#cw: dark content

[kneelingshadowsalome]

prefacing this by saying I have absolutely no information on this period of history, but Rome was sacked and ultimately destroyed by Germanic tribes.

And naturally, the first thing I thought of upon learning that was Invader!König X Roman Maiden!Reader. Similar to your story, I’m thinking he decides to take the Reader as a trophy of war similar to his comrades. You and plenty of other maidens are tied up, thrown across horseback or across shoulders, and dragged off back to Germania. Depending on how dark you want it, König could wait for his little prize to want his cock, or he could have no patience at all and fuck her as soon as he gets a chance. Of course, he’s still somewhat of a gentleman, he’ll make sure she enjoys it, but like it or not his cock’s going in her.

I think this is an opportunity to lean even further into the barbarian König idea, with varying levels of darkness.

Save me dark barbarian!König... 🖤💋

CW: dark content, noncon groping, noncon cuddling, fear of SA, König's idea of hot sex is problematic to say the least, reader's level of enthusiasm/consent is ambiguous

He doesn’t care about your delicate sensibilities or noble background, he’s here to bring your Empire down and your weak men to their knees. It’s about time someone burned Rome to the ground; no amount of foreign perfume can cover the smell of shit in these streets…

But he won’t say no to gold or jewels, they might some day decorate his future wife's neck and wrists perhaps. Neither will he ride homeward without a slave to keep him warm. He hasn’t had a woman in months, the only thing closest to a cunt has been his calloused fist and he’s grown tired of that, nothing can compare with the real deal so a soft little female is exactly what he needs to keep him company when he and his warriors return North.

Your options are either freezing to death or crawling inside this giant’s cloak when he holds it open for you come nightfall, the voyage to Germania bringing with it the first snow and cold winds straight from Hades. You have no option but to go to this man for some body heat, the low rumble in his chest resembling the pleased purr of some untamed beast as he envelops you in wool and a hungry embrace.

He never speaks to you, only talks with his hands that roam all over your body as you cling to him with clattering teeth. Examining the wideness of your hips, the plumpness of your ass and tits, he serves himself a handful and some pinches as if he’s sampling fruit at the marketplace. Rubs your nipples between the pad of his thumb and pointer until you flinch from pain, mutters something pleased when he sees your skittish reaction. He won’t allow you to pull away however, not when you’re finally here, so back to his arms you go as he crushes you against his chest.

He’s amused at your attempts to both huddle closer and squirm away: why are you being so difficult when clearly, you want this too?

He saw how you looked at him back there when he was drenched in blood, that’s the reason he chose you. You’re sweeter than an apple, didn’t even scream when he swept your hair from your face to have a better look at you, you only eyed him with challenge when he inspected your lips, waistline and hips. A scared female would have avoided his eyes and begged not to be killed or worse, but you only lifted your chin and spat on his face, practically begging to get fucked…

And now you’re acting like you don’t want his cock while at the same time, you continue to stare at him like a deer in heat. If you don’t want him to fuck you then you should stop making him hard, but in truth König is only glad that he chose you out of all women. The ride back home won’t be dull with a fiery fox woman like you, he has to be careful that he doesn’t get bitten and bruised… How his men would laugh in the morning if they found out that the vixen he stole has made him hers, little teeth marks decorating his skin and betraying everyone your claim.

He would only be proud of you if you did that; women are quite adorable when they have some fire in them. But make no mistake, he won’t let you go no matter how hard you act like you hate him… Everyone here knows you want to jump on his cock; had he decided to inspect your pussy too while covered in your husband’s blood, he could’ve bet all his fortune along with his horse that you were already wet for him.

He could take you right now on this cold, hard ground, try to see how long it takes to make you wet and pliant. The only thing really keeping him from doing so are his men, no doubt wanting to see how a Roman lady takes their giant leader's cock. But he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you naked, let alone watching him fuck you, he'd have to kill them all afterwards...

So he settles for making his naughty little slave warm, and both of you a little breathless. He can find a more discreet place for you tomorrow, order a break or two to ease the heaviness of his sacks, the aching hard ons he’s had ever since he saw you. He has to be careful not to break you, and remember to kiss you on your neck, he heard that that’s the key to make women wet and willing.

You seem so fragile and frail when you fall asleep, finally surrendering to him, your body yielding and molding against his. In the morning, you whimper sweetly when he squeezes your now warm, plush body, and plants kisses on your face, your neck. You have no idea that the warriors are already mocking him for “making you wait so long”, that he has listened to stupid jokes all morning with you securely tucked inside his cloak. You bite him when he tries to come too close, all the brutes around you burst to laughter as he howls from pain.

Not feeling at all sorry for him when he rubs his neck and looks at you with drowsy curiosity, you rise and spit again on the ground as if you had just tasted something vile. He can’t stifle his smile then, your idea of foreplay is much more fun than what he had in mind…

And you aren’t flung over his horse, but actually get to ride it with him, the arm around your middle like iron as he keeps you as close to him as possible. You don’t know that he’s reluctant to take an unwilling woman, and that this preference makes him the laughing stock of the group. Neither do you know that König has already pictured you inside his hut, baking bread and scolding children like the firebrand that you are, giving him a naughty little wrestle and a fistfight every night before bed... Shuddering from want like you do now on his horse as he exposes your breasts to the approaching winter.

You are about to faint as tiny snowflakes land on your nipples, melting instantly as this man starts to fondle your tits. Slumping against his blazing form, you can do nothing but accept your fate as the horse keeps walking and the men around you shout and whistle at the sight of your breasts. The rough barks of your captor quickly end their excitement upon seeing your exposed tits, the whistles stop and the men turn their eyes quickly away from you.

The man behind you is now perfectly content, riding in the crisp morning air while pawing your breast with one hand and holding the reins with the other, his groin grinding against you with the movements of the horse, making it clear that he might soon stop this torture altogether and take you to the nearby woods for a quick fuck…

#barbarian!könig #dark content #spoils of war #historical au #tw: slavery #tw: dark themes #cw: dark content

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve smut #dark!steve x reader #dark steve x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!captain america #dark!fic #mcu smut #mcu x reader #slasher!au #stalker!steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #kechiwriteskinktober #kechiwrites #cw: dark content #cw: noncon #kinktober 2023 #captain america x reader #chris evans characters #steve rogers x black!reader #captain america x black!reader #steve rogers x black reader

[toji-girl]

confessions | priest! s. geto

synopsis: He made a vow to God and was serious about keeping it, he never wanted to stray off the path of righteousness until he met you who he swore was a demon sent to seduce and tempt him, so he has to make sure you're not.

wc: 6.9k

tags: dark content + please heed this before reading +18+ ONLY content + minors and empty blogs DNI + modern au + repost from my old blog + this has been beta read + lots of religious themes because he’s a Priest and lots of sex talk and thinking about it + praising + sacrilegious themes + anthropolatry + body worship + virgin! Suguru (virginity loss) + corruption kink + desecration + sex in a confessional booth + edging + overstimulation + Father being used inappropriately + Satoru x you + Toji x you, breeding + female and male masturbation + fingering + spitting + dirty talking + unprotected sex + creampie + teasing + spanking + squirting + fellatio + dirty talking + cunnilingus + gagging obsessive behavior from Suguru and you + stalking + voyeurism + non-consensual recording + any missing tag lmk!

AN: this was posted such a long time ago but it has been heavily rewritten and edited - this was for a collab, can't remember who it was, but I know it was for this theme and after seeing a fanart of Suguru as a priest, and since he won my poll I knew he would fit this! he might be ooc to some so please remember!!

If anyone were to pass by Suguru’s office late at night they would hear the soft prayers, him begging God to stop the thoughts that were plaguing his mind over you, the woman who wormed her way into his brain like some sort of parasite, or perhaps you were a test designed to see if he would fail. 

It was immoral the way he thought about how soft your body would feel underneath him. and it sure didn’t help when you came to Church dressed in your Sunday best, a tight dress that gave everyone just a hint of what lies beneath the cheap fabric.

You flaunted what God gave you. Well, that’s what you told Suguru when he raised an eyebrow, eyes roamed your body settling on your legs, legs that he thought about wrapped around his head more than once. 

You haunted his dreams, soon bleeding into his daily thoughts when he was awake. Even in prayer, he would trail off thinking about you kneeling like the good girl you are under his desk, his cock slapping against your tongue in the most sinful ways, those thoughts would earn him more prayers. 

“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, please, I just want to know how she would taste. That is all.”

Shame filled the priest as he stared into the mirror, looking at his dick throbbing under his cassock. Blood rushed to his cheeks when he hiked up the fabric, palming his erection wishing to God you were there.

It was something to relieve the tingle sitting heavy in his balls. Another thought of you on your knees, mouth open, tongue out and covered in his cum, your eyes glittering with the knowledge you corrupted him and a smile to boot. 

Thoughts like his filled your head too as you humped your pillow or when you invited Toji over, your father’s friend and another member of the Church who often comes to your place to have you ride her strap, over and over again like the sinner you are. 

You wanted to cry out your priest’s name instead when you finally came, pussy pulsing around Toji’s cock, it would be such a shame if Suguru could see you now; mouth hanging open, drool trickling down your chin with your fingers gripping on the leather fabric of the couch asking Toji to call you a bad girl and punish you because you deserve it, and who was he to disagree? After all, you’re sleeping with everyone but him. 

Here Toji was fucking his best friend’s daughter, his fingers pinching your waist, slamming you back against him, and the way your back arched more into it, mewling like a cat in heat. It was a weekly occurrence letting him cum inside you, the feeling you soon became obsessed with.

Neither of you spoke about it, especially as you sat next to him the next morning, feeling your panties dampen from the quickie you had earlier in his car in the parking lot. He liked to keep his hand on your knee when no one was paying attention, or so he thought. 

Suguru kept his eyes trained on you whenever you were around, but he never made it obvious, taking only small glances to make sure you weren’t doing anything that would get you in trouble.

Little does he know about the nights you would stay to pray for your sins, asking God to forgive you for the vile things you do only for you to get fucked on the pews by Toji who helped you light the candle and say a prayer for what just happened. It was a fun game you played with him, but your main focus was Suguru.

It was abominable to say the least, how your fingers ghosted over your clit at night, thinking of him above you, pinning your wrists down, grunting whilemercilessly drilling your needy cunt until you couldn’t think straight anymore.

It was an everyday thought that swam through your empty head. Most people called you airheaded but it was only because you thrived off the attention from the males who watched your eyelashes bat and lips pucker, crossing your arms over your chest, the attention was nice. 

A tooth-rotting “Please?” was all it would take, especially for Toji who was quick to spread your legs and hike up your dress, pressing his tongue against your clit, feeling it throb in need, and watching your legs shake after the orgasm he just gave you, cum covering your thighs.

You felt wet and sticky as you sat down crossing your legs, listening to Suguru perform his sermon. His words flowed through one ear and out of the other, shifting in your seat, uncrossing just at the right time to let him get an eyeful of your soaked panties, making all his blood rush to his cock, so he had to excuse himself shortly afterward so he could go into his office and wrap his fist tightly around his shaft, fucking his hand as his life depended on it.

At first, he let his mind go blank, but then visions of you on his desk with your legs spread open, handcuffs on your wrists, and connecting to the ones on your ankles invaded his mind. That was exactly the way he wanted you to be. All the depraved things you could think of, Suguru had already thought of.

He lay down each night thinking of you before he fell asleep. All he wanted to do was cum in you once, feel your warm tight pussy milking him dry from all that he has to offer. The thought of you being a demon crossed his mind once when he first met you a few months ago. Your parents spoke about you after his services showing off your pictures.

His eyes slightly widened, taking in how beautiful you are. It was a shock when the first dirty idea popped into his head. Suguru dedicated his life to being a man of God, but the mere thought of hearing your moans brought him to his knees.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. Your parents told me all about you.” Was the first thing he told you months prior, reaching for your hand, shaking it softly while holding your curious gaze. The glitter in your eyes made him look twice in awe and wonder what that twinkle was. 

It was the first time he thought about you being possessed because that’s the only way you would have such power over him from just one look, using your demonic charms on him, enticing him by wearing your short dresses, laying the charm on thick in order to seduce him.

For a response you giggled, looking sweetly at him, and his body reacted immediately to the sound of your voice, sending a shiver down his spine. And it was worse whenever he got a whiff of your perfume, following you like a dog, trying to ask you questions that seemed friendly.

All conversations never passed inappropriate because he wouldn’t want to be perceived as anything but an upstanding man of the Church, but that never stopped him cumming on his stomach and whimpering while fucking his fist, your name slipping out in breathy moans.

If Suguru heard you make the same noises he would surely cum on the spot, sending himself into overstimulation.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to pray away the guilt. It’s all wrong, and he knows it, but it’s human nature is what he tells himself when you come into his office on Sundays after service, holding a small bouquet of flowers that grows around town.

“Father? I just wanted to come in and say thank you for everything. You’ve shown me the light and I wanted to show you my gratitude.” You told him in a soft voice watching as Suguru leaned back smiling, holding his hand out.

“Come in. And thank you, that is very kind of you. How are you holding up with your job?” He asked curiously. 

You sat across from him crossing your legs. “Thank you for asking, it’s been going well so far.”

It wasn’t unusual of him to ask you questions in small increments, hoping to learn your schedule. He just wanted to get to know you better. 

Or was his behavior borderline something darker? Perhaps.

Maybe it was creepy to do so, but it wasn’t something he dwelled on for long before thinking of you bouncing on his cock, your hands on his shoulders struggling to take him all in at first, your whining about how big he is stroking his ego, sending his hips upward, impaling you deeper.

That was his favorite fantasy, that played over and over in his head like a movie until he noticed the way you sat closer to Toji, ghosting his knee with yours or the way you smiled so sweetly for him. Why don’t you smile for your Father like that? The thought enraged him at first because instead of him fucking you it was Toji.

Anger filled Suguru like hot liquid pouring into his veins. And he felt sick to his stomach every time he heard you giggling while grabbing Toji’s arm, looking at him with doe eyes.

There was nothing to be done about that, and still, he didn’t have an inkling that you made a late-night stop at the adult store looking for a dildo that would resemble what you think his dick looks like, pretty with a red flushed tip, thick and heavy, veins decorating the long shaft and heavy balls made for breeding that swung with each thrust of his hips. It was only that thought that made you achieve the blissful feeling of your climax.

You wanted to know what sounds he made when he came, knowing full well he’s never fucked anyone but his hand. The thought of corrupting him was exciting to you.

You waved and smiled at Suguru before sitting next to Toji. “Am I coming over tonight?” He asked, leaning in and whispering in your ear. You turned to him, giving his knee the same friendly squeeze.

“Yes, be at my place at eight.”

The only reason you still let Toji come over and fuck you is so you use your dildo later, pretending it was Suguru, fucking his cum back in your sloppy pussy. Something about the whole thing was a bit off, but you didn’t care when thinking of all the ways you could make Suguru confess his sins to you.

Your mind ran wild all during service, eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, resisting the urge to stick your hand between your legs, which would be frowned upon to do in Church, no less during service.

Later that night, you were on your back, with Toji on top of you panting and drooling over you like a dog. “Do you like that?” He grunted, holding your waist, kneading the flesh with rough hands. You cringed hearing him talk like that, his hands moving up to your breasts squishing them, movements growing sloppy. Your head hung off the side of the bed fisting the sheets.

Suguru watched the scene unfold in front of your living room window on the opposite side of the wall. Another strike off the list of things he never thought he would do. It wasn’t something he would ever admit out loud, too scared that someone would hear with their prying ears. Besides, you were supposed to be at your friend’s house. 

That’s what he heard you tell your parents earlier when you declined their invitation for dinner, so stumbling upon this sight was the last thing that he expected.

Suguru accidentally found your address going through the visitor log you signed with your new address, finally out from under your parent’s roof after moving back home. That’s what he told himself, that finding out where you live just slipped up. No one would question him.

A frown tugged down his lips, watching the way your face showed nothing but boredom almost, not the look Suguru imagined when you were getting fucked. Was it him you thought about with each bounce of your body from Toji’s thrusts? There was no way that he was pleasuring you the way that Suguru could.

His eyes traveled down your naked body, zeroing in on the way his friend held your breasts, pushing them together. A groan escaped his lips, followed by pink-tinged cheeks as he walked past your window, keeping his raven head down.

Each Sunday you were sure to bring cookies of all sorts, and at every bake sale you helped set up, you captured the hearts of everyone, cooing about how sweet you are, dedicating time to do this.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I admire Father Geto and everything he stands for so I’m more than glad to help.” That always earned you brownie points and the, “Aw, that’s very precious of you.”

Would they say how precious you are if they found you on your knees in the closet with another member of the church?

Satoru loved when you held his wrist, dragging him in the cramped space, pressing his body against the wall, digging your manicured nails in the flesh of his thighs, relishing in the hissing sound he made driving his cock down your throat, gagging around him, earning the praise that you were so desperate to hear.

“Good girl. Just like that.” He moaned, grabbing a handful of your hair to anchor himself, watching his spit-covered cock slide in and out of your mouth, your eyes glassy playing with your clit under the skirt you wore just for him per his request. You didn’t pull away with a wet pop of your lips until you swallowed as much as you could.

Satoru was always quick to help you get on your feet, flipping up your skirt, making it easier for him to bend you over, fucking you from behind, filling not only your mouth but your cunt as well with a load of his cum.

Another prayer was said when you stepped out of the closet, bidding Satoru a farewell kiss before rounding the corner, and running straight into Suguru. You reached for his arms, steadying yourself. The feeling of his hand on the small of your back and his spicy scent that filled your nostrils made your pussy clench, pushing out Satoru’s cum, and smearing it against your panties. 

“I didn’t know you were still here Father. I’m sorry.” You said bowing your head. Suguru chuckled, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

“No worries. Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I was just looking over the plans for tomorrow’s potluck. I’m making your favorite cookies. It’s still chocolate chip, right?” You asked batting those eyelashes of yours and those lips were perfectly pouty.

“Ah. Yes, it is. You have a good memory.” This ache sparked in his hand, wanting to reach out to feel how you felt under his touch. Were you thinking the same thing as you stared at him, eyes still glossy from the tears of your previous encounter?

“Father, I think I need to confess something.” Your voice came out as a whisper, stepping forward wrapping your fingers around the hidden rosary beads under his collar and pulling it free.

Suguru opened his mouth to answer but you were quicker. “Ah, Father. I was talking. I hope you weren’t going to interrupt me?” You asked mockingly, pursing your lips, forming a small pout. He shook his head watching your sticky lips from the smeared lip gloss and spit. 

“Can I come and confess next Sunday?”

“Yes, I’ll see you then. Now, if you’ll excuse me. Have a blessed night.” He grabbed his rosary from your fingers’ hold, careful not to touch you before tucking it back in his collar, leaning down with a slight smirk, “next time you attempt to touch me I’ll be sure to tie your wrists down.”

You could hear him chuckle to himself walking down the hallway, mentally giving himself a point.

It was shameless the way he flirted with you, but it felt freeing, giving the both of you masturbation material for later in the evening, him fucking his fist again in the shower, leaning against the wall, panting loudly, face screwed up in pleasure as he stood under the warm water, feeling it wash the soap away while your name spilled from his mouth, his hips stuttered spraying cum all over the tile grunting.

While you lay on your bed replaying the scene again, you thrust the dildo slowly, curling your toes, whining Suguru’s name, and arching your back. The need to have him between your legs lapping at your pussy, made you ache all over like the flu, hot and stiff muscles, mewling, trying to chase your orgasm, feeling the familiar sensation snap, sending your cunt into overdrive, pulsing around the toy.

Suguru woke each morning, adding an extra prayer when he looked in the mirror, getting ready. “I only want one thing, that’s to hear her whimper.”

It was sinful in many ways, the way he begged for just a scrap of something other than the polite tone you use with him. Everyone greeted him with a smile, only earning a meager wave and a solemn look on his face, but whenever he looked at you, his face lit up, and each time he prayed that nobody paid attention.

His only thought was you, it wasn’t just about the ways he wanted to have you, it was also how you were doing, the consuming thought of you in your kitchen, making his favorite cookies. It wasn’t something you had to do, but he’s been nothing but nice to you, and now with the promise of him tying your hands together lingering in the air, you were ready to do whatever it took.

Sunday morning, you were sure to wear the color that attracted his attention the most, white. A sign of you being pure and innocent, but he knew that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t a secret to him anymore, after him watching Toji fuck you on your couch, and after hearing Satoru confess about the quickie you two had the other day, when he thought that no prying ears were around.

Later that evening he heard you click the door shut and sit down, fixing your skirt. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last confession.” You began, clearing your throat and glancing over at the wooden window, through the small holes, watching him squirm in his seat. This is it, you thought, it’s all or nothing.

“I’ve been having premarital sex with two men. They attend the church. You know them. Toji Fushiugro and Satoru Gojo. I let Toji bend me over the pews a few times, holding my hips as he stretched me out with his cock. Then I would get on my knees for Satoru.” If you were to confess this to another priest, they would gasp, hearing the lewd way you describe your deeds, but not Suguru.

Your mind was running wild with the thoughts of your story. “Father? What should I do?” You whimpered, gripping your skirt, and rubbing your knees together.

“Touch yourself.” Suguru groaned, his voice straining to keep his composure. He shouldn’t be asking you such a thing for more than one reason.

You smiled and gasped loud enough for him to hear, feigning to be shocked by his request, but you obliged nonetheless without the slightest resistance, making his prayer come true. He heard the wood creak underneath you as you spread your legs, guiding your finger to your clit to rub the swollen bud with your middle finger.

“You want me to touch myself, Father? Should I slide my fingers inside? Do you want to hear how wet you make me?”

His cock twitched heavily in his pants running his palm over the bulge. “Y-yes, keep going.” He instructed hoarsely. Following his order, you splayed your lips open gathering your slick easily, thrusting your middle and index finger in your cunt, the wet sound filled the small booth.

The faster you went the harder Suguru’s cock got, aching to the point of pain. “Father, can I cum?” You were asking him for permission? The pure feeling he got coursing through his body tingled all throughout.

“Did you think about me when you were fucking them?” He asked, shutting his eyes.

“I did, yes. And when they left, I fucked myself with the dildo I bought after thinking of how big you were, stuffing their cum deeper in me, wishing it was you instead.” You whined softly wanting him to touch you. 

Oh, this was much better than anything he’s ever experienced. It was a sin, but hearing you play with yourself next to him, everything that happened leading up to this point was worth it.

“S’close,” You moaned, grazing your fingertips against the abused swollen bud, triggering your orgasm and prayer. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and; forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.”

“Amen,” Suguru muttered, feeling his balls release, sending thick ropes of cum in his boxers, covering his thighs making a mess. 

“Say your Hail Mary before you go to sleep.”

You chucked checking a point off for yourself. “Goodnight Father. I’ll be sure to think of you tonight.” You told him, opening his door, sliding just your hand in, setting your panties on his knee, and giving him a soft pat. “I’ve masturbated in these to you many times.” With that, you left the booth heading home to say your Hail Marys.

Another week of misery. Your moaning playing on a loop in his head. Many times he almost slipped mid-conversation whenever you walked by him, letting his mind and eyes wander, and hoped that it wasn’t obvious to whoever he was talking to at the moment.

It wasn’t usual for him to catch you washing dishes after a potluck for someone’s birthday. “Thank you for staying and helping with the dishes,” Suguru told you, walking into the kitchen. “Father, good evening.” You smiled, glancing up at him from the sink, elbow-deep in dishwater. A smile stretched his lips back. Stepping further in, he walked around the counter, leaning against the edge, grabbing the dish towel, and drying the dishes you washed.

“How are you feeling since your last confession?” He asked in a low voice.

“I’m feeling a lot better. I plan on being back next Sunday at the same time. I’ve been very naughty Father.” You whispered looking at him. 

Suguru’s cock throbbed watching you lick your lips. “How should I repent?” You asked, leaning forward, taking note of his rapid pulse.

“Say another Hail Mary and don’t touch yourself until your next confession.”

“That’s going to be tough.” You pouted, draining the water and then wiping your wet hands over your shirt, soaking the see-through fabric. 

“Does that mean someone else can touch me?”

Suguru shook his head, still holding the plate in his hand leaning in as you did the same. “No. You can keep celibate for me, can you not?”

“Yes, Father.” You nodded, trying to swallow the lump that formed in your throat, the tension so thick it was beginning to become harder to breathe, being this close to him. Maybe an inch closer and your lips would press against his, and your cunt would graze his thigh, releasing some of the pressure building between your legs.

“Good girl.” Suguru pulled back, setting the dish towel down. “Have a good night.” He called out before leaving you alone to collect your thoughts, a heavy sigh accompanied with a soft whine left your lips leaning against the counter. You debated calling Satoru for a quickie, he didn’t live far from your apartment so it wouldn’t take him long to get there and help you out, but the thought of Suguru calling you a good girl played repeatedly in your head.

It wasn’t long before you broke your promise, letting Satoru lick your clit, his fingers splaying you open, both legs thrown over his shoulders, emitting loud slurping noises from eating you like a starved man, long fingers digging in your sensitive cunt.

Today you were greedy with how many orgasms you could get, so far you hit three just with his mouth. “Are you still cumming sweetheart?” Satoru asked, pulling away and looking up at you, chin glistening from spit and cum, reminding you of the last time you sucked him off. “Satoru, please, fuck me!” You whined wrapping your fingers around his biceps.

Your pussy hugged him tightly with each drag of his cock splitting you open, his fingers in the tender meat of your thighs keeping them spread apart. Each time his hips slammed against your ass your eyes rolled to the back of your head. When your eyes closed you imagined Suguru over you grunting instead, sweat rolling down his back rutting into you, over and over again, making you cream around him.

By now Satoru knew the routine, leaving with a small awkward hug, his feelings growing deeper for you each time you shed your clothes for him, but he didn’t know about your obsession with Suguru, nor about how it was growing deeper with each passing day. Toji also shared the same feelings as Satoru.

It was hard not to. The way you treated them so sweetly and of course, everyone else too. Sure you were a little empty-headed, but that didn’t matter each time you bounced on their cocks.

No other girl would dare do something so vile, ruining their chance of getting a good husband, but you didn’t care, because the feeling of an orgasm was something that couldn’t be compared to something such as exchanging rings.

You said your prayers every morning and night, to disperse the feeling of guilt nipping at your ankles, it was wrong to defile yourself and all your beliefs, but in the end, you’re only a person with needs. 

At least, that’s what you tell yourself anyway, sliding up your skirt in the bathroom stall, pulling your panties down, and letting Toji thrust in you later that afternoon.

His hands are on your waist holding you against the wall, rutting in you. It was fruitless at this point, having him or Satoru fuck you, your face giving away the boredom you felt. Toji cleared his throat as he pulled out. “You know, you could seem a little bit interested.” He said clearly pissed that you weren’t even acting like you liked it. 

“I’m sorry,” You replied, putting your hands on his shoulders. “I’ve been going through a lot lately, but why don’t you give me a call later?” With a chaste kiss on his cheek, you left him in the bathroom stall after pulling your panties up, walking out frowning. There was this pit in your stomach that was slowly growing bigger, it first started when you met Suguru, and now months later, all your thoughts were of him.

Everything about this whole situation was wrong. You knew it but it never stopped you.

Sunday evening, you opened the booth, settling on the creaky wooden bench, a heavy sigh emitting from your lips. Suguru placed his hands in his lap waiting for you to begin. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was a week ago.”

He wouldn’t admit to knowing that you sinned after shamelessly watching you pump your dildo in and out of your wet cunt, learning that you were a squirter.

The only reason he knew that was because after his plan was hindered the other night by you being home, he chose another time to come back. Luckily, the neighborhood you live in is not very frequented, so no one saw him creep in and out of your house. Unbeknownst to you, he installed cameras all over your house, obsessed with knowing how you spent your days, and how, and with who, you spent your nights.

It wasn’t the first time that he masturbated to you, but unlike the other times, now he could actually see you, and there was something about invading your privacy that aroused him beyond comprehension, it felt so wrong and yet so right.

He never came so hard before, shooting thick ropes of cum everywhere, feeling like he was about to pass out from the intensity of his orgasm. Weak and panting, it wasn’t long before he drifted to sleep, hand, and chest still covered in sweat, spit, and cum.

“I touched myself, and I let them touch me again. Their fingers and tongues fucking me. I wished it was your cock I was on instead. Your cum filling my cunt, leaking out, and making a mess. Would you fuck me, Father?” Your last sentence came out whiny, as you spread your legs stroking your cunt.

Suguru’s breath trembled as he copied your actions, before grinding the heel of his palm against his erection. “I would.” He admitted with a heavy sigh.

Your fingers slipped in your cunt, curling. There was no way it would bring you the pleasure that you truly craved. “I want you to touch me, please. What do you think I feel like?” You asked, wanting to hear him submit to your sinful ways.

“Your skin, soft and supple. Your pussy, wet and warm, pulsing around my cock. Your mouth, the same way as I fuck your throat.”

His words felt like an electric shock coursing through your blood, pooling in your cunt, making your walls restrict your fingers, on the verge of an orgasm already, your breathing becoming erratic.

“It usually takes you a while to climax, doesn’t it?” He asked, bunching the fabric of his cassock in his free hand, the other wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly, edging himself.

“I-it does yes, but when I envision you, I usually cum right then.” You were quick to admit it, but he would be lying if he said that the same thing didn’t happen to him. Thinking of his face between your breasts tightened his balls. 

“Tell me, what do you think about in these fantasies, when thinking about us?” He asked stroking his dick from base to tip making sure to twist his wrist. 

“How your cock would feel inside. I think you have the biggest one I could lay my eyes on, and it’s thick too. Just tell me if I’m right Father, because I’m imagining the way I would struggle to take you all the way in, squealing, splitting myself open on you. And when you climax, it’s a lot and very thick coming from heavy balls made to breed, would you like to do that? Pump all your cum inside my pretty pussy? Holding my hips down, making sure that I keep still so every drop isn’t wasted?”

Words couldn’t formulate in his brain, drunk on the thought of what you just described, burned into his mind. He never thought about having children after his vow of celibacy, but now, it was all he could think about. Your whimpers grew louder, echoing through the empty Church as you neared your orgasm.

“Stop!” Suguru demanded, roughly surprising you as he stood up unbuttoning his cassock and then heading to your booth. There was no stopping what was going to happen next. Both of you have been waiting for this moment since the first time you laid eyes on each other.

Your eyes widened, taking in his naked chest. It was visible that he has broad shoulders, but what you didn’t think about was how he still stayed in shape. Saliva pooled in the corner of your mouth as it hung open. Greedy hands tugged his boxers down, freeing his cock hearing how it slap against his abs. 

“I was right, thick and long.” You murmured watching him kick the door shut leaning his arm against the wall above your head while looking down at your fingers wrapping around his shift.

Suguru chuckled darkly, yanking your shirt up, freeing your tits. “No bra… Did you think tonight was the night you seduced me?” He asked, bucking his hips at your touch, a small whimper leaving his mouth. 

You laughed, looking up at him. “Seduce and corrupt you Father. It’s always been a fantasy of mine.”

“Has it now? Why-” He was cut off, feeling your lips wrap around his head, tongue curling under the most sensitive part, suckling, your hand cupping his balls gently, squeezing them. Suguru’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, digging his nails in the palm of his hand when you went further down, struggling to take him.

Slowly you bobbed your head up and down, keeping your fist wrapped around him, jerking him off, adding more drool making it easier and messier.

You gagged, feeling tears spring to your eyes. Looking up, you saw the look of sheer pleasure gracing his face, the sounds of you slurping around him roaring in his ears. It was so much better than his hand, your soft mouth warm and tight, the best thing he’s ever fucked.

He watched you pull away with a wet pop of your lips, using your spit as lube to jerk him off, pressing your thumb over his slit, slightly pressing in.

“Am I doing a good job, Father?” You asked, batting your eyelashes, glancing up. Suguru nodded his head, groaning. 

“You are, but I want a taste of you now.”

It was a sight to see him drop to his knees in front of you, putting both hands on your knees, pushing your legs open, your bare pussy on display like a meal for him to devour. But before that happened, Suguru wanted to take his time. Setting the mood, pressing small kisses, he grabbed your ankle, letting your foot dangle off his shoulder.

You watched his lips leave a wet trail up your thighs, ghosting across your pussy, barely fluttering his tongue over your clit, kissing the same places down your other leg. He chuckled, feeling you squirm under his touch. “What’s so funny?” You pouted.

“I’ve barely touched you and I see your cunt dripping.”

You sucked a breath between your teeth, feeling him spread your lips apart, looking at the innermost part of your pussy, your arousal very apparent, coating your thighs and the bench below your ass.

“I’ve thought about what my cum would look like leaking from all of your holes. Have you ever let a man fuck that tight ass?” He asked, moving his hand away, trailing the tip of his finger up and down your slit, groaning as he watched the way you clenched around nothing.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Good. I’ll be the first then, but we’ll save that for later. For now, I can’t wait to know what your cunt tastes like.” He growled, wrapping his arms under and around your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulder, burying his tongue in your cunt, eagerly lapping, completely ignoring your fingers tugging on his blonde roots, and grinding against his mouth.

At this point it was no longer for you, he was eating you for his own pleasure.

Cum soaked his thigh, as he came desperately trying to fit his tongue in your tight hole. “Father!” You moaned, squeezing his head with your thighs, humping his face as you grabbed two handfuls of his long hair. 

Suguru slid two fingers inside you, slowly pumping while wrapping his tongue around your clit, working both of them together, feeling you clench around him. This is better than his fantasies, he thought, finally hearing you moan for him, begging for release.

Pulling out he watched your clit throb from the orgasm that he ripped away. “Why did you stop?” You whined, fucking yourself on his fingers, making him chuckle again. 

“So needy, aren’t you?” He mocked, adding in another finger.

Hearing the squelch, his balls tightened again, thrusting his fingers in and out, lapping up your juices from his hand. “You’re so perfect, the way your pussy is fluttering on the edge of release. I want to show you how good it feels to cum on my cock. Are you ready?”

All you could manage was a weak nod, your body feeling hot and tingly with each thrust of his fingers, stroking the fire deep in your stomach until it was too much to handle as you came around him, his mouth replacing his fingers, licking up your cum, softly digging his fingers in your thigh, covering your skin with your slick, both of you panting heavily looking at each other. “Who knew you were such a pro?” You teased cupping his cheek.

Suguru pressed a wet kiss to your palm as he stayed on his knees, dragging the hem of your dress up to your waist. The tension between the two of you, and the look you shared, weighed heavy on the unspoken rule of what’s to come, once he crosses the line of fucking you.

The line was crossed the first time he had inappropriate dreams of you, so he didn’t spare a second thought when he fisted the base of his cock, guiding it to your waiting pussy.

You were barely seated on the wooden bench when Suguru held your hips, pressing his cock in. A whimper left your lips, feeling his head slip past your soft muscles. Each inch that slid in made you feel impossibly full and he was only halfway in. “Oh my God, you’re so big!”

Hearing that stroked his ego, both of you gasping once he bottomed out. He held your hips, rutting against you, sliding in and out. Each time he would pull almost all the way out and then slide in slowly. Your back arched, clinging to him, trying to squirm away at first from him stuffing you, it was a mixture of pain and pleasure, feeling this full.

Leaning forward, Suguru trailed kisses across your chest and clavicle, nibbling the skin, lazily fucking you, his mind turning into a puddle the closer he got to cumming.

It frustrated him knowing he was this close already. His eyebrows furrowed, feeling the sweat roll down his face, not only from how hot it was in the cramped area but also the fact that he was desecrating something so sacred while worshipping you, his words bleeding into your skin.

“I always knew you were a good girl.”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I love it when you squeeze me like that.”

“You’re doing such a good job.”

“Moan louder for me sweetheart. Let me know how much you like fucking me.”

“Keep going!” You begged sitting up, wrapping your arms around his neck, bucking your hips, the both of you desperately fucking each other. Movements became harder and sloppier, the noises went from sighs and moans to something completely animalistic. You snarled each time you felt his balls slap against your ass. He held your waist helping you bounce up and down with the heels of your feet pressed against his tight ass cheeks.

“You’re so wet. Do you hear how wet you are for me? You’re being such a good girl for me… I don’t want to let go now that I’ve had a taste of you.” He growled, wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest, fucking you from below.

It was heavenly, the way your cunt hugged his cock like a vice grip, the feeling was indescribable, nothing could ever compare to the way you clung to him, mewling like a cat in heat, burying your head in the crook of his neck, rolling your hips, grinding your clit against his pubic bone.

“I’m so close. Want you to cum in me, Father. Breed me, please!” You begged, pulling away with wet eyes, bouncing harder, feeling your nipples rub against the blonde hair littering his chest.

You’ve never felt this way before, the way you ground on him shamelessly without a care in the world, it didn’t matter that he was your priest or that you took his virginity in his confessional booth.

“We’re both going to have to pray after this.” You murmured in his ear, smirking. Pink crept in his cheeks. He muttered a response, something you didn’t hear nor did you care to.

You kissed him, parting his lips with your tongue, tasting him greedily. It wasn’t every day that you got to fuck your priest, nor did you get to feel him hold your hips, slamming down, impaling you on his dick.

Suguru felt your orgasm hit, tipping him into his own, spraying ropes of cum against your cervix, whimpering in your neck about how good you feel, his hands massaging your waist, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

“How do you feel now?” You asked, slicking his blonde hair back gazing into his hazel eyes.

“Like a brand new man.” He answered, smiling softly at you.

#cw: dark content #cw: sacrilegious #cw: religious themes #cw: corruption #cw: virginity loss #jjk smut #Suguru smut #Suguru Geto smut #suguru x reader smut #suguru x you smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you smut #suguru geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto suguru #jjk suguru #geto #Geto smut #geto x reader smut #geto suguru smut #jjk x reader #suguru smut #geto x you smut #geto x yn smut

[ang3lfluids]

Hihi! Welcome!! You're writing for a ton of fandoms I'm either currently in, or used to be into which is awesome, do you have any general dirty hcs you wanna pop off? Any Fandom :3

HC ROULETTE!!

feat: Scaramouche ,, Vox ,,Ticci Toby ,, Andrew Graves

TW: DARK CONTENT AHEAD!! 18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

Eves notes: wrote this as soon as I woke up so if it’s crappy that’s why :3

SCARAMOUCHE:

- not super dark but I feel like he really likes blood. Super into knife play watching you beg and squirm for him not to hurt you. Really gets him going

- prefers a partner who is.. mentally weaker than he is, its an ego thing. He prefers how easy it is to just smack you around and force you to do whatever he wants. He’s also psychically stronger than most of his partners so that also comes in handy when they’re trying to put up a fight

- will sit there and talk you into fucking, even if you didn’t wanna. Then when you guys do fuck he’s shaming you and embarrassing you for trying to say no :( he knows what’s best for u !

- into dollification 100%, likes dressing u up in pretty frilly shit. Watching you quiver as he gets so fucking eager and just starts playing with you before you’re even fully ready :(

- likes to see you cry, also enjoys when you’re yelling at him to stop. You’re so fucking weak compared to him, your hitting and shoving means nothing! He’s still gonna fill you up no matter what you do or say.

VOX:

- voyeurism!!!! Super into watching his partner during the day, he likes knowing he can keep them safe. Thats his property. He also likes that he can watch you rubbing yourself to the idea of him hurting u :3

- shocking ~ if u step out of line with him, he’ll pinch u and shock you to get u back into ur place. If he feels like ur misbehaving too much than he’ll shock u hard enough to make ur brain stop for a solid 3 seconds, sometimes enough to knock you unconscious. Thats one of his favorite things to do because then it’s easier to slip his cock inside your eager wet cunt.

- hypnosis, usually only pulls this card if you’ve been pushing his buttons all day. He’ll act all gentle, all kind. Sitting you down before he wraps a hand around you throat making you stare at him as he tells you that you’ve pushed him so far. Just be prepared to not remember anything from the night before and also be prepared for the pain to follow (plus all the bruises, bite marks and slap marks)

- is prone to outbursts (duh) and takes them all out on you if ur near. Hits you, smacks you, shoves you, calls you every mean name in the book tbh. Most of these end with either him leaving you to tend to the mess he made, or him fucking your throat raw as you sob around his dick

- low-key into corruption but it’s a little hard to find a pure soul in hell but it’s definitely there, I mean he’s fucked u up so bad you enjoy the abuse he’s putting u through so!! Take that as u will

TICCI TOBY:

- WOOWWW KAYYY- hes a lil psycho so he’s into weird shit

- PRIMAL PLAY !!! Ughh loves to chase you through the woods, he made the deal that if u can get out he’ll set u free :( ya well that’s never gonna happen. Youre going up against a serial killer ? U really think he’ll risk u getting out? Nooo :( he’ll have you face down in the dirt fucking your sweet little pussy as he mocks you, hands gripping your flesh so hard they’re bound to bruise

- tbh Toby didn’t have a great role model growing up so- that low-key reflects in his relationship. Pushes you around 24/7, really just into his own pleasure.

- 100% a head pusher - you’ll both be relaxing ( a rare sight) and he’ll start stroking the back of your head putting pressure on your neck to bring you to his very apparent bulge.

- borderline beats the fucking shit out of you during sex. Smacks you with the back of his palm, chokes you till you’re toeing the edge of passing out, bites you till you’re bleeding esp in tender places like ur thighs or breasts

- actually enjoys the struggle you give MORE than sex most times. He thinks it’s cute you’re still trying to get away from him considering so many different factors are against u

ANDREW GRAVES:

- lets be so honest this boys so into step-cest, incest that whole shebang.

- besides the whole incest deal he’s pretty tame compared to the others I’ve written

- “you like your big brothers fat cock inside you hm?” Kinda bs :(

- adores eating pussy, like sit on his face pretty please he adores it

- definitely a switch me thinks- like if you asked to peg him he’d bristle and say fuck no, but then he’d look into it. Then beg u to fuck him :(( he’s a whiny little fuck

- I think in the dom position he’s fairly tame but sub?? Completely different person. Wants you to smack him, hit him, choke him, call him namesss. He’ll be putty in your hands tbh

- forced feminization, look at him and tell me he’s not pretty as fuck. So when you’re riding him and calling him a pretty girl he’ll whine and beg you to stop (don’t he’s lying). One time he let you put eyeliner and mascara on him, this ended up with him crying and begging to cum so it was all dripping down his face :((

- but he can be just as rough with as you are with him, with some limitations.

#cw: dark content #dead dove do not eat #dead dove smut #creepypasta #smut #scaramouche #Scaramouche smut #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #Vox smut #ticci toby #ticci Toby smut #andrew graves #andrew graves smut #tw: inc*st #tw: r*pe #tw: cnc

[nanamimizz]

𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐇𝚬 𝐆𝚶𝐓 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘…

…𝐓𝐀𝐊𝚬 𝐇𝚬𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝚶𝐌 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝚬𝐀𝐕𝚬 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝚶𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

author’s note: set in the yandere blade universe! part of a more significant piece in mind willing to answer questions about it. reader, the daughter of a cloud knight general was in an arranged marriage with blade before he became a criminal and took on the mantle blade - we aren’t aware of what his name used to/was so he is referred to as blade continuously. the reader is a social pariah and is married to a second husband. while we do not know exactly what blade and dan heng did together, we assume it was a creation of sorts, so that is implied. please keep in mind there is kidnapping in this piece but when this is out in it's bigger state there will be more heavy dc within the story!!

tags: +18 minors dni! dc content within, fem reader! arrange marriages, implied cheating/unfaithfulness, jealousy, angst, kidnapping, crying, mentioning of murder- let me know what i missed !

synopsis: a ghost shows his face - the past never dies, especially here in the xianzhou luofu.

You were frightened - it’s what you say to yourself as you grip the pillow beneath you, trembling in your inner clothes. It was like seeing a ghost, an apparition of your shameful past as red eyes leered at you from above, framed by long blue-black strands of his hair. Tilting his head you can hear the ornaments of his clothing and his earring clink quietly, paired with your trembling breaths; it’s all that can be heard in the room you share with your second husband. The man in front of you is like a cursed statue, unflinching, unmoving and unbreathing.

Still and present - like a stain you can’t get out, the past that will never die. He will lick his wounds and even if he were to lose a limb, his memories or his mind, the man known as Blade will always appear before you like a dog that doesn’t know any better. His eyes never leave you, even as you choke out the words and clutch the thin jade necklace he gave you as a wedding gift you still wear.

“Are you here to kill me?” Your words are punctuated by the cold sweat that runs down your cheek that he eyes with hunger.

“No. Of five people, three must pay a price…you are not one of them. Destiny has decreed that we will be together again.” His words turn your fear to anger. Fear, anger, betrayal - you think of your marriages. Though you grew to love the man he was once, your love had always been for the highest bidder. Blade’s former self’s talent was unmatched and your current lecherous husband’s money were the reasons for you being promised to these men. Love was never in the cards for you and even the man you did love had caused you so much strife because he couldn’t stay away from what intrigued him. Despite your counsel, your pleading, your begging - your life turned to ash in your mouth.

“Destiny? That is why you are here before me - because of the ramblings of a mad man?” You ask, tone impudent and harsh. If this was anyone else you’d be embarrassed, you were raised better than that but you just can’t help yourself at this moment. You didn’t even realize that you had tears stinging your eyes until he had drawn closer, knees to the bed and a gloved hand reached to cup your cheek. You couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to, once you were a proud warrior, the apple of your father’s eye and strong.

But after the incident you were stripped of it all - your weapon, your strength and even your father’s love.

You are weak and alone, a frightened woman with tears in her eyes at the mercy of the man she once loved. How pathetic you are, still the same from when you lost everything crying before all at the gravity of your loss.

“I made you cry.” He speaks finally, the artificial moon making his eyes glow like a crow’s in your room. His thumb rubs at your cheek and the affection is haunting as he would do this when his name was familiar to your tongue. You haven’t been touched so gently in a time, depraved of it for so long you don’t have it in you to smack his hand away. You’ve heard him say those words before - the memory makes you flush.

“You’ve always made me cry.” You say, tone warbling as you look at him with red eyes that almost match his. Blade makes a sound, confused but wanting and you look away to bring forth memories from when your lives were intertwined.

“Throughout our arrangement you didn’t say a word when we first met, I cried because I thought you found me repulsive. And you only gave me swords as gifts in the beginning, I thought it was because you didn’t find me womanly.” You laugh a little at that one, teary and soft because at the time you were driven mad about what to do but now you can’t help but find it humorous. The man before you was your blue spring of youth, and the winter of your death all the same.

 “Were we arranged?’ He murmurs, confused as his eyes scrunch in the same way they did when he would begin to craft some new tool for the artisans. You nod, letting small drops of salt water drip down your face.

“Yes. My father thought you were brilliant. He wanted to sponsor your talent, and through our marriage, you received financial help for your crafts.” You explained, feeling your cheeks turn tacky at the talk of finances. He nods, and again there’s a fog in his eye - a glaze that dulls his warrior sense as he begins to reach back into his mind for his ghosts of the past.

“That’s how me and Dan Fen-”

“Don't mention that man’s name to me.” You cut him coldly and it makes him laugh. Despite what you may think he does have some memories of you - your smile and the gentle way you would hold out your hand for finches to rest in your palm. It’s humorous to see you so harsh, like a lion cub growling.  

“Don’t worry, I plan to kill him when the time comes.” He says and it shames you to admit but that promise does soothe you some.

“I don’t care, I hate him. I hate you.” You say and Blade huffs an amused sound. Condescending and almost patronizing, you are aware that you sound like a petulant child.

“You’ve let me get rather close, for a man you hate.” He tries to tease but his voice is too monotone and you only grow more annoyed as you narrow your eyes and hiss at him.

“That’s because for as much as I hate you, I still love you. You were my first love, how could I possibly let you go?” You mutter the last bit but he still catches it and something smug grows in his chest at your admittance.

“Only love.” Blade says and you look at him bewildered.

“I am your only love. Unless you’ve fallen for the pig that is your current husband.” You blink and a new emotion glitters between your lashes and he wonders if he has made you cry again.

“Only love…yes…that’s right. A curse I must bear.” You say and he says nothing, as he supposed he must be like a stain on your life.

“Are you happy here?” Blade asks suddenly and it makes you glance at him from under your lashes that are still dewy with saltwater. It's a redundant question, the answer hangs in the space between the two of you - the liminal space that can be seen between the sun and the moon. Your voice cracks, and you answer him with a voice so bitter it makes Blade grin.

“No. No I’m not.”

“Would you like to leave?”

“Yes.”

Red eyes close to let his grin widen, a sight that before made you smile back then when he was younger and an awkward young man. Now all it does is drive a chill down your back, cold sweat like icicles down the fabric of your inner clothes as dread fills you up to your head. His head comes closer, you drown in a sea of banners and wine, your breath stutters and you don’t even see it - the tranquilizer in his hand that he is quick to inject you with. He is the last thing you see, and the last thing you feel is the ghost of his lips brushing against yours.

He laughs - a dark and cool sound that makes you whine like a frightened dog.

“Come with me then, just like it used to be - back then, now again.”

The celestial boat continues its journey, the artificial night sky filled with the stars it imitates but the only thing, when you wake up in a bed that is most unfamiliar next to a man who is both past and present you finally see the true stars for the very first time.

#lamb.writes #blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader reader #cw: dark content #cw: kidnapping

[emelinstriker]

ESAU Macaque doesnt like to live alone in a room?

Yeah, pretty much.

Can't fault him for being unable to live alone in a room though. He can stay in a room alone just fine, but wouldn't sleep alone in one. Which is why he usually stays with Wukong or the Reader.

#lmk esau #eternal servants au #doodle #lmk au #lego monkie kid au #esau macaque #cw: dark content #angst

[bewaretheidiotsofmarch]

The Ides of March have come.... But not gone

Ides 2022 repost because I worked ceaselessly on this

Starting from Left to Right: Marullus, Casca, Cassius, Brutus, and Flavius

#julius caesar #republic comic #beware the ides of march #historical fiction #ides of march #gaius epidius marullus #publius servilius casca longus #gaius cassius longinus #marcus junius brutus minor #marcus junius brutus #lucius caesetius flavus #marullus #casca #cassius #brutus #flavius #caesar #symbolism #cw: dark content #cw: blood #julius caesar art #adaptation #ancient roman #ancient rome #roman #late roman republic #roman republic #the ides of march #oc #lgbt+

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok but what if

What if Ghost was a knight (again) and then there's a spoiled, presumptuous lady who's bored (again)

She's the kind of princess who was dearly loved because she was a girl. No one knows why, because everyone knows girls are a liability. But she has been treasured and sheltered all her life, she always got everything she wanted, and now she's stupid enough to fall for Simon who has lived a life full of war and torment and who is not the kind of stray dog you would want to feed.

Our poor lady doesn't know she's playing with fire when she's toying with her father's (Price?) most loyal soldier: a brooding, tall, broad man who got his knighthood after this campaign or that. This outlander, Simon, catches her attention because he rarely speaks and never smiles, but makes her smallclothes wet because he has an ill look about him: a broken nose and a thin lipped, downturned mouth. This sir is looking everyone from under his brow like they're mere children in his eyes. The only time she's heard him speak is when he's barking orders in the courtyard.

She teases and teases and teases him: flirting every chance she can get, giving him soft brushes that barely remain within the bounds of propriety. She bestows heated stares that linger a little too long, she licks and parts her lips when they walk past each other in the cold, dimly lit corridors of the castle. He never returns any of her flirts.

Except the stares.

She can feel his eyes on her even when she's not looking. That coal-like stare is fixed on her wherever she goes: it's hot and cold at the same time, like embers that are kindling under long-forgotten ashes.

He's interested… But only in a way that a hungry, beaten, suspicious dog is interested when it's staring at a meaty bone, trying to decode if it's a treat or a trap.

He finally has enough one day when she dares to smile at him: softly, knowingly, like a whore in a tavern.

The gauntlet closes around her neck like an iron collar. She can smell the horses and the sweat and the dirty leather as the man she has dreamed of seizes her and pushes her back against a wall.

"Is this what you want? Hm?"

She finally hears him speak: dark, gravelly, and borderline exhausted from all the games she plays. Were he to hold her a little more tightly, she would call it a choke, a soft and slow strangling. The intensity is enough to make her heart flutter and her stare escape somewhere to the grey stone wall. There's no way she can meet that heated stare, now filled with flames and lust.

The knight she used to fantasize about is about to snap. The stoic, cold man is about to lose control at any given moment, and she's about to lose her maidenhood along with that shattered self-control.

He presses his whole body against her: leather and steel and hardened muscle, all that rough, well fed, thick flesh forged in countless battles is pressed against her frame like she is nothing but a flower. Her woolen dress is a poor shield against all the hard ridges of his armour, the pommel of his sword digs into her side painfully, but she pays it no mind. There's something equally as hard and demanding pressed against the apex between her legs. She's forced to rise to her toes from the way he drives his swollen cock up her cunt, and even if there's layers and layers of clothing between them, she can feel the heat of him.

"'S not a good idea to tease a starved dog," he snarls while watching her lose her confidence. All of it, because it was only ever a charade. A silly daydream of a silly young woman, just an attempt to distract herself, a pastime game that happened to turn into a dangerous obsession.

And he growls. He actually growls like a hound when she's suddenly so weak she can't even provide him with an answer. It's a dark rumble that meets her chest, a hot, slow breath that passes across her frightened skin. She feels like floating: his cock raises her from the ground as he tries to fuck into her through their clothes. The ironclad hand has never even seen mercy as it turns her head to the side for him to have a good sniff of her neck and hair.

"Sir," her lips tremble; her whole jaw is making it clear that she's about to cry soon. There's not enough stones on the wall for her to count if he decides to take her here. "Simon…? Please, sir. I'm a virgin…"

#cw: dark content #meeting on the turret stairs but with more dubcon #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #knight!ghost #medieval au #sansan vibes

[kechiwrites]

| kinktober week two | ♱ final girl ♱ | slasher!steve rogers x reader |

synopsis: “for steve, you are a very special victim.”

wc: 1k

cw: dark content, fem reader, noncon, creampies, unprotected sex, biting, bruising, violence, minor character death, stalking, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart), dacryphilia. I am not responsible for your consumption babes. NO MINORS.

author’s note: first dark fic i’ve ever shared, and for my day one fixation, captain america. there’s something wrong with him. i just know it.

♱ find the rest of my kinktober masterlist here ♱

Your head is spinning, the light from your neighbour’s halloween decorations cast your room in sickly orange and yellow light. Everything about it is making you ill, and you screw your eyes closed to keep your stomach from expelling its contents everywhere.

“Open your eyes, pretty girl. Please.” You can feel him shift over you, and when he pats your face, you open your eyes, glassy with tears, to stare at him. There’s sticky, drying blood covering the lower half of his face, and the dirty penny smell of it threatens to make you sick all over again. He smiles at you, perfect white teeth and pink lips, blonde hair and blue, blue eyes. 

“Go on, you can cry.” 

How magnanimous.

You’re covered in bite marks, some are shallow, some lightly bleed out of tender and broken skin. Where you aren’t bitten, there are hickeys, pockmarking his journey exploring your body, staking his claim on your throat and chest and hips and thighs. The bruises aren’t so bad, in the grand scheme of things, you can almost forget they exist when he isn’t pushing his thumb into them to watch you squirm.

Hell, they’re practically bug bites compared to the state of your boyfriend’s dead body downstairs.

He looms above you and he is so goddamn big, blocking out the hazy stream of your bedroom lights while he fucks you desperately. Hands roaming mindlessly, without purpose but with so much pleasure over the rise and curve of your stomach, your tits, your face.

You choke out, "Please don't hurt me." and his hips stutter, balls slapping against your ass and staying there, like he's trying not to come. You bear down on him, and a fresh wave of tears spills over your cheeks as you’re pushed over the edge, mind swimming in pain and sorrow and hot, hot heat. 

“Steve, please. I don’t want to d-”

"Shut up. Shut up. Please, shut the fuck up.” He groans, closing his hand around your tit and squeezing hard. He’s getting off on it, you realize. You want to live through this so badly, and that turns him on. “Can't -, I don't want to" he trails off when he starts pounding you again, the squelching, wet sounds of you taking him, letting him burrow deep within you filling the cramped, cluttered room, bouncing off your childhood toys and boy band posters. Your pink princess sheets are soaked with slick and sweat and two of his loads soaking your back that'd been displaced by the brutal thickness of his cock carving into you.

You grip at his arms as they hold you down, your nails digging into his skin, and he stops again, anchoring up and off you to peer at your face. 

"Be good, like I know you can be and it'll all be over soon. I promise."

Impossible.

You choke on your own sob, and bite down on your tongue to stop yourself from lashing out. He’s clearly sick in the head, and when this is all over, when he lets you go like he promised he would, you swear to god in heaven and the devil below that you’d wipe this all from your mind. You’d burn the sheets and maybe even your bed too. And a little voice in your head whispers over the sound of him messily, greedily fucking you open, that you’d need evidence, some way of proving that it was local hero, universally adored firefighter, Steven Grant Rogers that’d been killing people for the past year and a half. Steven Grant Rogers who had been stalking you for weeks in an unfamiliar brown sedan before he’d made his move. Steven Grant Rogers who’d taken his sweet time cutting your boyfriend to ribbons before he’d chased you up the stairs, two steps at a time and locked the bedroom door behind him, as if he was worried someone would interrupt. 

You didn’t need evidence. Because no one would believe you. If you even got the chance to tell them. 

Your body shudders, fear and pleasure tangling together and burrowing deep in the pit of your stomach, snagging on your insides like hooked burrs, only tearing free when he rips another orgasm from your overstimulated, woefully overworked body. 

“Good, so good sweetheart. There you are.” You can tell he loves it, the involuntary show of ecstasy, the way you’re too far gone to resist anymore, the way your legs wrap around his middle and push you ever closer without your permission.

But your permission doesn’t matter much, apparently.

His hands sink into your flesh so deeply you cry out, but what’s more bruises on top of the ones he’s already given you? What’s one more round of his seed fucked into you, soaking the walls of your cunt? What’s one more scream into the apathetic, inky black night?

Steve’s teeth dig into the flesh of your chest, then he laves the stinging spots with his tongue. A particularly rough thrust pushes you up the bed, and without missing a beat he follows your aching body, forcing your pussy to part around him, to welcome yet another rush of his cum within you. He tugs at your nipples with roughened fingers, calloused by the fireman’s axe he used to obliterate your front door. His lips cover your pulse, sucking hard at the skin, like he was trying to taste your heartbeat, erratic and sugar sweet. Your clit thrums, untouched and begging for attention, but Steve pulls out, rubbing the slick skin of his cock over the insides of your thighs. 

“You know, I was so sure I was going to have to slit your throat after this. And I didn’t want to, not when I knew you’d be tight, so sweet.” His voice is broken glass and black velvet, it cuts and soothes, wrings everything out of you before it forces you to swallow it all down, only restart the process all over again. 

“But now,” He sighs dreamily, whispering like he’s sharing a inside joke between two friends, “I have to keep you.”

when my husband proofread this he said i was sick. :)

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve smut #dark!steve x reader #dark steve x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!captain america #dark!fic #mcu smut #mcu x reader #slasher!au #slasher!steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #kinktober 2022 #kechiwriteskinktober #kechiwrites #cw: dark content #cw: noncon

[ang3lfluids]

mean vampire bf who doesn’t care if ur hurting when they pin u down and bite u :((

mean vampire bf who sweet talks you till your begging to be hurt

mean vampire bf who shoves their thick fingers in your mouth as you hump each other

mean vampire bf who bites your ankles and fingers so walking and writing is harder :(

mean vampire bf who records you creaming about the base of his cock, taunting you as you whined at him to stop

mean vampire bf who will use your panties to jerk off when ur gone then make you wear them out

mean vampire bf who gets off to seeing the light drain as he chokes you, loves when you whack at his back and arms trying to free yourself when he pins you down :3

————

AYATO, Laito, YUMA, Shuu, SCARAMOUCHE, CHILDE, DABI

#cw: dark content #dead dove smut #diabolik lovers #stranger things #smut #scaramouche #childe #genshin smut #diabolik lovers smut #stranger things smut #billy hargrove #yuma mukami #laito sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #my hero academia #bnha dabi

[nanamimizz]

𝐇𝚶𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝚬𝐑, 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝚶𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝚬𝐀𝐌𝐒

tags: 18+ minors dni, religious themes, corruption, virginity loss, somnophilia, sacrilege, fem reader, monsterfucking, f!oral receiving, missionary, dubcon, let me know if ive missed anything 2k.

synopsis: sweet sister don’t you know? the gods made devils stronger than any man. especially the devil that haunts your dreams.

As a sister of the cloth you find your day to be filled with a myriad of duties - but when the winds caress your worn form you find your heart bursting with pure gratitude to your patron god - for the children of Barbatos are as kind and gentle as the land of Mondstat itself.

Now if only the matter of your dreams could be as pure.

Lately, when the sun sets with the falcon of the west and the moon rises with the dragon of the east it seems your dreams turn with the cycles of the sun and moon. You wonder if Lord Barbatos can tell how the soft winds turn into storms within your mind. As a sister of the Church of Favonius your character is pure as the snow of the north - as is your body, free as the wind of any vulgarity but when your eyes close and you begin to drift the same figure finds you, waiting in the inky black bed of your dreams.

He’s handsome, hair the color of the night sky and violet eyes with skin kissed from the Sumeru sun. His form is thin but tall and lean, like a snake in the brush watching for any mouse to come close. It seems you are his mouse. He greets you the same, warm hands in your hair that is free from your headdress and that spills across your pillow. His touch feels kind, like the brush of a windwheel aster's petal in motion but you know it isn’t anything but.

“Found me again, have we?” He teases, mirth dancing around the silver star in his eyes where the ink spot of the pupil should be, you want to speak but your mouth feels like cotton so you shake your head. His hand wanders to your cheek, thumb rubbing at the full flesh and he smiles sardonically. He enjoys tormenting you, enjoys knowing you object but cannot voice it - after all this may be your mind but the dream is his.

“Don’t make that face dearest, you only dream of me because you long for me.” A nightingale-like voice echoes through your head, and his touch is lower now, fingers running along the bridge of your collar bone that is exposed by your simple cotton shift that all sisters receive for their private quarters. You shake your head again and his laugh rings through your ears like droplet ripples on water. He leans over, hair tickling your face with unnatural softness and he presses a kiss to the mole on the thin skin of your collar bone, his mouth blazing hot and you squirm - every touch feels tenfold here.

Chuckling down at you, despite the same dream he never tires of it - of you, with your holy pride and petulance it makes it sweeter to have you broken by the dream’s closing crescendo. His nose guides him to the rest of the soft, smooth, and vulnerable flesh that guards the most important veins in your body - he can smell your blood, sweet as wine and his teeth shine with hunger. His lips press kiss after fluttering kiss against you until you break into shivers and goosebumps, your weak, mortal form weakened against the sage-like touch of him. A part of him pities you, it’s not your fault the gods made the devil so much stronger than man.

The first sound that leaves you is a haunting whimper when the hand finally cups at your breast, fingers digging into the most pliable flesh yet - fingers tugging at the pebble of your nipple, the peak visible through the thin material of your shift and you squirm underneath more like a mouse in a trap. He laughs and brings you shame, eyes scrunched and press your cheek into the pillow at the mocking tone in his voice when he teases you,

“Must you be so loud? Don’t you know what the other sisters would say at how you whine at your tits being fondled? Shameful little thing you are.” Tugging the material down he grins at how more of your prized flesh spills, free before him. He resents how you swore to the cloth, with a body like this you were made to be debauched, made to be eaten and fucked and hoarded for no other but him. Well, he shouldn’t complain - you sit in the palm of a god but here you are to be defiled by him anyways. Mayhaps fate is crueler than any god.

Bringing his mouth to your teat he kisses on the nipple gently, his thin fangs you can only see when he lets you lightly run against the satin skin of your breast before his mouth sucks and he pulls from you pained whines of ecstasy. As your imprudent mouth gives him the songs he seeks to pull from you, your mind curses him out - curses this demon back from whatever hovel he crawled out from and he grins behind your teat when your hips begin their trembling. He can smell it, the growing slick between your thighs and the gusset of your underwear with abrupt clarity.

Pulling away he laughs at the state you are in, nipples puffy and lips bit raw, he continues southward pulling away the skirt of your shift and the star of his eyes twinkling with indecency at the wet patch visible on the white of your intimate wear. He abandons your chest for the greater prize, sweeter fruit to taste - his sinfully sweet voice tells you what he has never told you before.

“Kaeya is my name, sweet sister. Feel free to cry out for it instead of that little wind spirit you call a god.” You can even grasp the audacity of such a statement when his thumb, so cruelly rubs at the bump of your clit - your knees move to shut but like the gates of Babylon they are swung upon by the creature of the underworld that sits above you letting sinful temptation swing above your weakened mind. He - no, Kaeya lets his fingers pull away your underwear, whistling at the gossamer strings of slick that clung to the sodden fabric which then rips, the band still wrapped around your hips as he had tugged them away from you completely.

Night-colored hair then dips in between your thighs that are gripped by tan hands, the flesh dimpling under his fingers, and your head raises to cry out when Kaeya’s tongue laps at your slick cunt. Thin and long, the tip catches on the entrance of your hole and your hips jump futility, trapped by the ironclad grip this demon has upon your mortal flesh, and your moan is higher in ascendance even above the angels of Barbatos when he sucks at the glistening pearl of your clit. Heat grows at your stomach, and the suckling mouth at your cunt is the coal in the furnace of the all-consuming fire that flickers and flints and then burns through your veins.

Your ankles cross over his shoulders as your thighs give and shiver in his grasp and he hums in contentment - only for it to fuel even higher, weakened cries at the pleasure it brings. His face lowers, and your clit throbs at the lack of attention before something new catches your body off guard. Kaeya’s tongue, the terrifying thing that leaves you trembling like a fawn, prods at your fluttering cunt, breaching it and going deeper, deeper inside of you - petting, licking, fucking spots inside of yourself you never knew existed. The moans he makes at the sweet taste of your slick makes you simper, hips pressing closer to him as you cover your gasping mouth with your hand. His fingers, the deft and deadly things you’ve forgotten of abandon your thigh in favor to rub at your clit, and you half moan, half cry at the additional pleasure that makes your back bend in a bow’s arch - the flames turn to the sun and your cunt seizes around Kaeya’s tongue. He groans, back shuddering at how you flood his mouth, letting his tongue drown in your sweetness.

You pant and sigh, breath like a fog from your lips as you continue shaking in his grasp, the demon pulls away; you whine when your cunt clenches pitifully at the newfound emptiness that fills you and he barks a laugh - cruel and malicious. He drinks in your pathetic, newfound misery as he did your tangy cum and you see how his chin shines with it. Your thighs move to close but with speed you didn’t know could be granted he slots himself in between them and you squirm when your sensitive cunt presses against the hot and stiff rod of his cock.

“You didn’t think you could have your fill and leave me unattended did you?” Kaeya murmurs to you, eyes fixated on how your wetness clings to his tight pants. Your eyes are blown and your mouth shapes the words - “Please - no more.” He smiles sardonically and chuckles at your ravaged state. The bitemarks and bruises, your ripped underwear and half-done dress - did you really think this is how the dream would end?

“I thought generosity was a mark of a good sister _ would you truly turn me away after all that I had given you tonight?”

His cock pressed closer to your heart and you don’t know whether it was the orgasm that muddled your brain or that your heart, under the constant cycle of him coming into your dreams, leaving you with your thighs sticky with strands of desire that your heart has weakened to temptation but you concede. You nod your head, thoughts you’ve kept close under lock and key burst forth when Kaeya grinds his hips and you feel temptation in the shape of this beautiful man consumed with a strength that you realized that you will never be free from.

You spread your legs and nod.

He had tugged down his pants and his cock - long and straight leaves you breathless. Its mushroom head that flushes a darker red from all his bloodlust rubs against your floods in a way similar to his tongue. It’s inside you faster than you can blink but the stretch feels good. It doesn’t hurt the way the fishwives or mothers say it does, it makes you feel complete; it makes you feel divine. He’s flushed against you and Kaeya hisses at the tight clutch of your cunt that wraps around his cock in ways he’s only tasted. The work has paid its due, and now he can collect his reward like wheat to the sickle. His hips drive back and forwards, and he jostles you under the weight of his cock; you shuffle back and forth on the black bed and before you know it your thighs are in his grasp again - knees to his hips and ankles locked around his waist.

Sounds you make can be heard - you sound like a whore; moaning and whining in pleasure when the mushroom tip leaks, bumps, and fucks into the deepest places of your cunt. His body is on yours, back hunched to your front, and Kaeya kisses your neck with the passion of lovers as he fucks you with the hatred of enemies. You gasp into his ear, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders with venom and you hate how he moans, and you hate even more when it brings the sting of pleasure through your veins. The macabre dance between you two enters its final act, the swan song approaches and you feel his cock twitch inside of you and you bring a thumb to where he touched you last - blinding looking for the pearl of nerves that turns your blood to flame. Kaeya chuckles from your sweaty neck, slaps your hand away, and replaces it with his own and you mewl from how his fingers rub at your clit. He takes his face from your neck to watch you finish, the seizing of your thighs tells him you are at your limit.

“Kaeya…” you moan his name in reverence and he grins, eyes glittering like amethyst. All you can see at the peak’s edge when the band breaks and pleasure is all that finds you. You see the flashing white of teeth before it all goes back. The sun brings white to your vision and it dances with colored shapes.

The dream has ended. Dawn breaks,

Blinking it away, you try to rise from the bed only to wince from the ache in your stomach, bringing your skirt up you check at your thighs only to have a mix of dread and phantom pleasure flint through your stomach. Thereupon the unmarked, unseen flesh laid scratches from claws and the sign of cum - both yours and the milky white cum of another’s. Your flesh is warmed and the aches feel as pleasurable as they feel hellish. There’s a note on your nightstand. With shaky hands you unfold it, reading its content feels like having an arrow shot through your heart.

‘See you tonight, sweet sister. Or, if you’d prefer, come to Angel’s Share. Perfect name, especially for us wouldn’t you say?’ - Eagerly, Kaeya.

#lamb.writes #kaeya smut #genshin smut #cw: dubcon #cw: somno #cw: dark content

[bewaretheidiotsofmarch]

WIP

Nowhere near to being finished so I thought I'd post my halfway WIP for y'all.

( bloody mouth is censored for now)

I wanted to draw him in his final scenes, but show the tangible effects of the acid at the same time. So it's a visual representation of his immense pain, but the actual injury is not happening in that very moment.

#raoul silva #silva #james bond #tiago rodriguez #skyfall #james bond fanart #javier bardem #daniel craig bond #cw: dark content #dark themes