head at how dramatic he can be sometimes, still it was cute how much he was worried for you

you tap his shoulder, and when he looks up you simply plop yourself down on his lap and wrap your arms around him

“I’m sorry” you mumble

Bokuto blinks in confusion, “wha-wait what for?”

“I lied to you. I was never upset at you, I just pretended to be because you decided to tease me and I wanted revenge” you bury your head into his neck, half guilty and half embarrassed

Bokuto wraps his arms around you and takes a deep breath in

maybe he should be upset that you had messed with him, but you were really remorseful and so cute, he decided to forget about it and skip the lecture

instead he gives the top of your head a kiss, “you’re forgiven. but I’m also sorry for hitting and laughing at you” he says

you lift your head to kiss him, “well then, I guess we’re even then” and like that, Bokuto returns to normal

the two of you cuddle a bit more before the team heads back to practice some more

somehow that has given him strength, and his spikes are even more powerful than before

please don’t get hit this time though

don’t look too close (m)

stalker!bokuto kōtarō x fem!reader

warnings: tw yandere, tw stalking, tw implied kidnapping, implied voyeurism, mentions of murder, (consensual) nsfw, rough sex

word count: 3.8k

day 2/9 of candy corn

the most beautiful person in the world? the most intelligent, the funniest, the sweetest, the kindest person who hangs the sun and the stars and the moon in the sky, who makes the world spin, who makes the air feel light and refreshing? the one who makes bokuto’s life worth living, the one who permeates his thoughts from the moment he wakes to the moment he’s drifting into sleep?

you.

you’re his soulmate, bokuto knows it. he knew it from his very first day at college when he saw you buying your coffee- an iced vanilla frappucino- and he could feel the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat change. now it only pounded for you, the love of his life.

he just thinks you’re so sweet, especially when you’re leaving your house every morning and you always stop by the fence, blessing your young, handsome neighbour with your stunning smile as you two chat. bokuto thinks you’re so kind, the way you shyly laugh at the neighbour’s flirtatious lines and that you always lend him sugar and milk when he runs out and you once even baked him a tray of sweet-smelling cookies but it simply won’t do- bokuto is the only one who can love you so protecting you from your grey-haired neighbour was worth it to see you look dejected when your neighbour suddenly loses his job at the local elementary school and has to move back to his hometown, hoping the stain of the anonymous complaint won’t cling to him there too.

you’re also so smart, bokuto observes. he likes hearing your pretty voice explain the writer’s use of symbolism in the play to your classmate, some skinny, scrawny boy with deep green hair and freckles. he looks at you too much like bokuto does though, eyes wide and sparkling which bokuto tries to appreciate- you really are amazing- but you’re his. so it’s a shame but all for the greater good when your classmate suddenly starts to avoid you like the plague, his eyes wide with something akin to fear and stammering a weak excuse when you do try to approach him.

bokuto thinks you’re so goofy when you’re cooking in the kitchen, pop music playing from your speakers as you dance around, the aroma of spices hanging in the air as you use the wooden spoon as a microphone. he thinks you’re so cute how your eyes glaze with tears and you sniffle into your blanket when you’re watching some drama on the television and you always smell so sweet- he isn’t quite sure what the scent is but he’ll remember to look closely at your perfumes the next time he’s in your bedroom- it’ll make a nice birthday present for you in exactly three months time. he thinks you look so mesmerising when you study, a little crease between your brows and hair bundled out of the way as you think hard, you’re just so smart. and he really likes the tidy hairstyle you wear when you're working; with all those pretty locks tied up, you can barely notice the big chunk bokuto just had to take from you to keep in his pocket so he can feel you all day. your hair is so silky and smells sweetly of honey and cinnamon he just had to buy the same shampoo too.

but bokuto’s favourite part of you is when night falls and your room glows with orange candlelight. you look so sensual when you undress yourself, your body so beautiful that he wants to trace his fingers over every inch of you and kiss every part of you. he’s mesmerised when you lie down on your bed, hand disappearing between your legs. you look so pretty, every sinful face you make as you stuff your cunt full of your fingers and fuck yourself till you’re cumming, mouth parted open with a name bokuto imagines is his own. you make him feel so different, so hot and flustered and overcome with need that he always tries to time his own climax with yours, fisting his cock and biting his lip to stifle his deep moans as he releases all over his own hand. sometimes he just wants to remember it forever, remember every part of you forever so that’s why he has his phone camera pointed towards you, no matter what you’re doing.

but most of all, bokuto’s thankful that despite many of your amazing qualities being observant is not one of them. he’s glad you don’t notice his golden eyes peering into your windows, watching you when you’re getting out of the shower and dropping your towel to reveal your wet, glistening body. you don’t notice the constant second shadow trailing after you when you’re walking through empty streets, headphones blasting music and blocking out the world and his footsteps and loud presence behind you. you don’t notice the creaking floorboards when you’re sleeping in your bedroom and brush off the sounds of clattering outside your home as a stray cat, the shadow that switches off the television you’ve kept on and setting an extra alarm to make sure you don’t oversleep, and it’s even better that you’re so unobservant because you don’t notice just how many panties have seemingly gone missing from your laundry basket. you don’t notice that the cctv image of the grey-haired suspect who was last seen by the canal where your ex-boyfriend’s body turns up, battered and bruised, looks eerily similar to the man who sat at the table behind you at the cafe where your ex-boyfriend revealed he was cheating on you, leaving you a sobbing, heartbroken mess. you don’t notice the golden eyes that watch your boss from your part-time job harass you in the empty car park, his groping hands going too far, only he never shows up for work again. his wife begs on the news surrounded by reporters for him to come home.

it’s time now.

the taste of alcohol is fiery on bokuto’s lips but it doesn’t match the warmth in his chest, the electrifying exhilaration he feels when he watches you over the flashing coloured lights from across the crowded room. you’re with a group of friends, smiling and laughing as you sway your hips in tune to the thumping music, looking absolutely delectable in the short, black dress, face painted as a cracked china doll. he doesn’t mind that you’re with friends- after all, he’s made sure they’re suitable to be in your life and just in case they do happen to mess up and hurt you he’s gathered useful information: the tall red haired man has a peanut allergy, the younger blonde girl doesn’t have a fire alarm installed in her apartment and the pretty, black-haired girl with glasses drives a car and a number of things can go innocently wrong with that.

he watches you carefully, waiting for the moment you finally pant something to your friends then you’re walking away, swaying slightly from how many drinks you’ve downed. this is bokuto’s chance, his heart drumming and butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he grins, tossing his drink into some random plant pot as he follows after you into the kitchen. the hallways and rooms are filled with people, the garden overspilling too as the music blares, a heavy stench of alcohol and sweat lingering but that’s halloween college parties and bokuto’s only here for one reason.

“anything good in there?” his voice is bright and cheerful even though his heart is pounding too fast when he steps behind you, admiring the curve of your ass visible under the short hem of your skirt as you bend over to rifle through the fridge.

“barely anything- but what do you expect from a frat house?” your voice is honey and your smile so beautiful and radiant bokuto feels like he’s going to faint when you stand up straight and face him. you look gorgeous, even under the slightly-tangerine lightbulbs, your makeup half-faded and skin greasy with oils, bokuto has never thought you’ve looked any more wonderful and now you’re really here, you’re really here smiling at him and speaking to him. “i’m y/n.” he thinks it’s cute the way you introduce yourself like he doesn’t know you already, like he doesn’t know your birthday, your high school, your parents’ names and where they work and what elementary school your older sister’s kids go to.

“bokuto kōtarō.”

he notices your eyes scanning his face before they slowly rake down his body, taking in his broad shoulders and muscular arms that ripple underneath his short-sleeved t-shirt, his veiny hands and a smirk grows when your eyes widen as they drop down to his crotch, down his thighs. he feels light inside, almost dizzy and giddy.

“have we met before?” you ask shyly, tilting your head as you look back up at his face. your eyes narrow slightly with intrigue. “you feel so familiar, like i’ve seen you around before or met you somewhere possibly?” bokuto quickly shakes his head- he isn’t a complete idiot and his friend kenma, the one who introduced him to all the secret reddit threads and discord servers of how to go about finally getting the love you’ve been pining over, taught him enough of how to go about this. so bokuto smiles gently as he shakes his head, locking his gleaming gold eyes with yours.

“i don’t think we have- i’d have remembered meeting a girl as beautiful as you.”

bokuto knew it would work- after all, akaashi had provided him with plenty of pick up lines- but the thrill of seeing you get so visibly flustered, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you chuckle, is incomparable. he’s never felt so whimsical before but it encourages him more, akaashi and kuroo’s advice ringing in his mind as he steps closer to you, not bearing to tear his gold eyes away from yours.

“do you say that to every girl, bokuto?”

“no, only beautiful girls like you.”

you gaze at bokuto softer now, your eyes growing warm as a gentle smile tugs at your lips.

“stop flattering me.” you suddenly laugh, looking away as you draw your arms around yourself. he can see you’re hurting still, the pain of being cheated on and then the grief of your ex-boyfriend dying, male friends drifting away when they consistently avoid you and no other men being interested in you anymore. but it’s okay, bokuto’s heart wrenches with guilt for you- it really does- but he won’t hurt you like they all would. he loves you more than anyone else. he’s the only one worthy of you.

with a bit of smooth talking, flirtatious compliments, extra shots of cheap tequila that burns the back of his throat and gentle touches, bokuto has you right where he wants you: hanging onto his arm as you accompany him to his apartment. the cold october air is crisp, leaves crunching under your feet and the sound of music from halloween house parties thumping in the distance. house porches are glowing orange as eerie jack-o-lanterns sneer at you walking past, the heavy gusts of wind howling through bare trees like alarms, the darkness of the sky overpowering the silvery glow of the moon as you chatter away to him, laughing at all his sporadic remarks. it makes his heart feel like gold, like he’s special to you.

bokuto’s lips are on yours the moment you both step into his apartment, the door slamming shut behind him with a click of the lock. you taste bitter with alcohol but so sweet nonetheless, it makes his head spin to finally be kissing you, his arms wrapping around and pulling you close. you’re just as hungry, fingers threading through his soft grey locks and he can’t even think- he can smell your sweet scent and touch you freely, things he could only do gently in the dead of the night when you’re fast asleep, sick with anxiety just in case you stir.

“kōtarō,” you sigh against his lips, pressing your forehead against his with his saliva glistening off your lips. you’re pressing yourself into him, tilting your head back to allow him to trace open-mouthed kisses down your neck. your voice is so husky with lust it makes bokuto’s cock so hard, straining against his jeans. the beautiful sounds he’s imagined you’d make, the way your ass would feel in his hands, what it’d feel like to grope your tits and finally be inside you, having you cum on his cock and moan his name- it’s finally coming true for him. he can’t let it go, growling as he bites hard on your delicate skin, making you yelp out. “please fuck me!”

it’s the words he’s always wanted to hear, moaning into your wet, bruised skin as his big hands grip the underside of your thighs.

“jump, baby.” you do as he says, clinging to his neck and pressing hot, needy kisses to his flushed throat as he carries you to his bedroom. he’s desperate, throwing you on the bed and grinning as he climbs over you, kissing you messily with his tongue sliding into your mouth and his fingers yanking at your dress impatiently. you yelp into his mouth at the feeling of his rough fingers tugging your clothes off but you’re still as hungry, hands reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, the kiss only breaking reluctantly when to pull his top off but bokuto tries to prolong it as much as possible, his teeth clinging to your swollen bottom lip.

“you’re so hot.” he moans when you reach for his belt, his eyes fluttering shut when your hands brush his clothed erection. “i’ve been waiting for this for too long.” it’s a good thing you’re too lost in lust to notice anything, your mind cloudy with the wetness dampening your panties. “you don’t know how hard you make me, how much i feel for you.” whilst you’re reaching into the waistband of his boxers for his dick, it feels sweet, romantic even. the past few months had sudden gotten so lonely for you it’s no reason why you sidle closer to bokuto, your eyes wide as you cling to his words.

“oh my-” you lick your lips as you pull out his hard cock, your fingers just about fitting around his thick girth. he’s painfully hard, the head an angry red and precum dribbling from the slit, bokuto hissing when you swipe your thumb across. “you’re massive.” your words make him still, his cock twitching in your fist as he groans.

“you’re too good to me, you’re perfect, just so perfect.” he’s mumbling as he meets his lips again in a messy kiss, moaning as you stroke him whilst his rough fingers delve into your panties, rubbing fast at your clit that you miss the words he sighs into your mouth. “you’re even more perfect that i thought you’d be.”

his fingers grow wet with your slick as he provides you sweet, warm pleasure, his tongue exploring all depths of your mouth as you stroke him, enjoying his deep grunts when you rub at the sensitive cockhead. but you can tell he’s getting impatient when he bucks up into your hand, thrusting his cock into your fist.

“i need to fuck you.” he breaks away from your lips, a thin string of saliva trailing from his tongue to yours as he pushes you down flat on the bed. “please, please, i need to fuck you.”

“kōtarō,” your voice is gentle as you rub his muscular thigh comfortingly, surprised to hear the way he sounds so close to tears. “please do.”

you sigh at the cold air hitting your wet folds when bokuto peels down your lacy panties, hissing at the strings of slick that cling to the dark fabric.

“so beautiful.” he groans, spreading your legs apart and tapping his cock against your swollen clit, making you jerk and whine at the stimulation. “i’m going to treat you so well.” his eyes are fixated with watching his cock disappear into into your dripping hole, your high moans filling the room as your walls squeeze him tight.

“kōtarō-” you choke out, eyes watering. “you’re so- ah- big!”

“you’re too good to me, y/n.” he grunts, wincing at the bittersweet pain of your nails clawing down his back as he presses his chest flush against yours, grinding his pubic bone against your clit. your eyes look so pretty, sparkling as you gaze at bokuto- it’s all he’s wanted, all he’s ever wanted and he can’t have it end. he’ll make this heaven for you.

every thrust is so sweet and delicious to bokuto, your walls hugging his thick cock as he fucks you, your moans a symphony harmonising with his. it feels so good, so fucking good to be kissing you, to be deep inside you and thrusting against your gummy walls and bruising your neck with biting, possessive kisses because you’re his, you’re finally his.

“you feel so good,” he breathes against you, his hips snapping against yours messily over the sound of your sopping cunt squelching. “your pussy’s squeezing me so tight- fuck-”

“kōtarō!” you’re whining his name, hips rising to meet his thrusts as you snake a hand between your bodies, rubbing at your clit and eyes rolling to the back of your head whilst bokuto wraps his lips around your swollen nipples. he sucks hard, nibbling on the sensitive nud to hear you yelp, your other hand clinging to his bicep with your nails piercing into his skin.

“wait, i want to see your pretty, tight pussy take my fat cock.”

bokuto slides out of you, grinning when you whine at the emptiness as he grips you and flips you over, pulling your ankles and pushing your head down into the mattress as you arch your ass up. “that’s it, princess- face down, ass up. look at that pretty cunt. all mine.” his mind is hazy, too focused on sliding his cock back into your quivering hole, mesmerised by the way your tight pussy sucks his glistening cock back in, your slick dripping down your thighs as you whine out into the mattress.

“fuck! make me cum, i want to cum all over your cock.” hungry and desperate, bokuto growls as he fucks you, his balls lewdly slapping against your ass as he fucks you hard, slapping your ass between gripping your hips so hard you’ll be left with bruises.

“i’m going to make you cream all over my cock, i’m going to make you scream my name.” he’s panting through his moans, fucking you even deeper and spanking your ass harder, your skin’s almost welting. he groans as your walls clamp down harder on his twitching cock. “are you going to cum for me? cum for me.” his nails scrape your scalp as his hand clutch your hair, yanking you by it as you cry out. you’re a mess, your nails catching onto bokuto’s hand that grips your hair, tears streaming down your cheeks and drool spilling from your lips that are stretched out with not cries of pleasure falling from you but cries of anguish.

“stop, it hurts!” you cry but bokuto can’t stop, silencing you by slobbering wet kisses over your cheek and jaw. “you’re too deep- it’s too much- stop!”

“cum for me first.” he growls. it can’t end yet. he’s finally fucking you, the love of his life and even though you’re trembling and sobbing, he can’t stop yet. “cream all over my cock and become all mine first. fuck- cum now!” you can’t hold back any longer, sobbing and almost screaming when your sore, abused walls convulse around bokuto’s throbbing length and you’re gushing all over him, your wetness dripping down his cock and your thighs as he fucks you through your high, groaning when your tight cunny pulls an orgasm from him, his hot seed filling you.

the moment he lets go of you, you collapse onto the bed, gasping for air as you stare out at the wall ahead of you, dizzy and dazed. the photographs strung up with the yellow orbs of fairylights are a blur- but they remind you of your own home, your own bedroom which you just crave so bad. you don’t want to be here. not anymore. bokuto’s cum drips out of you slowly, his heavy pants too loud for you as you shake, tears slowly streaming down your cheeks, your body aching. you can’t even bear to look at him, instead staring at the photographs on the wall as your teary vision begins to sharpen.

“kōtarō, you should’ve stopped-” you freeze, your heart stopping. the rush of hormones fades and the cloudiness in your mind dissipates as you quickly sit up, edging closer to the headboard against the wall.

“y/n?” bokuto sounds confused behind you as you press your hands against the wall, your face falling with horror.

photographs. all of you. your face smiling when you’re enjoying an iced coffee with your friend. your face contorted into a studious frown as you study in the library. your face when you’re doing grocery shopping, when you’re cooking, when you’re in the bath, when you’re pleasuring yourself, when you’re sleeping.

“you psycho!” it’s a high shriek, your voice shaking as you scramble to get away from him, eyes wide with fear. bokuto looks confused, sat at the end of the bed naked as he gazes at you. was that hurt in his eyes? it makes you feel sick, your body feeling dirty as you hug yourself and scramble to find your clothes. but as you look around his bedroom, too much becomes clear. too much becomes familiar: your pink panties sitting on the pile of laundry on the chair; your hairbrush you misplaced on his dresser; the shampoo and perfume you wear there too and...was that your childhood teddy bear you thought you lost in one of the storage boxes when moving on his shelf? “what the fuck is wrong with you? you creep, you fucking creep!” your throat hurts as you shrink in on yourself at the opposite end of his bed, hugging yourself as bokuto stares at you, a little pout on his lips.

“y/n,” he says again. this time it’s slower, deeper. almost threatening. “don’t upset me. please.” his jaw clenches when your eyes flicker to his bedroom door, your heart hammering against your chest as you gasp for air. “it’ll make things harder for us. don’t make me sad.”

“h-harder for us? are you crazy?”

“i’m not crazy!” he yells it, his voice mixed with rage and sadness and his golden eyes don’t seem so warm anymore, not when his large hands are curled into fists and his teeth are bared.

“l-let me go. please.” it’s a futile last attempt but bokuto just exhales heavily, crawling up closer towards you with a cold grin stretching across his face.

“you’re mine now. everything i did was for you...how can i let you go when i love you?”

this was hades, not heaven.

it would’ve been better to have stayed blind.

┌─ “ ! „ CADAVER

tw. wound fucking, blood, gore, don’t read this if you’re squeamish!!, somnophilia, oral, noncon, megumi is delusional in this, yandere, belly bulge but gross! , cannibalistic thoughts wordcount. 6.4k

a/n. this one,,, was me pushing myself to just go buck wild, and channel my inner junji, and i think i got somewhere with it... a select few of you will understand me when i say that ,, this is like my love letter to megumi fr ♡ like i said though, this one might be the one that has people a little yucked out but! it's basically my halloween fic, for the spooky month

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

When the rattling of the stretcher finally quiets in the halls and the rising rate of adrenaline starts to flatten out, Megumi’s lost on what to do. Any of the other sorcerers can’t decide what the next step is either, it seems. Yuji with his back pressed against the glass and staring off into the empty part of the hall they just came from, and principal Yaga a stern quietness and arms crossed. Ieiri-san will do her best work today of any days if there’s anything to be done about it, but Megumi can tell. That uncertainty hangs over all of them as the faint breathing of a collapsed body grows more pitched and panicked.

Megumi always sort of hated you. He didn’t like you from the second he first met you, and it just grew and grew and grew from there. He hates your stupid demeanor with your higher-than-thou morals and your sky-high milestones and that grin that could make even the coldest heart split in two. It doesn’t escape him that this is the same reason he always did enjoy Maki, but you were — more recognizable to him, and yet somehow much further away.

He always hated the way he’d catch himself watching the soft motion of your lashes, or how your mouth would form words, the heat that would carry color to your face. He always hated the quiet moments you’d sit by his side, rattling his heart out of his chest and laughing at him for his hot cheeks; and he always hated how you’d be the thought on his mind right after he’d made sure his own limbs hadn’t yet been blown to bits. But standing with his hands covered in a coating of blood that isn’t his, dripping onto the panes of the old flooring, he wonders what that hatred ever really got him. It never helped him understand you better, that for someone so alike himself, you were so much better at everything.

His chest is rising and falling too fast.

Gojo’s too late, always is when it comes down to the wire, Megumi thinks as the lankier man rushes through and stops a few feet away from them. Yaga’s brow pinches, before he lifts his head the slightest bit to acknowledge the white blond. “What’s the status,” Gojo has to ask, and before he has another conscious thought, Megumi’s furiously rubbing his hands over his sweater in an attempt to get the blood off while his teeth clack with how hard he’s clenching them. There’s a thickness between his ears that makes everything sound far off. The blood stains his fingers the more he rubs, and his face gets hotter and hotter as it lasts.

But he thinks he hears the principal explain.

How you had been pinned down and knocked clean out, head bashed against the concrete pillars. How Megumi had been too busy trying and failing to keep the uglier curse from blasting you both to shit, to notice. How the other special grade had picked you up by the neck and unceremoniously shoved something into your mouth and pushed until it went down your throat - until you started convulsing, spitting out blood and bile before he could reach you. Megumi hadn’t taken the time to look then, but he knows now what it was, slimy, decaying contents of a little vial that had gone missing a few months ago.

“The girl must’ve been a real good match.” Yaga pushes his fingers to his brow, as if forcibly trying to push the frown down. “Ieiri’s doing what she can.” It doesn’t make any of them feel better when Gojo clicks his tongue and aims his eyes at the door, before casting a quick glance at Megumi under thick, blond lashes. He wants to puke. He’d shoved his fingers down your throat for what felt like hours, trying desperately to get you to throw up the curse. Had carried you all the way back while you were sobbing and wailing in pain. Nothing.

If even the worst case repeats itself, they’ll have another incarnation on their hands, and the noose will be tightened around your throat. Yuji must have already realized this, because he’s yet to say anything since you’d been tied onto the stretcher with blood pouring out of your nose and ears and coughing up grime. Megumi’s not even sure if Ieiri would hesitate to put you down without a second warning before it gets to the same turning point. And he is pissed. At the situation, his friends, himself, you. He’s so angry his hands shake, and so angry tears start stinging behind his eyes, feeling like any motion might cause him to throw up. He hates you.

+

Your chest’s rising with big motions up and down, up and down, as you drum your feet on his bedsheets like an excited rabbit. Megumi grunts, snatches the book from your hands and tosses it back down with the others that were not-so-neatly stacked on his desk. Your shape on his bed makes a dent in his mind that he’ll have to keep replaying over and over when he closes his eyes, and it has a frown pulling his eyebrows down automatically. “So grumpy,” you yawn, and also roll over onto your stomach to tuck your legs to your core, lifting one hand to rest your face into it.

“This isn’t your room.”

“Might as well be,” you giggle back, and he watches for a moment as your hair falls along your shoulders in a gentle brush, making you look even more enchanting. You’re soft and parts of you are shiny like silk, seemingly oozing your rosy, peachy aura all over his stuff. You catch his eyes for just a few breaths, still rising your chest too distractingly, before you push yourself up and slide off the bed to walk up to him. He pivots to thumb through the notes on his desk again, to be farther away from your face probably, and his shoulders rise into an uncomfortable pinch when you approach, feet patting on his floor. “Megumi.” You say his name with a clear pout.

Then heat covers his skin at the base of his throat and he freezes, letting the way you drag your soft lips over his pulse fill him up entirely. His hands shake too hard to keep a grip on the paper, so he spins you around and shoves you back against the desk as you hiss at the sudden painful grip, his fist wrapped into the collar of your shirt. “I already told you to stop doing that.” He hisses, and your eyes are wide and glittering like diamonds, beautiful color peering up at him.

“But you like it when I do that,” you whisper back ever so softly, and his head feels like it’s splitting at the seams, cracking his skull under a non-escapable pressure. He can’t think, can’t even eat normally without the ghost of you hanging over him and shaking him up. It’s unbearable even when you’re not around. His fist unclenches from the flimsy fabric to instead grip your chin with his thumb, and his heart bangs against his ribcage harder than can be normal. Harder than is healthy. A little thought in the back of his skull begs to push. Just once, deny you from digging your claws deeper into him— but he’s already melted to your shape before he can blink.

His face drops like you’re magnetic, thighs pushing you further into the desk and also into him; and it’s truly embarrassing that his hands are still shaking like they do. You lean in when he does, and let your lips meet his hungry, treacherous mouth, other hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer. Your tongue brushes his and he implodes inside, and he swears it hurts to be this close to you.

Not that you care. Your arms wind around his neck to pull him even closer, and his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin.

+

He finds himself wandering back to the quieter wing of the school when the sun’s already dipped far past the horizon, and the cold starts picking up. He’s dragging his feet, so he won’t fucking rush back to the room he finds himself thinking about so fast he stumbles. He’s glaring at the patterns in the floorboards so he doesn’t cry. You’re stable- quiet puffs of air escaping your nose every few seconds, but you’re still under surveillance. As far as the clans are concerned, they’ll put something sharp between your eyes sooner rather than later, before whatever’s slumbering inside you wakes up. But Gojo’s fighting for you. It makes him grimace to think about.

Knocking his knuckles onto the doorframe, he enters the dimly lit room. Nanami doesn’t stand when he spots him, but does uncross his legs as he takes a deep breath. Neither of them speak for a while, and the dark haired man takes that time to run his eyes over you. You’re not as dirty as you were when you first got back, shivering and shaking. You’re no longer dripping with blood, though he’s sure if he were to look close enough, he’d still be able to see flecks of it between your cracked lips. As he walks up, he finds himself thinking that you look strangely peaceful, and that doesn’t seem entirely right.

Save for the bloody mark that seems branded into your forehead, you look like you’re quietly sleeping on the metal slab that supports your body. After all the pain and agony you’ve caused in him, sleepless nights and long days of wondering, hoping you’d be okay. Why is it that he’s the one affected by you? Why is it that he’s the one who’s going to have to say goodbye again? He stares at your unmoving form as if that’ll give him an answer, but it doesn’t. And the pit in his stomach swells again. He’s just so angry all the time. Megumi breathes out. “It’s my turn to take watch for a while.”

“You’re early,” Nanami’s deep baritone chastises, but he gets up from the seat anyway. He smooths out the wrinkles in his suit, before slowly placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. The weight is heavy, and somehow doesn’t soothe him at all. But there’s an attempt, he guesses. He’s still not entirely sure why everyone is looking at him like he’s the one who needs it most, broken and disheveled and mourning. He’s been able to finish his tasks like everyone else has, and he can banish the thought of you when he’s supposed to focus on work— at least, mostly. He doesn’t need the fucking pity. “Want some coffee? Or green tea?” Nanami asks, letting his hand slide off when Megumi shrugs.

“No. I’m okay.”

The older man seems to hesitate, simply nodding when he walks past. Before closing the door behind him, he once again clears his voice, and Megumi turns over his shoulder. The blond has this look in his eyes, of pity, as he talks. “Megumi, there’s a chance she pulls through.” Why again - that fucking pity? “Don’t give up.” Though it makes him tingle with an unbearable sort of itch deep under the skin, he grits his teeth, and his brain’s hot and irritated when he responds.

“I wasn’t going to.” Nanami doesn’t seem to believe him, but still softly slides the door closed behind him, and when the footsteps grow softer and softer, Megumi allows for a second to collect himself. He braces his hands onto the metal as he leans in, close enough to feel just the slightest bit of your warmth on his fingers, and see the way you’re still breathing, though shallow, too faint for his liking. His brows pinch when he finds himself with his forehead pressed to your stomach, hunched over like he’s praying at your shrine or something. But he can’t help it.

As much time as he spent beside you with a frown on his face, it never feels enough. He can’t stay away, like it’s an involuntary thing— you leave him no choice in the matter. Even here in the darkness, whining softly into your wheezed breaths, it isn’t enough to be beside you. He can’t do anything from here at your bedside; and that uselessness makes him feel even more uneasy. He needs to be closer to you. Wants to be so close you two get stuck together and melt together like an inseparable entity, would want to crawl inside you if he could.

His nose presses into the clean shirt that smells like your laundry, as he clenches his fists so hard along the table edge they start to ache. His eyes are pressed closed tight when he allows him just a second to nose below your sternum, and that uncomfortable stinging sensation comes back to his eyes. “Fucking idiot,” his lips brush against your covered skin, taking in the lack of heat, of your smell and the way you sounded with his face buried there, “I didn’t mean it.”

+

“Aw, ow, ow, Megumi~” You pout with a pitched whine as his hand stays screwed around your knee for a little longer, keeping you trapped under his heavier, taller body so that you start wiggling. Your head falls back against his arm, and you lean to press a few kisses to his wrist that’s holding your own to the floor. “Be more gentle.” You pout when you pull back and flash him that fucking look that sends icy shivers down his spine, and exactly nothing else. “You can be gentle, can’t you?” Every other part of him flushes with heat under your doe-eyed, pitiful look, definitely when you start wiggling out of his grasp like you’re suddenly over the game.

You started it. He wouldn’t put himself in your range on purpose. When you’re about halfway out from under his crouched form, you sit up to be face to face; and you brush your hand past his ear, down his jaw and neck and trail his collarbones, all places he’s convinced are now stained a bright, obnoxious pink from his flush. You let your fingers linger when you tilt your head aside a bit so you can slot your lips over his into a sweet, little kiss, and you pull your lips into another pout. “Swear you’re doing it to hurt me sometimes. I’m never trying to hurt you, you know.” A few strands of hair fall over your eye when you sit below him, and he has to fight every single muscle in his body not to push it back for you.

He wants to see your eyes. He wants you to see him like this, pinned under you like the attraction you render him as— his body collapses on top of you as you start giggling all fucking cutely, and his heart races more than it ever has. Your heartbeat drums into his face when he buries it into your softness, chest against his cheek, too long for his own sanity before he drags himself off you. And it is a drag. His entire body starts feeling sluggish when you’re this close to him, close enough to drown himself in your scent. He won’t ever say it, but that scent gets him hard and awfully mellow all at once, his cock coming to life in his pants before he’s moving.

You look happy. Your eyes are those bright, gentle colors that rain down on him, and your lips are quirked into a soft smile, you must know what you’re doing to him. Setting him up for failure again. He huffs and pushes himself onto his back instead, knocking his head to the floor while you’re moving from the rug - splaying your knees either side of him before you nuzzle right back on top of his chest and make it even harder to get a breath, let alone catch it. He’s sure he’s panting a little when you leave your warmth draped all over him, and you don’t do anything other than be there.

His arms are still on the floor, his body rigid under you, but you’re softly giggling into his peck before he frowns down at you again when you catch his eyes. “What?”

“Your heart is beating super fast,” you admit, not proud, not gloating - just stating the fact, and heat overtakes his neck now too. Instead of letting you wind him up any further, he bucks you off and switches positions again, now with your two wrists caught in his hands as you squeak with the ache that probably lodges in your back.

“Can you get off of me?” He sits back on his feet, not letting go of your hands yet, before your eyes flutter and you grab him back. Well, brush your fingers over the skin you can reach, pawing at him just enough to tickle. “What’s with you today?” he bites back, and also snatches his hands back to escape the onslaught of feelings that wash over him. You don’t sit up this time, and from the tilt of your head, you’re considering your answer for a while before you speak out.

“Do you like me, Megumi?” Fuck. His room seems to collapse in on itself. Or, maybe it’s his body— because he gets a little more short of breath, and his thoughts short circuit as his mouth stupidly drops open. He’s choked up for long enough that he has to clear his voice to try an answer, and even then, he gets stuck. You’re studying him so closely it must show. The blaring warmth that fills him up and makes his ears bright red. After another second, your eyes seem to dim slightly, as you push your cheek to your shoulder, opening yourself up to even more attacks. “Love y’, ‘gumi.”

+

He straightens up with enough tightness in his chest to choke him, makes his eyes sting and his head blare cold, painful warnings— he grabs some of the glasses from the small table beside him, launches it straight into the wall until it shatters into a million pieces upon impact. The loud clang doesn’t do anything to settle his anger, where he fists his hands into his hair and pulls, in hopes the worry will somehow vanish.

“Why do you always have to be such a hero?” he hisses, even though you can’t answer now, “wouldn’t it have been enough to just stay here with me?!” He tilts your face to his and drops his lips to yours, and that familiar softness is enough to have him clenching his eyes shut again against the tears. He kisses you until your mouth opens a bit, then slides his tongue up against yours and grips your shoulders, pulling your limp body towards him more. “I’ll be better to you.” He pleads. You don’t move, and the breaths going over his cheeks are so shallow.

But he can’t stop himself from tangling your tongue with his, licking into your mouth and chasing the warmth until he runs out of breath. You’re so fucking pretty still. He kisses you again, bumping teeth, and grips your hip hard as he lays over you a little more, chest to chest and feeling it brush against him with each soft pant he lets out, each gravelly moan. It doesn’t hurt so much to brush his tongue against yours, to swallow your taste on his tongue until his lips numb — but while it doesn’t ache, it’s also not enough. Before he’s able to think about the morality of his actions, his thumbs are hooking under your shirt and pushing it up, over your soft belly and ribcage all the way up until it’s over your tits, where his lips travel to as soon as the skin’s exposed. You’re so soft still, too.

He’s not sure what he’s doing other than leaving messy, open mouth kisses onto you, kneading your skin between his hands as all the warmth in his body pools into his groin. Your tits are sucked into his mouth, one then the other, as he rubs his face into the doughy skin, then he’s pulling and pinching at your tits like he knows makes you whimper. The sound’s burned into his working memory, and it drives him on to run his face down your soft body to the part where your thighs meet. The skin just above your skirt of the softest, warmest, and he full on moans when his cock twitches hard in his pants and he reaches down to grab himself.

Normally you’d be blinking up at him now, sending him that little look with grabby hands, ready to wrap your puffy lips around him— it’s different when it’s his hand screwed around himself and not even moving yet. he can’t, or he’ll cum in his pants, and he’s not going to waste his cum like that when your warm pussy’s right before him. He’s shaky when he pushes the fabric up, flipping it over your tummy; and groans again when he licks down your panties and mouths at the seat of it. It tastes so much like you his eyes roll back, and his knees give a little, while more precum leaks out of him and into his pants.

He frees his hands momentarily to slide you to the edge of the metallic table, two hands gripping your butt and squeezing, then hooking his finger in your panties to just pull them aside. He doesn’t care about the chaffing he’ll have. Not even a second thought when your little pussy is in front of him, and he pushes his mouth to you for some open mouthed kisses, down to your pussy and back up. Wrapping his mouth around your clit, he sucks hard, and rubs the bud a few times with his tongue. He swears your breathing goes more pitched and heavier when he does, when his fingers trail down your puffier lips to rub the bit of wetness around.

His cock’s painfully hard in his pants, and after a few more times licking you up and down so that your slick covers the entire bottom half of his face, he pushes the zipper down and then takes himself out to watch how red and sore the head of his cock already is, oozing pre and coating both his boxers and his shaft. He spits into his hand to give himself a few tight-wrung pumps, tighter than he likes normally- if he doesn’t, he’ll spill all over your cute, little pussy. He pushes his fingertips inside your now wetter cunt, watching it wink and beg for something to fill, and groans when one finger slides in with ease.

Your soft walls are still soft and hot around him, giving mean licks over your clit again and again in a way that would normally overstimulate you too easily. You don’t whimper or whine now, take his finger nice and sweet inside your squelching, gooey walls, only making a little noise when he slides in a second and he can feel the slight bit of stretching you need. He’s dripping onto the table now, balls tight and heavy - imagines how you moan and look when you’re sucking on them and you smack your lips with each open mouthed kiss or lick. You between his legs is always enough to have his knees giving, and it’s no different now, he has to hold himself up against you before he thinks better of it.

You’re slid back on the table too easily, making room for him when he pushes one of your legs aside— and let out a slight gasp when he hoists himself over your body. He just wants you. So bad. It’s not so embarrassing when you’re not awake to see how fucking crazy he looks, flushed, cock twitching between his legs as he strains to kiss you again, lick over your tongue for more of your taste, and breathes your name. “Baby, fuck- I need to be inside you.” He wants to hide away in your safety forever. A crystalline, fucked up thought springs up in his mind for just a second, but he banishes that with a few blinks.

Instead he lines himself up over your hot, needy pussy and pushes inside just the head at first, grunting tightly at the softness that envelops him. His whole body shudders as he pushes in deeper, feeling that pit in his stomach expand with each inch that he goes deeper, tangles his fingers with yours when he bottoms out and fills you up so well. You’re curled into his touch, and he kisses you, his thoughts blanking as he pulls back, and snaps his hips back inside you. You’re hot and wet and it feels so fucking good, clenching your hand inside his larger one. It’s not fair. He’s losing his mind, and you’re always the end of him.

His cock rubs against your swollen insides with rough, imprecise strokes — he doesn’t mean to, it’s just that trying to focus on anything other than the heat as he slides in and out of your tight pussy is too much. You’re too much; you’re haunting him even now. He kisses down your face to your neck, sucks on your skin and bites down hard enough to make a serious mark, wanting to hear you cry. Normally, you’d cry out his name so pretty, dig your nails into his back until he’s letting you go and grinding back on his cock, but you can’t do that now. His cockhead bumps your spot each time he fucks himself into you further, but it’s not enough.

It’s never been enough. He wants to be closer to you, and that horrible image that was launched into his head creeps back up before his eyes, bloody and horrible. Maybe he always told himself that he hated you because - no matter how much he fought, he would never be able to stomach actually hurting you as much as it hurts him. But now, withering on top of you as his cock thumps with how much blood rushes south, everything else falls away. He wants to claw and bite and carve his way to your insides and make you pay just a little for his sins. His body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, thighs pumping blood through his body to his lungs, his gut, his cock.

He pulls out of you to kiss down your tits and over your covered ribs, thumbing over the head of his cock and gliding it over your puffy clit, your wet pussy lips and flicking it just in and out of your drooling cunt— before he puts a sloppy few kisses there too, tongue coated in slick. The blood pumps through his head so hard he feels dizzy, pounding behind his eyes as the heat of your cunt overwhelms him entirely. It’s too hard to stay sane -he’s never felt less sane than now- when you’re laying below him like this, ready to leave him all alone. You wormed your way into his heart when he didn’t want it, and now, now that’s all about to end.

His mouth is dry, but he’s drooling as he grips your thigh and kneads the doughy skin of your tummy— looking so soft and warm and perfectly shaped for him. He wants -needs, needs it, to feel you swallow him, ruin him- to cut you open and eat your insides out with the sick force of what he’s feeling right now— he groans your name again, desperately trying and failing to get it out of his head— the more he tries the better it feels to think it. Despite having his fist around the base of his cock, stings of white shoot over your body as he crumples in on himself and paints you with his cum. He’s still hard though, painfully so, and as soon as he’s done cumming he can already feel the building urge to do it again, trailing his shaking fingers down to your clenching pussy and rubbing your clit until your body starts wiggling back just a little too.

Megumi wants to go, bury this urge down and never think of it again. He really does— but it’s like he’s possessed, drooling over your body and flicking his cock in and out of your pussy without sliding back in. He might’ve had it wrong this whole time, but if this is love - God, he loves you, he loves, loves, loves you so much he’s not ever going to have enough. Can’t ever say goodbye, not when his entire soul’s been bound to yours, has been rotted away into nothing like this. There’s only you, and him; and he can’t get close enough to make this fucking feeling go away.

With black spots swimming over his vision, he’s not sure what he’s doing until he’s knelt on the floor and shards of glass cut his knees open through his pants; he doesn’t feel it - just trembles as he gets one of the larger shards and crawls back to you, right between your plush thighs as he kisses your face over and over until he feels like he’ll be sick. “Forgive me when you wake up, baby.” It doesn’t really sound like him anymore, faint and messy as he ruts his cock against the inside of your thigh and stares at your face for a little longer. He paws at your tummy again, maybe it’s the lack of oxygen - he feels like he hasn’t taken a breath in ages - or the fact that all his blood is cleary in his swollen cock, hot and heavy.

He kisses you again, pants against your chest as he watches between your two bodies as one arm keeps him up, and the other drags the shard of glass below your belly button just hard enough to create a little cut. He just- just wants to be a little closer, you’ll let him, you’ll let him- he’s been so fucking mean to you and if he can just do this, he’ll make it up to you. Specks of blood well up that he swipes his thumb through to slide it into his mouth, get used to the taste of copper on his tongue. Sometimes he bites your lip hard enough to split it, and you tear up and whine, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He could cum on the spot when you yank like that, but the taste now isn’t enough. As he pushes the shard of glass into your skin harder, watching one layer make way for another, tougher tissue that still gives when he grids down a little- he waits for the moment where he feels bad, regrets and walks it all back- but the feeling doesn’t come. Your body looks so pretty like this, robbed of your innocence by his hands; and he doesn’t wanna cum yet, fuck. The adrenaline swimming in his head is pounding too hard to feel anything other than love for you, and the pulling, almost unbearable sensation of wanting to slide back into you. The blood pools around the hole as he slides along, hearing the skin squelch and snap, building a sweat along his neck and collar. Maybe you’d lick it up if you were awake.

The blood runs, covers his entire fist that’s wrapped tight around the glass, it creates little rivers that you’ll both be laying in soon. He coughs, before kissing you below your jaw, feeling the weak pulse beneath his lips— and righting himself to look at his work with a better angle, groaning. There’s both more blood and less than he expected, pooling in your belly button, all over your pretty pussy, his thighs and hands- his cock not yet. He drops the glass aside as he thumbs over the wound and sure enough- he’s cut through fat and muscle and sinew without too much struggle, because you’re soft all over.

He pushes the fleshy gash open more, thumbs over the clean cut he made with a strange sort of fascination before the hot, hot blood gets to be too much for his curiosity and he leans in to lick from your clit up, up, up until his tongue reaches the raised, tight skin— what has he done, what’s he doing, this, this isn’t — he can’t stand the heat that’s coming out of you for long, and it smells, but that isn’t what sticks with him right now. He’s never wanted to be closer. The gaping pouch of your belly’s drooling red for him. The head of his cock twitches when he feels the hot of your stomach coating him in blood, and coating you in turn. The cum from before’s all but washed away, but he’s sure he can give you another couple orgasms before he tuckers out.

He’s strung so high all of this feels like a dream, like his head is about to roll off of his neck; he pushes in with a garbled sort of sound that comes from deep, deep inside him. The skin doesn’t wanna give way at first, but he manages to push back hard enough before suddenly he’s inside, and it’s like nothing else. The pressure of a slab of skin taking him where it’s not meant to go— bleeding and whining out like this, it’s euphoric. He’s able to see his cock’s outline glide into you until it’s bulging your stomach, squelching and sucking him back in; feels like you’re taking him deeper than ever, letting him fuck his cock so deep he’ll hit your ribs soon. You’re so fucking beautiful, even like this, getting coated and letting him fuck it.

He doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re dying, but the peace that washes him entirely clean might be close; he grinds his hips into you hard enough to rock your body under him as he laces your hands again. Both, this time, just chasing after an end that seems like it’ll never come.

He feels infinite. Your blood’s so hot it’s almost painful, and the tightness of the hole he carved into you is entirely different from your pussy, pushing back against him like you’re begging him to get out. He imagines you’d beg so pretty- but he’s inside you, finally inside and deeper than anyone’s ever been. He’s able to watch his cock blow up your belly and make it hollow when he pulls back, and God- he should feel worse than he does. He could swallow you whole if you’d let him. The feeling has him shuddering over you as he pants your name, makes your tits brush over his chest- and his balls smack against the smooth stretch of skin until he can’t feel his feet any longer.

Now he’s got you dirtied, he wants to ruin you too, leave you a mangled mess of flesh and swallow every last bit of you until he never forgets the taste. But that would require he’d stop fucking his hot cock into your bloody, little pouch, and that won’t happen. He’s panting, sweat running down his back from the effort, and his groin starts to feel a little raw too. He might’ve been going for hours by now, licking your mouth clean from his drool only to dirty you again. The head of his cock feels fucked raw inside you, and his thighs shake before his shoulders square over you.

Megumi speeds up his pace fucking into your guts -actually- until he clenches every muscle, is overcome again and reaches heaven inside you, spurting creamy white into the pouch he’s created for himself; “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” his hand has to twist into an uncomfortable position to reach for your clit, but he wildly does it anyway— cramping up, until he’s collapsing on top of you and stilling inside. The stench of blood makes the entire room smell, as he thumbs over the side of your blood-coated thigh with one hand, and feels the shaking all the way up and down his spine. He pulls out so slowly, pumping the last bits of cum out with a throaty moan, before he slides off the table onto awfully shaky legs.

If he was any more lucid, he’d think twice before leaning by your side to kiss your eyes, your nose, your pouty lips as the tears that must’ve been building for a while run down your temple— and suppresses the need to actually eat you- for now, he rubs a softer hand over your exposed tummy, before folding the now blood-drenched fabric of your skirt back down to hide your puffy pussy, lest he be tempted again. He whispers his love into your ears, nuzzles at your hairline until the feeling comes back to his hands and feet and he tucks his spent cock back into his boxers, and goes about cleaning the mess he made of the floor.

It’s only when an uncomfortable scratchy sound comes that he notices the burning heat on his neck, the dried sweat painfully sticky— and straightens up beside you when you start to shake again. Immediately his worry is sky high. Even in the gross air of mixed blood and cum and the scent of sex soaking everything, his mind is just clear enough to hold your head when you thrash around a few times, and your chest rises wildly up and down. Then before his very eyes, the damage he’d done upon you slowly starts to stitch itself together, like weaving threads. Lacing you up until every bit of muscle, fat, and skin restores to it’s pristine glory before he ever touched you, with a little puff of cursed energy.

He bites his lip hard when the shaking stops, and your back lands back onto the metal with a soft clang. The noise is louder now it’s quiet in the room. Megumi waits for a bit longer before he brushes the hair from your face, and doesn't mind it that he’s leaving tracks. The darkness is filled with his tense breathing, and then — every sound at once. Your eyes shoot open with a cry, sobbing out like a baby for a few painful seconds. But then spot him thumbing your tears away devoted like he is -though he won’t admit it to you, and you let out a noise of pure relief.

It’s almost poetic, when you crash back into his arms and this time, he lets your arms wind around his waist.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

partition | miya atsumu

pairing: atsumu x f! reader

word count: 4.8k

summary: inspired by Beyoncé’s “Partition”! what starts off as a simple limo ride to a team dinner with atsumu soon turns into you not being able to keep your hands off of each other, looking so irresistible he just can’t help himself. 

warnings: smut, car sex, slight voyeurism, overstimulation, dumbification, rough sex, dacryphilia, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, daddy! kink, multiple orgasms, swearing, really nasty 

a/n: if you haven’t heard this song, please go listen to it first oh my god the lyrics hot as fuck. of course i had to write a dirty, filthy, smutty ass fic for this, and honestly i can completely see atsumu in this situation.

the click of your heels was sharp against the marble floor, making your way across your ridiculously large bathroom as you adjusted an earring. Atsumu had a team dinner tonight, meaning a long ride to an even longer dinner at whatever high end restaurant had been chosen for the occasion. being engaged to a professional volleyball player came with its share of events and all around tight schedules, but you wouldn’t trade him for the world. you had grown accustomed to nights like these, enjoying the company of his lively teammates and getting all dolled up to go out.

with one last glance into the full body mirror, smoothing down your sleek black dress, you stepped into your bedroom, Atsumu standing in front of a wall with a smaller mirror as he adjusted his tie. his mischievous gaze found your reflection, smirking as he took in the sight of you. a low whistle sounded throughout the room as he eyed you up and down, the dress hugging every curve and dip of your body. a simple dress, really, but severely overpriced. despite the cost it did look quite good though, or rather you made it look good.

“you look gorgeous, darlin’.” the nickname rolled off Atsumu’s tongue with a sultry bite, his naughty eyes practically undressing you right there. with a light chuckle you walked over to him, placing a hand on one of his broad shoulders, looking at the both of you in the mirror.

“thank you, Tsumu. we do look fucking good, don’t we?” his laugh was deep and amused as it rumbled out from his chest, eyes crinkling in agreement. hands still messing with his tie, Atsumu leaned over, teeth nipping at your earlobe. the light tug had chills tingling down your spine, but you kept your composure as you pushed him gently, muttering something about how he was taking his sweet time then going back to your closet to get a jacket before you left.

“where you goin, y/n?” he called teasingly, apparently not finished with his playful antics and suggestive smirks. “I wasn’t done lookin at you!”

Keep reading

being sakusa’s sweet, innocent leetle housewife, maybe you’re a bit younger than him too, to the point where the media points out the age diff 🥺 he loves how doting you are, always there to welcome him home with a hot meal and a clean house. all you know is taking care of omi, cleaning for omi, dressing up for omi 💘💘 but the people on the media are harsh and you’re nothing but a gold diggin whore!!! you bawl ur lil eyes out & sakusa decides to return the favor & take care of you! by stuffing u full and overstimming u until the only reason ur crying bc all this sensory overload 💘 maybe this will be the time he can finally fuck a baby in u too, u deserve a nice reward for being so good to him!

this is so cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺 omi be my hubby hours

nsfwish, fem reader, breeding

lately, he’s been coming back to sights like this.

you sniffling in bed, wrapped up in blankets as you scroll through your phone. he can’t help but sigh as he puts his gym bag down. “what is it?”

“it’s all these people, omi...” you put your phone down, tears in your eyes. “they all think i’m just a gold digging wh- whore...”

would a gold digging whore stutter the word?

“oh, baby...” he sits down next to you. “they don’t know anything about us, and you know that. don’t listen to them.”

“i know, omi...” you wipe at your eyes. “i know you must be getting tired from me crying about this all the time. it just really hurts my feelings.”

he clicks his tongue and brings you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “you shouldn’t let it get to you. you’re perfect.”

“i’m--”

his lips trail down, until he’s peppering kisses on your face. you giggle a bit.

“listen, you’re the perfect wife.” he places a kiss under your jaw. “you always take care of the house, of me... always look so pretty in your dresses...”

“that you buy for me...”

“it’s just because i like how they look on you.” he trails his lips down your arm, ending with a kiss on your hand. “but i’ll be honest, i think what’s underneath the dress it a lot prettier.”

“omi...” you gasp as he pulls at the shirt you’re wearing (which is his). 

“you do so much for me...” he pulls it up to reveal your chest. “i want to give you what you want most of all... i know you must be lonely in this house when i’m gone... i think you need a baby.”

“a baby?” you smile.

“mhm...” he wipes the stray tears off your cheeks. “i think you’d make a good mom.”

“oh, omi...”

he kisses you, pushing you back on the bed so he can fit between your legs which you so easily spread for him. 

“if a baby’s what you want...” he grunts as he grinds his hips down. “then that’s what i’ll give you.”

“oh, thank you omi, thank you. i want your baby, omi.”

you always know how to make him happy.

“wai—wait, no tongue rinnie, i dunno—“

“relax,” suna mumbles against your lips, pressing a soft kiss against your bottom lip. “i’ll teach you, don’t worry.” you whine, embarrassed that he may find your inexperience to be a turn off. “just follow through with m’tongue okay?”

“mhmn..” you mumble, gasping when he presses his swollen lips onto yours once again. he presses himself further into your body, your legs enveloping around his waist and tugging him in. you shiver, mouth gaping wider on instinct when you feel his silky tongue slip in between your lips, running itself over yours.

it’s so fucking wet, and so hot, you can taste his sweet spit on your tongue. it makes you ache everywhere, body sparked with excitement yet nervousness. “c’mon, try.” he groans against you, letting your tongue nervously glide against his on command. he lets out a guttural groan, grinding unconsciously into your thigh, mumbling a half coherent apology before he slips his tongue back into your mouth.

he runs the hot muscle over yours, curling over and around it with messy spit beginning to coat your lips. he doesn’t slow despite your tongue faltering and clearly weakening with every stroke of his tongue against yours. “y’r so weak baby.” he chuckles, pulling away slightly.

both of your breaths are labored, your softened eyes meet his , filled with so much love that they sparkle under the dim light. his pupils seem to dialate over and over, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight.

you can still feel the heat of his breath against your lips, one of his hands with a tight hold against your waist, and one sprawled across your shoulder — holding you still. it’s all so intimate, and all so new.

“can we d—do it again? wanna try again..” you quip, cheeks flushing at the dumb, dumb question.

as if he would say no.

Title: Going Live.

Pairing: Yandere!Nanami x Reader (JJK)

Word Count: 7.6k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Camgirl!Reader, Kidnapping, Physical Intimidation, Long-Term Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Delusional Behavior, Slight Exhibitionism, and Panic Attacks + Disassociation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were a lot of things to Nanami Kento – his world, his light, his love – but above all else, you were the reason he looked forward to getting home.

Calling it ‘infatuation’ would’ve been a disservice to the depth of his feelings for you. It’d been love at first sight; instant and wholehearted, a shackle snapped shut around his neck that he had no will or desire to escape. His eyes were on his watch as soon as he crossed the threshold, his coat shrugged off and abandoned along with his tie in the doorway. He didn’t bother turning on lights or taking off his shoes, doing anything to make his empty apartment seem more lived-in, his focus solely dedicated to reaching his home office with as few disruptions as was possible, with Gojo and the higher-ups still attempting to contact him about the curse he’d finished exorcising less than an hour prior. They could wait. You wouldn’t.

He was smiling by the time he collapsed into the leather-cushioned chair, his laptop still on his desk from the night before – the last time he got to see you. The motions were automatic, practiced to the point of reflexivity. One hand glided over the keyboard while the other found his phone, silencing it in the same motion as he tossed it haphazardly onto the desk, out of his view. He checked his watch one more time; 6:59. Good. He was early.

His grin brightened, as did his laptop. Your stream flickered to life a second later and with it, your smiling face. The relief was instant, pure warmth accompanying it. The bittersweet tinge – as subtle as it was prodding – came only a moment later, but Nanami did his best to ignore it.

You were the sole reason Nanami Kento looked forward to getting home. The center of his world, the sole light in his otherwise bleak life. The person he loved more than anything, more than everything.

It was only a shame, then, that you had no idea he existed.

One of his favorite things about you had always been your meticulousness. For tonight’s show, you were splayed out across the foot of a queen-sized bed, surrounded by pastel pink satin sheets and a fleece comforter of the same shade, a matching dormant hitachi vibrator (Nanami’s favorite and, guessing from how often it made an appearance in your shows, yours too) nestled between your thighs. Your outfit was aesthetically pleasing – a set of lacey, baby blue lingerie with white, knee socks – but paired with your set up, casual enough to give the impression that you hadn’t realized the camera you were posing in front of was actually on, as if you weren’t entirely prepared to be seen by a thousand or so strangers just yet. The fact that you didn’t start talking right away, only humming as you idly toyed with your hair, only added to the nonchalance of it all. You would make a good actress, if you ever decided to pursue something more, for lack of a more applicable phrase, legitimate.

Nanami’s attention drifted from you to your chat, slowly starting to fill with impatient viewers. Despite himself, he felt his absentminded smile waver, an irk of irritation momentarily tainting his bliss. He knew you weren’t entirely real, that he didn’t have any right to be possessive over a performer, but he loved you. It would’ve been difficult for anyone to watch someone they loved be exposed to so many prying eyes.

user34333: fuck she’s hot

hotbox420: looking good y/n!!!

lostandconfused: why does she still have her clothes on?

 The only silver lining was how oblivious you seemed to it. Another minute passed before you straightened, yawning slightly as you pushed yourself up, legs hanging over the foot of your bed. “Welcome home,” you started, with a quick stretch and a playful wave towards the camera. “Everyone’s already put the kids to bed, right? I’ve got a very special surprise I want to bring out a little later, so nobody’s allowed to leave early.”

Your tone was light, melodic, saccharine. Already, Nanami could feel his cock beginning to harden against his thigh, straining at the material of his pants. You were always mobile during your shows, prone to flitting from one position to another, but tonight, you almost seemed antsy as you pulled your legs back onto the mattress, tucking your knees underneath you and bowing your head, your neutral smile taking on a shy undertone. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” you admitted, speaking quickly enough for the words to blend together. Then, with more composure, “Who wants to get us started?”

Nanami’s hand was already on his keyboard, waiting for your cue. Somehow, he was still too late.

blueeyeswhitedragon sent 150 credits!

blueeyeswhitedragon: Bra first, pretty please.

You giggled as you raised your hands, leaning forward to give the camera a better view of your chest as you undid the clasp at the nape of your neck. Nanami’s breath hitched as the thin fabric fell away, revealing the soft curves of your breasts and your pretty, perfect nipples – already hard, already enough to make saliva pool underneath his tongue. The lower clasp was next, undone with more effort and more bouncing than what seemed absolutely necessary, but Nanami couldn’t complain, not when he was struggling to undo the fly of his dress pants without ever looking away from you. There was another giggle as the article fell away entirely, then a third as you cupped your chest with both hands, groping gently. “I used to be so shy about taking my top off on camera…” You trailed off, batting your eyes. “But, you guys think I’m pretty, right?”

Your requested affirmations flooded the chat in an instant. Nanami grinned, slumping back in his chair. He could compliment any part of you earnestly, but aside from donations, he rarely let himself participate in your chat. Speaking to you so openly, being one of a dozen people whose username you’d glance over in a second – that wasn’t what he wanted. Anonymous adoration wasn’t the shape his affection took.

Eventually, you collapsed back onto your bed. “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you went on, as Nanami wrapped a fist around the base of his cock. “What next?”

There was another offer – 300 credits for your panties, 400 if you took them off with your back to the camera. You obliged, bent at the waist, inching the silken fabric down your thighs at an almost sadistic pace. After you finished, you seemed ready to move onto the main show, but another donation cropped up in your chat.

user34232 sent 75 credits!

user34232: for the socks pls

That, as far as Nanami could tell, seemed to catch you genuinely off-guard. He could see you blushing as you leaned towards the camera – or, he supposed, the laptop you had positioned underneath it, as if you’d misread something. “…my socks?”

Nanami stifled a grown, tightening his hold. With his free hand, he reached for the keyboard,

n. kento sent 200 credits!

n. kento: Don’t take them off.

You played your part perfectly, sighing as you let your head lull to the side. All it took was you batting your eye lashes while letting out the sweetest murmur of “Well, I don’t know if that’s fair, but…” for your chat to dissolve into a bidding war, donations ranging from five credits to five hundred. If you were making any earnest attempt to keep track of which side was winning, you clearly had no motivation to call it too early on – pulling your legs onto your bed and kicking your feet out playfully towards the camera. “Some of you guys ask for such weird stuff,” you went on, rolling your left ankle. “If someone doesn’t tell me what to do soon, I think I’m just going to have to change into another outfit.”

Nanami let out a breath of a chuckle, only half aware he was typing.

n. kento sent 1,750 credits!

n. kento: You look beautiful. Keep them on.

You laughed, and this time, Nanami chose to believe it was sincere. “I get it! We’ll move on.” You were already leaning back, rolling onto your stomach, giving your viewers a perfect view of your ass as you reached for something off-screen. “Normally I’d ask for a suggestion,” you said, as you brought what you’d retrieved back into frame – a pale pink rabbit vibrator, the penetrative half of the forked wand ribbed. “But I have something I’m kind of looking forward to. I promise, I’ll try to get past the boring stuff quickly.”

You thought too little of yourself. Arousal drooled from Nanami’s flushed tip as you positioned yourself on the edge of the mattress, legs spread wide and slick, glistening pussy fully on display. You were already wet, but he knew you would be. It was something you joked about often – how sensitive you were, how something as minor as a wet dream would have you soaking through your panties. Normally, he would’ve figured you were just playing it up for the sake of your viewers, but it was hard to deny the evidence in front of him.

A whimper slipped past your parted lips as you eased the head of the toy past your entrance, stretching yourself out on its bulbed tip. Now, now, he started to move his hand, pumping his fist over the length of his shaft in short, slow strokes, matching your tempo as you rocked your toy into your pussy. A dull hum fills the room as your thumb finds the switch built into the handle’s underside, and your expression immediately goes from dazed to pained, your tongue peaking out from between your lips and your eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked against the vibrator. “It—It feels—” Your thighs threaten to twitch shut, but you hold them open, determined to give your audience the best possible view of your pussy clenching around your toy. “I really—I wanna get some bondage gear soon, so that I can—”

Whatever you might’ve said was replaced by a bubbling moan, and just like that, Nanami was fucking his fist without restraint. He knew how pathetic it was, but it would’ve been impossible not to imagine it was his cock sinking into your dripping cunt rather than an inanimate toy, not to wish it was your pussy clamping down around his length rather than his own fist. He wondered what you smelled like, if you wore perfume, what it would be like to have his face buried between your thighs. He was aware, vaguely, that your chat was the most active it’d been all night, people trying to catch your attention with donations and tips and compliments, but they didn’t matter. They weren’t watching you, not really, not the same way Nanami was. He knew you, well enough to know that you couldn’t think once something had been stuffed inside of your cunt. He loved you, enough to wish he was the one making your mind go so euphorically blank.

There was more moaning, more failed attempts to speak, but you didn’t let yourself cum. You were visibly trembling by the time you switched the toy off, and it took agonizing seconds to ease the wand out of your disappointed pussy – seconds Nanami watched with rapt devotion. More out of sympathy than anything else, he lets go of his cock entirely, gritting his teeth and attempting to ignore the pulsing ache forming in the pit of his stomach. What was next was better. What was next was worth waiting for.

You took a few panting breaths, your voice still airy by the time you managed to speak. “I have a—” You paused, grinned. Nanami smiled too. “I have a surprise for all of you, tonight. I think I mentioned that already, but— oh, right.” You perked up, playing excited. “We have to move to the floor, for this next part.”

You slipped off-screen, and a second later, the camera shifted to follow you – falling onto a corner of your room less staged than your bed, but just as pristine. Abstract, pastel tapestries obscured the walls, but the dark floorboards were left bare. On one side, most of a dog kennel was visible, decorated with string lights and clearly meant for one of your more niche shows, and on the other, he could make out the bottom corner of a poster – not for anything kinky, or sensual, or in any way suggestive, but an underground band, a local band. You probably hadn’t realized it was in the shot, let alone meant for it to be. You were usually more careful about giving away anything even remotely personal, but Nanami couldn’t be mad.

After all, it’d been that poster that’d let him find you.

He could still remember the first time he ever saw you – actually saw you, not through a screen, but in person. After he knew that you lived in the same city as him (the same district, even), it’d only taken a few more days to find your name, your age, your address. Still, he put off visiting you for weeks, telling himself that it didn’t matter, that you wouldn’t recognize him, that you wouldn’t want to see him. And, in the end, you hadn’t seen him at all – you hadn’t needed to.

That night, he’d watched your show from the rooftop of the building opposite of yours, straining to see you through a bedroom window left carelessly open. Even now, the guilt was almost tangibly agonizing, the shame practically unbearable.

Almost as unbearable as the temptation to go back.

But, that part would come soon enough. You were on screen, again, holding something he recognized.

“I have some exciting news,” you chirped, as you kneeled on the floor, holding a pitch-black dildo, a suction cup attached to the base. Despite its color, Nanami could make out defined veins running down the silicone shaft, a noticeable girth to the base. A perfect mirror of the cock currently pulsing for attention in his lap.

He felt himself grinning, as you went on. “I got my first real fan gift!” You held up the toy to your cheek, like a child showing off their first stuffed animal, before planting it on the floor between your thighs. “It’s so big, too,” you said, showing off its size, where the blunt tip rested well above your navel. “Everyone say thank you, Daddy Kento!”

Your chat was instantly flooded with predictable responses, but Nanami couldn’t look away from you. You were enjoying yourself, clearly. You must’ve thought you were so smart, renting out a P. O. box, going on and on about how grateful you were to your dedicated fans when he reached out to ask if you accepted physical donations, and you were smart. It was only a shame that Nanami loved you enough to look past all of your attempts to keep him away.

As you began to move onto your knees, he allowed himself one more intervention.

n. kento sent 3,000 credits!

n. kento: Take it to the hilt.

It was cruder than he usually cared to be, but as your eyes flickered towards your monitor, your lips quirked into a slight smile. You didn’t respond verbally, but you nodded, and sunk down onto his cock.

Immediately, his hand wasn’t enough, but he tried to make do – matching your agonizingly slow pace, imagining what it would feel like to have you lower yourself down onto his real cock, rather than a cheap imitation. Trails of iridescent slick dripped down the dark silicone, your camera positioned strategically to catch every bounce of your breasts as your breathing hitched, to provide the optimal view of your pussy stretching around the tip, then the head, then the shaft as you lowered yourself slowly. “It—It’s so big,” you repeated, bringing a hand up to your stomach while the other remained on the floor, keeping you stable. “I mean, I knew it would be, but—fuck—” Another inch, Nanami’s fist moving over the same part of his cock. You let out an airy laugh. “Just be thankful I’m so tough.”

“I am,” Nanami muttered, his voice echoing off the bare walls of his office. “You’re perfect.”

“I really wanna cum on this one, too – to, like, christen it, or something. Been keeping myself pent up all day for it.” With a pitchy keen, you brought yourself a few inches higher, then dropped. Your free hand shot away from your stomach and back to the floor as you continued to bounce on the toy’s length, getting just a little deeper each time. “Welcome it to family, y’know? Maybe make it a regular, for you sadists out there.”

Nanami stiffened at the thought of you fucking yourself on a replica of his cock in front of thousands of people twice a week; drooling and panting as you told your viewers how big he was, how good he felt inside of you. With his restraint brought to its limits, he fucked his fist carelessly, his attention fixed on the steady movements of your hips as you rode his toy. Your eyes didn’t flutter closed, this time – they clenched shut, and you couldn’t seem to keep your voice under control, little mewls and half-conscious whines bubbling up from your chest as you struggled to take that much more of him with every thrust. When you did manage to speak, your voice was uneven, whiney, so sweet it made him want to dig his teeth into something and tear. “I’m so close,” and then, as you brought yourself back down, so close to bottoming out, “I wanna cum!”

“You will,” Nanami whispered. He knew you couldn’t hear him, but it was true – you would, and if he’d been able to, he would’ve made you. He would’ve let you fuck yourself on his cock whenever you asked, would’ve woken you up every morning coming undone on his tongue and made sure you fell asleep with his cock buried inside of you. If you were with him, you’d never have to think again, never have to feel anything but pleasure – any time you wanted it, every time you wanted it. He’d make sure—

You didn’t moan as you reached the toy’s base, you screamed. One of your hands moved to the space between your thighs, two fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit as you nursed yourself through your orgasm. Nanami didn’t stand a chance, still chasing his fantasies as he spilled over his hand; searing hot cum pooling on his lap, soaking into the material of his shirt, spilling onto his desk. He didn’t stop moving his hand, though, not until you went limp – bending at the waist, bracing yourself on the floor. Finally, you managed to raise your head, flashing that brilliant smile towards the camera. Of course, Nanami smiled back.

In a daze, he watched you ease yourself off of the toy and wrap up your stream, so familiar from your script that he would’ve been able to recite it with confidence. Even after you signed off, the screen going black, he didn’t move, only letting his head roll to the side with a shallow sigh.

It was pathetic, just how much he loved you. It was painful, being so far from someone who made him feel so irrationally happy.

He could only count the days until he wouldn’t have to limit himself to only watching from a distance any longer.

~

There was a man in your apartment.

A man you didn’t want to be in your apartment, just to be clear. You’d heard the front door open, seen a bulky silhouette moving through your living room, and now, you were listening to him riffle through your bedroom as you hid in the en suite bathroom – crouched in the smallest corner you could find with both hands locked over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound of your own breathing. The door was locked, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want to find out how much a thin sheet of wood would do to protect you. You didn’t want to give him a reason to acknowledge you at all.

As far as you could tell, there was only one intruder. You could only hear one pair of muffled footsteps, with second-long gaps between every little movement. The air caught in your throat as you heard him edge closer, closer, then pause. There was a dull clack, the sound of metal clashing against plastic, and you relaxed, sighing into your palms. Your filming equipment. It was expensive, but nothing you couldn’t replace. If you were lucky, he’d take what he could carry and leave.

And that was what he seemed to be doing, too – more rustling interrupted every so often by a few moments of heart-wrenching silence. Soon enough, you heard the intruder start to move again, his footsteps edging closer to the bathroom door as he moved to leave your bedroom entirely, and—

“(Y/n)?”

Fuck.

You didn’t say anything, holding your breath and digging your nails into your cheeks, willing yourself not to move, not to think. You didn’t make a sound, you couldn’t have, and yet he kept talking.

“I know you’re in there. Please, come out.”

He couldn’t know. He couldn’t know. You’d kept the lights off, and you hadn’t moved in minutes, and—

He tried the knob, and something cracked deep inside of your chest. There was an airy sigh, then a dull thud, like he was leaning against the door frame. “Please,” he repeated, sounding more exasperated than angry. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Y-you can take whatever you want,” you stuttered, your voice unsteady, just a touch louder than it really had to be. That was fine. You didn’t have to pretend to be brave, so long as you made it out of this alive and uninjured. “I won’t call the police – I can’t call the police, I left my phone in the kitchen. You can take it, too. I… I don’t have a lot of cash, but my camera, it should be worth—”

“I don’t want your camera, love.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he sounded wistful. “Come out, or I’ll break down the door.”

Honestly, it hadn’t occurred to you that he could.

It took a second to pry your hands off of your face, and another to push yourself to your feet – your legs shaking as you struggled to stand. Almost mechanically, you moved towards the door; unlocking it in the same motion as you pulled it open. Light from your bedroom spilled into the entryway, revealing—

God.

He was taller than you’d expected him to be.

Six feet at least, with a build to match. The sleeves of his dress-shirt were rolled up to his elbow, showing off arms so muscular, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d planned to tear your door off its hinges with his bare hands. He had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, visibly full, but you could still see your equipment standing untouched behind him, and you couldn’t imagine anything else he would’ve wanted to take. His blonde hair was swept back, out of his eyes, and he was holding a butcher’s knife in his right hand, the blade wrapped in leopard-spotted fabric. Surprisingly, though, his weapon wasn’t what concerned you the most.

He was smiling. No, actually, that wasn’t right.

He was beaming.

“(Y/n),” he said, again. You didn’t let yourself wonder why he knew your name. “I—I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself earlier. I might’ve gotten a little carried away – I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“…it’s okay,” you managed, your voice barely audible. “Are you going to kill me?”

His expression dropped. “No. Of course not.” And then, after a brief lapse, “I’d never hurt you. I…” You saw his right hand flex around the grip of his knife, and thought you might black out. “I’m a fan.”

Instantly, you felt the blood freeze in your veins.

Fuck. Fuck.

You knew you should’ve gone into accounting.

“I… You’re a fan?” You tried to smile, but it might’ve come across more pained than relieved. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to meeting people who’ve caught my stream. Should I know what to call you?”

And just like that, his grin was back, any momentary tension assayed. You wished he would’ve put down the knife, too, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Kento,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed the pink hue creeping over his cheeks. “Nanami Kento.”

You grit your teeth as you struggled to place him. After a second, it came to you.

Kento. Right. The dildo guy.

Somehow, knowledge provided little comfort. Still, you soldiered on. “It’s really nice to meet you, Nanami.” You clasped your hands behind your back, rocking gently on your heels. “I—I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting any guests. If you want to step out for a couple minutes, I can change into something more comfortable, and show you how appreciative I am for your—”

“I’m not an idiot.” He cut you off, still grinning. “You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t let your smile waver, either. “And, if I didn’t want to go with you…?”

 “I’m afraid this isn’t about what you want, anymore.”

You meant to say something – opened your mouth and everything – but nothing came out. Your heart tightened in your chest, a not inconsiderable portion of your mind screaming for you to run, run, run. And yet, when he took you by the wrist in a feather-light hold, leading you through your own apartment and out into the hall, it was all you could do to smile and follow after him.

~

The first thirty minutes of the car ride passed in silence. Nanami – because you couldn’t stand to keep thinking of him as ‘that guy who bought you a dildo shaped like his own dick and paid you thousands of dollars to ride it live on stream’ – kept his knife in his lap, his hand falling away from the wheel and onto its hilt whenever you so much as took a deep breath. Eventually, your eyes fell to the clock built into his dashboard, and you broke through your paralysis with a nervous laugh.

“It’s a little funny,” you started, for lack of anything else to do. “I’d actually normally be getting ready for my stream, around now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him swallow, his jaw tensing. “I know.”

Great. Okay. Whatever. “I don’t mind, y’know,” you managed, before you could let yourself fully consider what you were going to say. “If it means we don’t have to go through with the whole kidnapping thing, I really wouldn’t mind sleeping with you – you can even take pictures, if you’d like that, or record, whichever you’d prefer.”

“That’s not what I—”

“I haven’t tried a lot of hardcore stuff, but I wouldn’t mind if that’s what you’re into. We don’t even have to go back to my apartment, you could just pull over, and—”

“That’s not what I’m interested in.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone left no room for protest. “I’m not going to… I’m not going to just fuck you once and leave you by the side of the road. I’m doing this for your sake.”

As if you’d willingly climbed into a maniac’s car. “I… I’m not following, Kento.”

“It’s for your own protection. Once I thought to look, it took me hours to find out everything about you.” He spared you a quick glance, that same uncanny smile. One of his hands left the wheel and, rather than moving to his knife, found your knee, squeezing gently. It took everything you had not to scream. “Imagine what someone could do with that kind of information. They could blackmail you, if they found your full name, or track you down if they pieced together your address. It’d be a miracle if they were only a stalker. It just wasn’t safe to let you keep going on that way.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. “They could even break into my apartment and abduct me at knifepoint.”

His gaze narrowed, but his smile only softened. Neither of you spoke for the rest of the journey.

After far too long and not nearly long enough, you reached your destination: a housing complex, leagues nicer (and more expensive) than your own rundown building. Calling them apartments would’ve been a disservice; they were more similar to free-standing condos, or miniature villas slotted just outside of the city’s more metropolitan districts. Without a word, you let him guide you into a relatively generic home, its only notable feature being the absolute lack of evidence of meaningful life within it. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a rental, leased exclusively to give him someplace to do… well, whatever he planned to do to you. It’d be more off-putting to know that someone actually lived someplace so vacant.

He led you through the empty halls and up a flight of stairs, keeping you in front of him and in his line of sight at all times. Finally, you reached the door he seemed to be looking for and, with a nod by way of instruction, let yourself inside.

Before you stood, puzzlingly, your own bedroom.

Or – the parts of it you could make out on camera, at least. The bed was the same size, the same model, made with the same sheets and littered with the same pillows, but the floor was covered in a harsh white carpeting, the surrounding walls soundproofed with suffocating black foam. Camera equipment identical to your own had been set-up at the foot of your bed, but an unfamiliar silver laptop replaced your own sticker-covered monstrosity. You didn’t see any chains, whips, or shock collars, which was good. You still didn’t know what the fuck was going on, which was bad.

Confused, you turned to Nanami as he crossed the threshold and rather conservatively, shut and locked the door. “There are clothes on the bed,” he explained, with a tone that made it difficult to tell whether or not he knew how weird this was. “A script, too. Memorize as much as you can.”

So he still expected you to stream. Or, that was what you hoped, at least – considering the only alternative was that he was planning to make an extremely elaborate snuff film. “I’m not used to using scripts.”

“You’ll manage.”

You didn’t bother trying to argue, only moving towards the bed and attempting to forget he was there entirely.

The ‘clothes’ he’d left for you turned out to be lingerie – the nice stuff, too, white and lacey and bridal with a babydoll cut. You glanced over his script (which, disturbingly, didn’t exactly not sound like you) as you got dressed and fixed your hair, doing the best you could without any of your usual supplies. You wouldn’t be able to reapply your make-up, but you’d put some on earlier, and—

You almost laughed at yourself, stifling a chuckle.

You’d been kidnapped, and you were worried about your make-up. If you got out of this alive, you swore, you’d never touch foundation or a ring light or a camera ever again.

He didn’t have to tell you when it was time – you would’ve known by instinct alone. With Namami watching from an armchair pushed against the opposite wall, you clambered onto the bed and took your usual position, kneeling in center frame. He’d never asked for your credentials, and yet, when you glanced towards the laptop positioned just underneath the main camera, you found that your own profile was already pulled up, a miniature timer in the corner of the screen counting down the seconds until you went live.

As it reached thirty seconds ‘till, it occurred to you that you were in a soundproof room alone with the man who’d kidnapped you and was currently holding you hostage, and that no one could’ve possibly known where you were or, more importantly, who you’d been taken by.

As it reached fifteen, you realized you were being held captive and being forced to wear bridal lingerie that your kidnapped must’ve picked out with the occasion in mind.

As it reached five, for the first time that day, you thought you might actually start to cry.

And, as it reached zero, you put on your biggest, brightest smile and hoped beyond hope that you’d stop thinking entirely, eventually.

“Welcome home!” Skipping over your normal grace period only felt right. You didn’t think you’d be able to survive sitting in silent, motionless suspension for another second, let alone a full minute. “Sorry if I seem a little nervous tonight – to tell the truth, I kind of am. I’ve got a major announcement, and I just can’t put it off any longer.”

Reflexively, your attention drifted first to your own feed – you looked perfect, as always – then to your chat, moving quickly despite your sudden start. You caught a few of the longer messages in your peripheral.

secretary.lover: Is it just me, or does she seem kind scared lmao?

blueeyeswhitedragon: yeahhh i thought her room looked kinda weird too lol

justheretowatch: fuck ur pretty

rapidfire: let me guess, another fake dick?

“I know I probably should’ve given you guys more of a warning,” you went on, fighting the temptation to break, to yell for them to call the police, to give up entirely and make a run for it. “But…”  

You forced yourself to laugh, to beam, to clap your hands together in front of your chest like a schoolgirl – excited to tell her friends that she’d gone through with her first ever confession. “I’m getting married!”

You didn’t have a ring to show off, but you tried your best to preen regardless, to not let any amount of fear or discomfort or hesitation show on your shining expression. After a show delay, congratulations and well-wishes filled your chat (some genuine, others more reluctant), and you did your best to go on without letting the sizable knot slowly gaining mass in the back of your throat smother your voice entirely. “This is going to be my last stream – for a while, at least, until we get settled in. And…”

You tried to remember what’d been listed next in Nanami’s script, but your conscious mind was bogged down by a thick layer of buzzing static, your sense of improvisation dulled by a heavy dose of anxiety. Your eyes flickered to where Nanami was sitting behind your equipment, only to find that the chair he’d formerly occupied empty. You didn’t have time to panic before the edge of the mattress dipped under a new weight, and you remembered what you were supposed to say. “My husband actually wanted to cameo on my send-off show. I was a little hesitant—” Another dip in the mattress, this one much closer than the last. “—but he insisted. I thought you all deserved a chance to meet him, too.”

As soon as you finished, you felt a large hand on your shoulder, a sudden presence at your back. Your gaze fell back to your feed, your own image now accompanied by that of your captor – on his knees behind you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, the framing positioned so that his head was cut off just above the mouth. The lower half of his face was covered with a black surgical mask, and you had to stop yourself from frowning. You hadn’t expected him to be stupid enough to show his face on camera, but still.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you felt his hand fall away from your shoulder, slipping underneath the lace camisole of your babydoll. You tried not to move, not to flinch, but you couldn’t stop yourself from jerking forward as you felt his hand slip under your bralette, the angular ridges of his knuckles visible through the thin silk. Despite everything he’d said about not hurting you, about doing this for your protection, he made no attempt to be gentle – the calloused pads of his fingers pressing into the curve of your breast with enough force to bruise. You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sincere reaction. If you wanted to go home, you had to put up with this. He’d never said anything about pretending to enjoy it.

(In the back of your mind, you knew he hadn’t said anything about letting you go home, either. Still, you didn’t let yourself dwell on such discontinuities).

 You should’ve known better than to think he’d attempt to follow the normal flow of your stream, and yet, it still caught you off-guard when his unoccupied hand found its way to the waistband of your panties, then to your clothed sex. You weren’t overly sensitive, despite how you might’ve acted in front of your viewers, but you were still on edge, still panicked, and while the adrenaline being held at knifepoint might’ve sparked was beginning to fade, having your kidnapper grope you on camera was enough to bring on a fresh wave. Reflexively, you pressed your back into his broad chest as his thumb traced over the length of your slit, pausing only momentarily to press into your clit with a dull, oppressive sort of pressure, biting down on your bottom lips to stop anything vulnerable and pathetic from escaping. If Nanami was affected by your stoicism, it wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling the flimsy material to the side entirely and slipping two fingers into you, your now-slick cunt providing humiliatingly easy access. In the same motion, the heel of his palm pressed into your clit, the friction immediately too harsh, too much. It would’ve been too much if he wasn’t touching you at all. It would’ve been too much if he was still sitting alone in his dark, empty house – getting off to the idea of degrading someone he claimed to care about so publicly.

It didn’t help that you were wet. Not dripping, sure, but wet enough for there to be an audible, slick clicking-type noise as he pumped his digits into you, never taking the pressure off of your clit. You could feel his cock pressed into your ass, already hard, already too familiar not to be nauseating, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush to move past your exhibition; his pace measured and experimental, his fingers prone to spreading apart and curling inside of you. To distract yourself, you moved your attention back to your chat, trying to pick out the longer messages between donation notifications.

user84343: girl i call dibs when you’re done with him

hotbox420: no seriously y/n are you okay???

bunnygirl69: still can’t believe you’re leaving us for him </3 can’t say i don’t see why tho ToT

absolutely.soaked: Blink twice if you’re in danger lmaoooo

“G-guys, I’m totally—” Your breath hitched as he forced another finger into you, the stretch now a touch past ignorable. His other hand kneaded at your chest, blunt nails scraping against tender flesh, and momentarily, you wondered if it really would’ve been so bad to take your chances and let him kill you right away. “I’m totally fine, I’m just—” His nails bit into your skin by way of warning, and you allowed yourself a single, stilted moan. “I’m just so happy that I finally get to—to—”

You didn’t know what you were supposed to say, but it didn’t matter. Nanami’s hand dropped from your chest to your side, his arm locking over your midriff and hauling you that much closer. You couldn’t stop yourself this time – whimpering as the tempo of his fingers sped up, as tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes. You glanced around the bedroom, searching for anything familiar, anything you could use to stabilize yourself, anything that you could start to find comforting. Instead, your eyes landed on the duffle bag he’d carried out of your apartment, the zipper now partially undone. You couldn’t see much, but you could make out the handle of a pink hitachi. It wasn’t difficult to guess what the rest of the bag’s contents looked like, what he’d spent so long riffling through your possessions to find.

It wouldn’t been pointless to try and hold back the crooked, ebbing sob that leaked past your lips. This time, when you turned to face your camera, it was with tears just beginning to spill and absolute terror written across your expression. “Call the police,” you managed to spit out, making no attempt to be subtle. “I—I don’t actually know this man, and this isn’t my apartment, and—“

It happened too quickly – like he’d been expecting you to do something so obviously short-sighted. You processed that he was pulling out of your cunt as you felt his fingers entangle themselves in your hair, and then your face was being shoved against the mattress, your body folding over itself as he forced you down. You tried to yell, tried to scream, but your voice was muffled by your own fucking comforter as you heard fabric shifting behind you, as you felt something warm and stiff and leaking align with your entrance. You refused to put a name to it, but that didn’t help. Nothing would’ve helped.

His palm pressed into the back of your head, his body slotting against yours as he leaned down, lowering his head so that he could speak directly into your ear. “I’m doing this for your own good,” he whispered, his voice muffled but still painfully audible. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

You didn’t have a chance to response. He was already inside of you – his cock filling you to your breaking point.

You weren’t sure if your viewers could hear you, but you hoped they could. It would’ve been a pity to sob so loudly for the sole entertainment of the sick, sick man currently rutting into you, grinding into your cunt from behind with a kind of animalistic desperation – all desire and no control. It was a struggle to stay on your knees, not to go entirely limp underneath him, but you doubted it would’ve made a difference if you hadn’t, that he wouldn’t have fucked your limp body just as enthusiastically. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely see the monitor – the miniature image of Nanami’s body moving on top of yours, his blond hair still obscuring the other half of his face, and then next to it, your chat. If you’d been thinking more clearly, you wouldn’t have let yourself look, wouldn’t have let yourself fully acknowledge that there were still thousands of people watching you, but you weren’t thinking at all, and you would’ve given anything for someone to say something that made you forget where you were, just for a second.

sniper727: so the bitch likes it rough? hot

callmeanonymous: FINALLY!!! I’ve been waiting for some cnc rp for actual years.

blueeyeswhitedragon: hey i think i might work with that guy

hotbox420: yeah no i’m calling the cops.

Predictably, your efforts were grotesquely unsuccessful.

Nanami didn’t seem as bothered. The weight on the back of your head disappeared as his hands found your hips, pulling up as he straightened his back. For anyone else, it might’ve been an awkward position – holding up your uncooperative form while bouncing you on his cock  – but no amount of unpleasant technicalities could’ve stopped him from burying himself to hilt with every stroke, keeping you in a constant state of mind-numbing fullness. You tried to talk, again, to call for help, but fractured mewls and pathetic whines drowned out whatever you might’ve said, and even those were put to an end as Nanami took you by the jaw, turning you to face him as his lips crashed into your – his mask either pulled down or discarded entirely, you couldn’t be bothered to check. The kiss itself was messy, rough, brutal, his tongue raking over yours as you sobbed unabashedly into his mouth – your connection only growing more chaotic as his hand once again found your clit and ground two fingers into the sensitive bundle of nerves. You knew what he wanted. You knew what he was trying to do.

And you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

With a ragged sob, you came undone around his cock, any strength you might’ve once had flooding out of your body and dripping down his shaft. Nanami groaned into your mouth, drawing back just far enough to bury his face in your neck and mouth meaningless nothings into your throat as he chased his own climax. He thrusted into you again once, twice, and then you felt pure heat pour into you – a new kind of torture that rendered you entirely senseless. You didn’t try to scream, again.

You were distantly aware of him moving, shifting, pulling something out of his pocket as he muttered a mix of ‘you did so well’s and ‘I love you’s into your skin. When you did finally manage to raise your head, you didn’t think to look toward the remote in his hand or your tattered lingerie or the cum slowly leaking out of your entrance. Rather, your attention landed on the same thing it always did during your streams – your monitor.

You’d never know why, but for whatever reason, you could feel your heart break in your chest as you realized that the screen had already gone black.

I wonder if you know how they live in Tokyo