I have been MIA, for personal reasons, these condition may continue until one more year but I’m coming back and occasionally popping back with a request or two [ they are open btw, just will take me a hot minute ]
cw: fat cock, kinda of dacryphilia, uhh, blowjob. MDNI
hnghhh— wanna top geralt of rivia, he’s just been through so much, fought so hard, and i just wanna give him an opportunity to release all that stress :((
wanna kiss him, and his battle scars, run my hands through his locks, and his subtle, wanna go down on him, give him all my love and affection, gently kiss his thighs and kiss his tip and suck his twitching heavy fat cock :((
want him to let go of all the stress and responsibilities on his shoulder, and want him to experience pleasure, and want him to feel good.
want to grab his hand and put it on top of my head so he can guide me, and set the pace, want him to let go of all the stress, even if i choke on his cock, cuz im just too dumb over his fat cock, and don’t know how to suck a cock, even when i gag, and have tears run down my face cuz i cant please him right, want him to continue >:((
need him to tell me that im a good girl, his good girl, that im making him feel good, despite me gagging and chocking on his cock, cuz its so fat, and thick, yet he is feeling good, something about me being inexperienced and having doe eyes with tears streaming down my cheeks just does it for him.
want to try and stroke whatever I can’t fit in my mouth, trying with both hands to jerk him off, but not being able to close my fist around his length.
Should I catch up with the anime in one piece? For reference, I stopped at I think a bit after marineford, and picked up the manga, which I am caught up with.
but then again I did NOT enjoy fishman island arc, like the visuals were nice and all, and the crew is back together, and jinbe is there, but— it just doesn’t do it for me >:(
I could start when the crew meets back up together, i like that, makes me happy, punk hazard I like, desarossa I like but it’s too long, but like really nice and gets me in the mood, zou—I feel like experiencing the utter shock of the situation would be it, and I really like whole cake but I cry just thinking abt sanji in that :((( but also katakuriiii vs luffy I want to see that
Should I catch up with the anime in one piece? For reference, I stopped at I think a bit after marineford, and picked up the manga, which I am caught up with.
Hi ruris. Just discovered your fics recently it was devasting to see you got a little bit kudos and recognition of that hard work you put on that katakuri fic. I recommend adding specific tags like "yandere x reader" "character name x reader* or "series name x reader"
I know it's not enough. But I hope I was able to help you with this advice. Please never give up on writing and continue to grow ruri.
Thanks a lot anon! <3
I tell myself I will do that and then always forget, lol.
➳ pairing: yandere!charlotte katakuri x fem!reader
➳ summary: you adapt to your new life, and your husband shows you his biggest insecurity, your reaction surprises him.
➳ content warnings: mention of previous non-con, male mastrubation, inappropriate use of devil fruit, uhh..voyeurism? dubcon,fluff, insecurity, kinda of dom!reader/ sub!katakuri, uhh, emotional breakdown [?? idk, lol ] ooc katakuri, err marriage kink?? [ i seriously don't know ], oh! a bit of a breeding kink, a smidge of a size kink [ i mean come on, he a big boii ], emotionally vulnerable katakuri doesn’t know how how to deal with feelings, a smidge of food play, I guess implied virgin!katakuri, reader is shy yet shameless, handjob, blowjob, pussyjob, no mention of aftercare, kind of rushed ending, also first time writing actual smut
➳ word count: 8.7 k [ 8,751 ]
➳ author note: i have katakuri brainrot, and he needs some love, so it's a win-win situation. also unedited and kind of a rushed ending. Please mention any warnings I missed. Inspired by this ask. English isn’t my first language, and I accept constructive criticism and any advice :)
»»———- ♡̩͙ ———-««
It has been a while.
7 months since the wedding, maybe.
you aren’t allowed out often, the few times that you are out you are attached to him, your husband, quite literally by his mochi.
you find it ridiculous, a power that is so powerful due to its user, you saw him fight once and it wasn’t a fair fight, if you could even call it a fight.
whatever…
days tend to blend in each other, especially if its spend in just one room, sure it’s a huge room even while not compared to your ‘normal’ sized body, but there isn’t one to really keep you company.
sure, servants come and go to bring you food, clean and organize, but they don’t speak
well, not to you at least
which you also find ridiculous, you find a lot of things are quite ridiculous.
the first month was spent crying, thrashing, and escaping, trying to at least, he would always find you, or one of his siblings would.
you stopped trying to escape when he emerged from a literal mirror
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the second month was just spent…existing?
you were, are scared of him, you just spent it in a haze, you guess, you don’t remember much but you do remember the time you almost caught him with his scarf off.
It was by accident really, but before you could even glimpse at what was hidden you passed out, and woke up with an aching head, and flowers with a bunch of donuts on your side of the bed.
you didn’t really care what was under the scarf to be honest, but after that incident you went out of your way to avoid him if you even thought his scarf was off.
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the third month…, was when he ‘forced pleasure’ on you.
you guess he is a man after all….
he never did anything other than use his fingers, but even that was too much for you, if you would compare it, its like using a human cock.
well, that’s a lie…
he did use his cock once, just not his real one.
can you even consider a mochi finger shaped as one, a real cock?
you don’t want to think about it.
he never force himself at you, at least not in that sense, even when the budge in his leather pants looks so tight it may just burst.
he makes sure you are cleaned on clean sheets, then he gets off in the bathroom, and sometimes he doesn’t.
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the fourth month, is when you got invited to his mother’s tea-party, it was…nice, to go outside that is, the party itself was chaos.
believe it or not, you tend to fall into routine once you are kidnapped and aren’t allowed to get out of the room being held captive in.
so it was a breath of fresh air when you were let out of your room, and into the tea-party, and yes his siblings are a handful, and you are scared half to death from half of them , but it’s nice.
nothing much happened during the month, you don’t expect much.
…except that one instance.
he makes sure to come back at night, no matter how late the time is, he is always back, and he always gets up early, his side of the bed messy and the distant smell of him still present in the morning.
most of the time you are asleep when he gets back, sometimes you are not.
it was in the latter end that it occurred.
it was late at night, can borderline be considered a morning, no one is supposed to be awake, but you are
you were on your side, glimpses of a well-rested sleep taunt you as the door to the room opens, you don’t get up, you already know who it is, and you’re too tired to entertain his bullshit.
when you hear him call out to you, you don’t respond.
you would’ve called yourself foolish, if not for the fact that he doesn’t use his future-something-haki when he’s with you.
evident by the time, someone walked in when he was pleasuring you, and you never saw that servant again.
there is a rustling present, and it almost lures you back to sleep, except that he calls out to you again
you are annoyed, and very much on the verge of snapping at him, but you ignore it since you aren’t stupid, that is until you hear it
“darling, fuck—j-just like that”
is he…?
he wouldn’t…
“ah—you’re s-so—shit—so good”
would he?
“mmhm, you’re—hah—so sweet f’ me”
what are you supposed to do? do you turn around? talk? pretend to be asleep? ignore?
his pants continue mixed in with a couple of curses and groans, most of them are stifled and you hate that his voice alone sends blood rushing to your face and awaken a second rhythm within you.
you shift to test the waters, he doesn’t make an attempt to stop based on his noises, maybe you shouldn’t…
you ignore that part of you that says you shouldn’t, as the ‘squelnch, squelench, squelench’ drowns your thoughts.
you just wanna see, peek at his tip, see what the obscure sound is, surely his hands and cock aren’t the only thing that can produce such sounds, and bring him such pleasure, right?
it should be fine, right?
you’re his wife, it’s ok, right?
right?
right.
you slowly shift your body, trying not to make such ruckus that you do stop him, and his pleasure from escalating any further.
‘fuck it’ you think as you lay on your other side, eyes closed and make a sleepy sound, you hope it won’t deteriorate him or the situation.
his grunts don’t last another second, as everything around you stills, and silence fill the air, the sound of your deep breaths, and his harsh ones are the only thing present, seconds pass by and then-
hands are on your head, they trail to you cheek, and you feel one of his fingers trace lines on your cheek, and then they let go.
you don’t feel or hear anything after that, and you worry that you caused him to stop, and not reach his end.
not that you should care if he does cum or not.
that thought is interrupted by the noisy sound of slapping of his skin against something that continues, only this time faster and louder.
you are afraid to open your eyes, but that fear disappears when you hear his next words
“i’m going—fuck going to b-breed, you, be -hah- be a good w-wife and take it” accompanied by a loud moan.
all caution is out the window, as your eyes fly open, and what you see leaves you breathless and dripping.
there he is, charlotte katakuri, sweet commander, cold, merciless, the perfect brother, the man who brought you here, your captor and husband, fucking his fist.
his mochi fist, that looks like a cushion and is suspiciously moving along with his hips.
you don’t dare look up, eyes transfixed on his hips moving in and out of the cushion, his cock looks so big and you can even see its imprint —despite the dim lighting— from inside the makeshift cushion, his other hand is gripping the mochi with a death-grip, and you can only imagine what his face looks like.
you hate what the image does to you.
you hate the fact that you can feel your slick drench your panties, even more and then it occurs.
“f-fu—ck!”
holy shit.
you think you can cum from the image of him cumming alone, his hips stall in their movement as he cums, his thighs tense, yet shakes, and his cum spills into and out of the makeshift cushion or fleshlight or whatever; no other thoughts enter your mind other than that you want that thing to be you.
you almost scold yourself for the thought, but then he starts moving again and he do so with a whine you can’t watch it, you wish you could but you honestly think you would cum if you would do, so you take a deep breath and close your eyes.
that night you sleep to the sounds of him panting, and wake up to the same messy sheets with no evidence of the night prior other than the drench in your pants and an almost un-noticeable tear in his pillow.
it’s also the month when he starts to become least present.
sure he sleeps at your chambers with you, but he doesn’t visit or stay or talk, not like he used to, and you find it ridiculous.
you find it ridiculous that he makes you crave his presence, you find it ridiculous that he makes you miss him, you find it ridiculous that you cry yourself to sleep twice a week because of him.
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the fifth month, you snap.
he comes in one day, it's midday if you would assume, there are no clocks in your shared room so you have no way of telling, you are reading a stupid romance that can’t catch your attention, when the door open and the ‘clink, clink, clink’ of his steps appear.
you look up at him, as he shrugs off his jacket, and wanders to your shared closet.
you would have admired his back, if you weren’t so blinded with rage, you look at the mirror, think twice, shake your head then get up from your place.
you stalk towards the closet doors in the big room, and come face-to-face with his leg, oh what did you even expect?
you look up at him, as does he look down on you, he speaks first “darling? do you require anything?”
you stare, and stare and stare, a million thoughts rush into your head, a million more you want to scream at him, in the end just tears fill your eyes.
you sniff, gather all your strength and hit his leg, he may punish you but you don’t care, you are hurt.
“why did you leave?” another hit
“who do you think you are?” another hit
“you can’t j-just—just leave me like this!” another
“what? you can’t even spend time with me?” and another
“you’re so so…selfish!” another, and another and another, and then he bends down, and you break.
your eyes are closed, sobs recks your body and fills the air, your tears fall to the ground, and you probably look like a mess right now, but you don’t care.
your breath escapes in gasps, and you feel yourself being picked up, you’re so tired you can’t even yelp.
he brings you up to him, and when you open your eyes, blurry vision can barely see past his scarf, sobs, snot, tears, and even a bit of drool are falling all over his gloved hand.
god, you are so pathetic.
before you can wallow in more self pity, his other hand come to wipe at your face, and trying to save yourself from more humiliation, you go to help him, he doesn’t let you, and you don’t have the power to fight him.
your face is flushed, and you try to calm your harsh breathing that is broken by a few sobs.
once you have calmed down enough, he speaks, voice filled with an unknown emotion “I apologize darling, I hadn’t quite thought of how my actions may affect you”
you look up at him and hold his stare, after a few moments he pats your head.
you stare off at his scarf and decide to just spit it out before you chicken out “w-will you stay with me?”
his eyes soften, and you feel your heart flutter as the words “of course, my dear” are whispered into the air.
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the sixth month is…messy.
your relationship is improving somewhat, there are still awkward moments, not that you are the one to blame; after all it's not like you asked to be kidnapped.
it’s the month he lets you out the most, he takes you on walks, and strolls, he combs your hair once, well at least he tried, he makes you sleep on his chest that month, you refused at first, but he didn’t care and either way you both know that you can’t do anything about it.
you think that his chest is warm and smells like mochi, and you had asked him to take you with him when he went to do his work, surprisingly he did.
he makes you a mochi bed thingy, which you quite enjoy as it is very comfortable and bouncy. You stopped asking for it though, since he would become red in the face almost every time you did ask for one, and would sometimes leave you alone in the room.
you find being left alone ridiculous.
you find the fact that you miss him, more so.
you find yourself catching feelings, the most ridiculous fact of all.
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the seven month, this month is…
you are in your room, getting ready for bed, he isn’t here, however you find comfort that he would be in the morning, after all tomorrow is your anniversary, and he had made sure that he got the day off, well half-a-day but it’s better than nothing.
you are in your nightgown, about to get under the covers when he enters the room, and locks the door, which he doesn’t normally do, unless he leaves you alone in his office.
something is wrong
the air around him is tense, you can tell from the frown present on his face, and the slight rigidity of his movement confirms your suspicion that something is wrong.
you are debating whether or not to ask him when he sit on the bed, you blink and tilt your head, the question lingers in the air, you ask nonetheless “is something bothering you?”
he looks at you, you hold his stare, your frown mirrors his, it deepens when he sighs, he looks to the side.
this is new, he is usually…well, straightforward, blunt.
you sit upright when he mumble a “it’s nothing”
“katakuri…, what is it?”
he looks at you, off to the side again, back at you, closes his eyes, then sighs.
“kata—”
“I may be a monster, but I will always protect you, you may find it unpleasant, many before you have, however that won’t deter my affection for you…”
you are confused as fuck.
his eyes are on you, watching you as if you’re the only one that matters, and in that instant you feel like you are.
“it’s an unsightly matter, I will not put the blame on you, if you may wish not to view.”
what the hell does he mean?
he stops, and makes his way into the bed adjusting himself so that his face is near yours, and then he continues.
“this mark of shame that is constantly on me, i will not be saddened if you may not require to view it, again…”
you can see the intensity of emotions in his eyes, and despite all the words spewing out of his mouth, you think that you can get lost in the pretty amber.
“after all it is the reminder of my failure, a-as a brother, my imperfection…”
his hands go up into his face, you feel obliged not to look away, as if you owe him this, grips his scarf with one large hand, stays there, waits.
his breathing is hard, like he has been waiting for this moment, knows how it will end.
…and in one swift movement the barrier between the both of you is broken.
his eyes scan your face, as you do the same.
you want to laugh, honestly.
scoff at his face, and laugh at him.
for thinking all of that, and making a speech over some fangs.
it’s laughable, but you don’t.
laugh that is.
what you do is scan his face, his lips are kissable, his fangs are nice, gives him a charm about him, you wonder how they feel, are they pointy? or soft? could a nip penetrate the skin? you want to touch them, no you want them to touch you.
you want to feel them, really feel them, want to kiss them, want to feel them running down your body, want them to go up and down, want to feel them between your legs, nipping at your—
his scar stretches all the way up to his ears, and you never thought a scar could looks so attractive before, you want to kiss it, every inch of it, you want to run your hand through it, you wonder if the skin feels different there? would the texture feel different than his skin, his lips? how far is he willing to let you explore him?
you intake a sharp breath, his eyes flicker to you, right now though, right now, with his heated cheeks, laboured breath and flickering eyes, he looks so, so…
“cute.”
he blinks, you do too.
a blush.
“you’re so cute, katakuri”
your hand goes to his cheek, his eyes follows.
your thumb runs over his scar, it does feel different.
not bad…, just different.
he blinks at you, you can feel the heat rising to his cheek, when you look at him, he holds your stare for no more than a second then immediately invades it, you swore you saw a glimmer of tears there.
a few more beats and breaths, his hand stops you from touching his fangs, his eyes still haven’t caught yours.
“s-stop, it’s not—you may hurt yourse—”
his words are cut off by your hum, you can almost feel his doubt, guilt, he’s nervous, anxious, and you never wanted him more.
you slip your hands out of his, you take a large hand into your tiny ones and begin pulling it towards you as your words fill the air between you both
“you don’t believe me, hm? well, you can use your whatever haki, or…”
your eyes goes up, up, up, as the hand that you captured goes down, down, down.
“you can check for yourself…”
until it reaches below your nightgown and presses his enormous fingers into the damp spot, leaves them there.
you take a deep breath, consider your choices, this man is the one who took you, forced himself on you, you feared him for the longest time, he left you alone multiple times, felt like you were abandoned, but…
his eyes speaks volumes, there are tears and disbelief present, and that speech that left his mouth still makes it so that he is open, vulnerable
you want to take care of him, eventhough….
ah, fuck it, you think and then speak.
one.
two.
three.
“…my dear husband”
he intake a sharp breath, and stills, you swear you could see his eyes darken, his fingers push where you left them, which makes a surprised moan leave your lips.
and then you pull yourself up into him, your hands are on his cheek, a few beats then he looks at you, a frown on his face.
you pay it no mind as your lips crash into his.
a beat, then another, and another, then he responds, and oh, does he respond.
its inexperienced, messy, your lips don’t mold together, but god is it satisfying.
you don’t think you have been kissed like this before, you don’t think you will ever be kissed like this again, and in that moment you don’t think you mind it so much.
at first it's slow, then escalates and escalates, and then there is tongue, and spit, and drool, and teeth, and fangs.
you find out that the fangs do break skin, well at least the ones on your lips.
a beat, and a second, then a third, your heart throbs against your ribcage, and escalates until you are almost sure that he can hear it, you want to stay there forever, trapped into an infinite kiss but alas you are a human and you need oxygen.
you pull back, he chases after you, trapping you again against him, you smile, pull back, want to tease him yet his hand pushes your head pressing into him, he wants more and more and more.
he is greedy.
he is insatiable.
he is selfish.
but only with you.
only for you.
you put your hand on his jaw, he jolts, you break free, with only a string of spit trapping you to him.
pants escapes you, making you breathe harder, and harder, he isn’t in a better state than you, in fact you would say he is in a worse state.
drool escaping from the side of his open mouth, face flushed till his neck, you can swear there are hearts in his eyes, along with unshed tears—your heart clenches at the sight.
your lips brush against his, and he almost captures you again, if not for the grip you have on his hair, one tangled in his now messy hair, another grabbing at the nape of his neck, he groans as the grip you have on him causes you to pull on his hair. 
he presses his fingers into you, both of you are playing a dangerous game.
none of you mind.
“wait, kata…lay on your back.”
his eyes that were previously glazed with a haze clear a bit, yet there is a confused frown on his face.
“huh? b-but you—”
“shh, kata, let your wife take care of you for a split second, and relax.”
“come on, katakuri…” a peck on his lips, “be a good husband and lay on your back” another peck, this time near his fangs, “let me make you feel good” another peck, this time on his nose, his eyes flutter close at the contact.
with a groan he gets off you, and lays on his back on the bed, you follow after him, straddling his heaving chest.
your hands slowly travel along his abdomen, towards his pecks, slowly trace over each nipple, lingering there and then escalate towards his neck, to his jaw which is slack open for you, his eyes continue to follow each movement as your hands stay at his jaw a bit further.
you dully note that a past you would call you ridiculous, what you are doing is ridiculous, would probably shout at you, tell you that you shouldn’t do this with your kidnapper, the man who strike so much fear inside you, the man who hurt you for far too much, that you should hurt him just as much, and even if it was a lie call him ugly, disgusting, a monster.
you leave that part behind you whenever you press your lips to his jaw, trailing pecks over there, he jerks in your hands, you guess he is pretty sensitive there.
you hum, with a smile, and whisper in his ear “what’s wrong kata? did i hit a spot?” he shudders in response, and you get more wet at the thought that a man so big, powerful, and beefy is reduced to a shuddering and blushing mess with just a few touches.
Katakuri has no idea how to feel, or process the situation before him.
He didn’t expect your response in a million years, and the mere thought that you not only said those words but continued to mark him with your wet kisses and wandering hands makes his head spin.
and while surprise and bashfulness full him and heat his cheeks at the way you called him your husband—the tone, the hidden emotion, and the way you looked at him—he can’t deny that it turned him on, immensely.
perhaps he should feel more grateful for you and your reaction, however he can’t help feeling that maybe you do deserve to feel some level of disgust at viewing his face, that maybe you should have screamed, or that maybe you should have—oh
“Fuck”
“Hmm? now tell me dear husband of mine—” he almost whines “—where have i lost you”
he flushes more under your gaze that captures him feels like it will swallow him whole, it's lustful and full of want, he duly notes the effect you have on him, and that a past him wouldn’t be so appreciative that he is allowing himself to be weak and vulnerable.
but that’s ok.
because the past him doesn’t have you around.
because the past him doesn’t have you kissing down his tattoos.
because the past him doesn’t have you whispering hushed praises about him.
because the past him doesn’t have your lips kissing and licking down his body.
because the past him doesn’t have you willingly blushing and fumbling as you ascend his body.
because the past him doesn’t have you, just you, so tiny, and exposed to him.
his hands flex at his sides as you kiss down his happy trail, leading you to his prominent bulge that's straining against his leather pants.
you hum and look at him through your lashes, his breath catches in his throat, god he’s so weak for you, its almost pathetic.
Almost.
your tiny fingers go to his belt, trying to free him, yet as you fumble with the skull on his belt, his hands come to join you, he’s hesitant, you note “can you help me?” you encourage him and the blush is consistently increasing down his neck as he whispers a “yes”
you let go and watch in fascination the way his hands quickly and masterfully unbuckle his belt, then proceeds to remove his pants, your hands flies to his, “take those off too” you motion to his gloves.
he nodes then does as he is told, and you inspect them, you know how they feel, but seeing every little detail in them? appreciating how his hands are much bigger than yours? how are his fingers longer? knowing they could reach spots you never dreamed of experiencing?
god, they were pretty, looked calloused and rough, like they have texture, and the veins that ran down them, you could drool.
your thighs unconsciously rub against each other to gain some friction, but you remind yourself that this isn’t about you, it's about him.
“kata, kata, you’re so pretty..”
his closes his palms at that, and flexes them open, you can’t help it, your hands go to grab his fingers and bring them to your lips “can i?”
“yeah.” he says the word breathless, and you don’t wait a second before you put two fingers into your mouth, both of you groan at the contacts. Your hands goes to hold his hand and guide more of his fingers into your wet cavern, you suck on them and run your tongue under them, as response he presses on your tongue, weighing it down, you moan at the feeling, dragging his fingers backwards and forth, a few more times until you feel harsh breaths blowing into your face, you open your eyes that you haven’t even realised you closed, to meet amber ones.
Katakuri’s eyes were wide blown, watching the way your mouth sucks his fingers off like its a cock, and the way you seem like the simple act of having his fingers in your mouth has brought you pleasure, he couldn’t help it, he normally has enough self-restraint, but it was like his fingers had a mind of their own.
you are taken aback by the taste of a mochi-like substance that suddenly erupts in your mouth, and you stare at him yet find his gaze distracted at the way his fingers escape your mouth to make the liquid dribble down your chin and into his leather pants.
You swallow what you could of the liquid, and he watches with eyes of a predator as it gobbles down your throat, you lose yourself for a moment in his face, and once again you are captured by the beauty of the man infront of you.
Katakuri can feel the heat of your cunt on him, and the realization that he is the one who got you all hot and bothered turn him on more than he cares to admit, he can feel the weight of your gaze on him, and when his eyes flicker to you, he is stunned by you for a second, and just when he is about to be captured in your spell again its broken by your small “hi”, and he thinks you never looked more adorable than this, so flustered and tiny, cute little gasps escaping you, and the way you keep fidgeting around.
“Hey” his voice rumbles, a rare smile crossing his face, and the giggle that you let escape warms his heart a bit more.
The wholesome moment is yet again interrupted, by the gasp he lets out as you adjust yourself directly into his bulge, and the shocked expression, followed on by the smirk on your face lets him know that he’s in for real.
You continue your previous actions, and pull down your kata’s pants, he helps you by raising his hips and then continuing to pull them down further down, and yet again you are infatuated with the man below you. The way his thighs are flexing and twitching, they looked so muscular and you find yourself wanting to bite them, kiss them, and worship them, yet the only thing that you find more delicious is the way the now much larger bulge is wet, you’re not even sure if a man can spare that much pre, without cuming.
You wont lie, you are intimidated by his size, that isn’t fully revealed, yet you find yourself strangely aroused, you’re not even sure why, thus before you can back out, you pull down his boxers, and your jaw drops.
The way he almost slaps your face as he springs up, only to be hung down by the sheer weight of him, the way he has veins running up and down his shaft, the way he is continuously twitching and the way he throbs, the angry red tip that is all but leaking delicious pre, all that and more makes a second rapidly fast heartbeat in you awaken, and all you can think is that you want him i– no.
you need him inside you.
“Darling, y-you don’t have to do this if you–oh fuck” he is cut off by your mouth leaching on his tip, and sucking on him, you can’t fit him inside you, yet you hollow your cheeks and push more of him into you.
Katakuri is convinced he has died and ascended to a heaven-like place for monsters like him, not only is he feeling toe-curling pleasure, he is receiving it all from you, and katakuri has never felt more loved as he does now.
Laying on his back, with you pleasuring him, and both of you having such a vulnerable yet intimate moment, he would have never imagined this the day that you came into his life, not by the way you reacted at first, screaming and thrashing all around.
No, he was fully prepared to live all his life loving you while you hated him and despised him, you are his everything, and as he gasps at the way you littered him with kisses, all wet and sloppy, he can swear that he has never felt more loved and in love than in this moment.
You lick up the pre from the underside of his cock all the the way to his tip, where you kiss it, before smearing some on your lips, you lick your lips as you watch the way your hands continue to pump him, he’s so big, both your hands can’t even fit around him.
“You taste so good kata, like mochi” you giggle at the sound that escapes him at that statement, before going back to licking and sucking him, one hand goes to his balls, while the other sneaks its way to rub at your embarrassingly wet panties.
You close your eyes shut, as you hear the few groans that he lets out, his mouth otherwise covered by his hand, you would have told him to let you hear him, if you couldn’t feel that he was close.
You try your best to relax your throat, its painful you won’t deny but you know you will be rewarded with the sight of him cumming, so you push through, you force your muscles to relax, to fight the discomfort, you bring both hands to stroke his twitching length, you try what you know, your drool and his previous pre helps serve as lube.
Your eyes snap to him, intent on watching him climax, katakuri’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, his mouth is covered by one hand, drool escaping the side of it, his other hand gripping the pillow beside his head so hard that you worry about it for a moment, yet the best treat of all is his eyes, rolled to the back, and if the light focused just right you could see the tears mark down his flushed cheeks.
it’s all too much for you, and yet it proves the same for him as his hips suddenly jolts, with a keen moan–more like a whimper of your name–and then he cums, it’s sweet, yet thick and is too much, your eyes water trying to swallow as much as you possibly can, however it proves futile as after a few seconds you’re getting off him, choking and gasping for air, you try to get your breathing under control, and when you do, it’s when he just finished cumming.
Katakuri does not recall what happened the moment his orgasm has him, all he know is that the pleasure was too much, and then he was seeing stars, he barely registers the sound of choking, nothing but pleasure that he never has felt before registers in his veins, it’s as if every fibre of his being is experiencing it, and he thinks he passed out for a few moments, he cannot recall.
All katakuri knows is that by the time his eyes are opened again, he feels at easy yet so ridiculously sensitive for the first time in his life he doesn’t have the words to describe how he feels, only that he was feeling an after-glow of pleasure he can’t comprehend however that was contracting the look on your face, your eyebrows are crossed in a frown, and you had your hands holding the side of his face.
your thumb rubbing his cheek, which was a weird sensation, not unpleasant…just different; he feels exposed, like he is showing something meant to be a secret to everyone and everything around him, yet he never more close to you than at that moment, and he quite liked that, he liked having you and him alone, intimate, vulnerable together, to be able to indulge in each other like this has to be a blessing, or divine intervention to have an angel like you gifted to him.
“You’re drooling, kata”
He didn’t think he had the energy to blush even more, nevertheless you prove him wrong once again in the same night, yet the sound of your laughter makes it worth the temporary embarrassment, without him noticing a smile stretch into his face, he feels safe and content with you.
But then he remembers, “darling?”
“Kata” he can hear the smile in your voice, he takes both hands in his, and your smile flatters a bit, “what’s wrong? Did you not like it?”
He shakes his head, before pressing his lips to your palms, he’s careful not to graze you with his fangs. “No, i did, i enjoyed it quite a lot, frankly”
“Then what's wrong, do you-”
“Darling, rest, i just…”
“Hm?”
“Well, i–you, i want to return the favour…i need to make you feel good” he feels like a fool, stumbling over his words like that.
“...you don’t have to do that”
“No, I want to, I need to bring you pleasure, as the one you have brought upon me, only if you are comfortable with that too. darling , do you want this?”
“Yeah” it's breathless, the way you say it, just like he previously did and the way your lips are, it’s like every movement you make is to tempt him, tease him, it feels like a trap, and even if it was, he would gladly fall into one, if it's for you but now, now he wants to kiss you.
So he does.
You’re surprised for a moment, and he thinks that he did something wrong, before you respond back, with the same intensity. It's passionate, full of electricity and emotion, it's like two lovers have met after a long time. It's pleasant, but then it’s not. It quickly escalates, until it’s all drool, teeth and tongues clashing with each other, it’s like taking a bite out of a forbidden fruit, something that you know is wrong yet feels good, too good, both of you want more, so more you take of each other, until the moment you can’t go longer with oxygen is reached.
God, this must be the millionth time you kissed him tonight, yet you can’t get enough; you want to makeout with him forever, his lips are addicting, and the way his fangs feed that addiction is unmeasurable.
Somehow during that process katakuri managed to get rid of your nightgown, you don’t even notice until you feel one of his hands creeping up your back, and that sends signals down your spine.
The way his fingers are delicately running up and down your back, and fiddling with the strap of your bra leaves goosebumps down their path that you are sure he can feel, you would be too occupied with the thought of that if it weren’t for his lips that are moulding against yours.
You let out a gasp that is swallowed by his tongue, as he manages to get you out of your bra, he keeps a hand on your hips, holding you still with one and the other one goes to your cheek pulling you away but not before ending it with a peck on your lips, you try to deepen it drunk off the taste of him but he doesn’t let you, instead he chuckles at the whine you let out and the sound goes straight to your core.
“patience, pretty…” his voice is sharp, deep, and sends tingles all over your body, the ability of his voice and the entirety of him that has a hold on you can’t be denied any longer, no matter what you try it always catches up to you.
katakuri ‘s thumb rub over your bottom lip, teasing you, everything stalls for a moment, it's like there’s only you and him, he looks majestic like this, almost heavenly, the way his amber eyes are gazing at you, almost devouring you, and then the cold air hits you, and you realize your bra has abandoned you, almost instantaneously his eyes widen with an emotion your brain cannot decipher.
Your hands go to cover yourself, suddenly feeling shy and bashful under his intense gaze, he doesn’t say anything for what felt like forever, until he grasps both of your wrists in one broad hand, and rubs circles into the back of your hand.
The other hand still trapping you against him, almost like he needs you two to be close, intertwined with each other, desiring you, becoming selfish and indulging himself for once, and yet he will be selfish, if it's with you, never once daring to think of a warm embrace, a chance to rest, to be vulnerable with no judgement, he needs you, and you need him. It’s a simple fact, yet one that seems as a sin, and yet, yet…if a monster like him is to be able to serve you, bring you pleasure, will it be less of a sin?
“Darling, don’t hide from me..” he sounds almost hurt, as if the mere thought of you thinking you’re undesirable brings him pain, as if you’re anything less than perfect, the mere thought of you not seeing yourself as he sees you, not being treated like you deserve to be makes a flame lit inside of him, he needs to show what he sees through his eyes when he dares lay his gaze on you, and he starts by pulling your hands away.
The hand on your hips brings you further into his chest while the other lets go of your hands, not before placing a kiss on each of them, your hands land uselessly into his pecs, as his mouth graze the tender flesh on your breast, hesitantly he begins placing kisses there before taking a nipple into his mouth, the euphoria you feel from such a simple act causes your hands to press down on him, and such a simple act makes you feel a heartbeat raising under your touch.
He gains courage the longer he keeps nursing on you, one hand is already playing with your other nipple, teasing you as he rolls it in-between his fingers, he’s good at this, almost too good. A choked moan escapes you at a particularly hard twist accompanied by sharp fangs scraping your skin, it’s too much and yet not enough, your hands somehow found their way into his hair, pulling at him, and you feel rather than hear the growl that follows your actions.
“katakuri, please” your voice comes out more pathetic than you would like, yet you don’t have time to dwell on it, as he releases the bud from his mouth with a ‘pop’.
He leaves a wet kiss into your other nub before whispering against it “no one else likes seeing me like this” Your hands grips his hair harder, pulling him away from your chest, his eyes unhoded and hazed with lust takes a moment to adjust to yours, ignoring the way his saliva and cool air makes your nipples stand hard you took in a shaky breath to arrange your thoughts.
“…stop” you don’t know what else to say, this is the same man who kidnapped you, and took you by force, and yeah sure your feelings for him developed into something, but it’s complicated.
it’s within your right to be upset at him, you should curse him and after all the things he had done to you, be ingratiated to be within his vacenitg yet you can’t bring yourself to do it, you look at him and his eyes stare back at you.
There it is again, that look in his eyes, it makes you want to scream, why? why? why?
You can feel tears brim near your eyes, he blinks at that once, twice, “stop, just stop!” it comes out more than a sob than you would like, yet you can’t do anything about it, you don’t want this, you don’t—
Katakuri’s lips are on yours, his knuckles brushing against your cheeks, other hand on your back, pushing you more into him, fitting like two pieces of a puzzle, connected, pulling away just to whisper sweet nothings against your lips, apologizes spill from him, and continue doing so as his kisses trail down your jaw and into your neck, his fangs scraping along them, neither painful nor pleasurable, just applying pleasure.
You gasp as wet kisses are being planted into your collarbone and descending further downwards, yet not fast enough, large large hands busy themselves by pushing you into him, other hand hovering on your thighs, hesitant, before grabbing a handful of them.
“kata, please…” It's amazing how a couple of words can make your husband snap, as soon as these words are let out into the air, his grip on you tightens where it can almost be considered painful.
He drags you closer to him, and the feeling of countless hard years of training runs deliciously against your clothed cunt. Your moan is wet and full of sound as the first real friction of the night is received by you. Familiar fingers push your ruined panties to the side before proding against your entrance, they move slowly coating themselves in your juices before plunging into you.
The wanted touch of his makes your back arch, and suddenly your back hits the mattress, and his mouth is on your nipples again, it’s all too much stimulation, the way his fingers is constantly moving in and out of you, the way his tongue leaves marks and kisses everywhere, the hold he has on your hip bone preventing you from running away from his ministrations.
Too much.
Too much pleasure, it's almost painful.
And yet.
Yet you want more.
Need more.
Your thoughts are in a jumbled mess, and it takes way more effort than you would care to admit to speak, still you do; because as his desire for you is insatiable, so is yours for him.
“W-wait, wait, please stop!” his hands stall almost immediately, he detaches his lips from your body, and his hand is again in your cheek rubbing soothing circles into your cheek, which you lean into, before meeting his gaze.
It’s full of worry, his brows furrowed, a pout on his flushed lips—really all of him is— before asking in a whisper, as to not startle you “are you alright, darling? have I gone too much? Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”
You feel bashful under his gaze, and the way he is so concerned for you, you try to regulate your breath, but you want it so bad, need it in you. “Hah- god no…no, no, I-I wanna cum on your cock…”
“Darling.., I–We can’t…”
Katakuri feels bad for the frown on your face, he doesn’t want to deny you it saddens him and as he watches a frown settles on your face, your lower lips wobbles, it pains him to see you like this and he is ready to apologize again, offer you another option to bring you pleasure as the one you brought him, yet his thoughts are interrupted again by you.
“We– you don't have to put it in…” your voice is small, mumbled but he is sure that he had heard you, he is confused for a moment before you say again, your voice wavering “you.., I can just rub it against me..” your hands immediately goes to your face.
He doesn't say anything, too stunned to say anything, his mind is running around trying to figure out how that will be possible.”We–we don’t have to do it…it’s ok, just forget I said anything” God, he really is terrible at this whole thing, however he won’t let his inability to express himself to you get in his way.
“Yes.” you sniffle and peek between your fingers to look at him “Whatever you want, just show me how to please you and I will.” The way he says those words makes your heart skip a beat and butterflies erupt in your stomach.
You whine as he pulls your hands away from your face, he kisses them as an apology, before his breath hits your face, “whatever you want…” he whispers, so genuine and full of emotion that you almost burst out crying, but you don’t, and the only thing that manages to slip out of you is a tiny “uh-huh”
He pecks your lips, and looks at you expectantly “lay back” he does as he is told, slowly manoeuvring his way so he is sitting with his back to the headboard. His cock is semi hard, laying on his stomach twitching every other second.
Katakuri watches you intently as you fix yourself on top of him, keeping a hand near your hips to support you whenever you need it.
Your hands go to grab his cock, coaxing a bead of pre from him, his groan makes you clench, impatiently wanting to have him against you.
“Hah, you can touch katakuri, help g-guide me” you say breathing harshly, it’s not like you can go around his whole length by yourself, you need some form of assistance.
His hands grab your hips, thighs spreading widely to accompany his size, helping you align yourself with his cock. Your clit is swollen and twitching, desperate for some sort of stimulation, his precum serves as lube mixing in with both of your juices.
Your hands are on his abdomen searching for stability before you make contact with him, an embarrassingly large moan a result of that
The drag of him feels heavenly, your eyes don’t tear away from the sight of where the both of you are mixed, your lips are spread open, you can feel every vein on his shaft, every throb of him, the entirely of him, you slid easily against him, the pre of him helping you in accomplishing that.
Your breathing is harsh, biting your lips to conceal your moans before wet lips press against yours, you gasp unsuspecting of your husband's actions, before reciprocating trying to shove and mold your tongue against him
He pulls away just just for you to chase after him missing the familiar warmth, he doesn’t let you, capturing your jaw in his hands, cupping them before breathing into them, you’re practically breathing each into each other and sharing the same breath.
“Please…” you’re not above begging and thus you find yourself with a thumb in your mouth and his dark voice whispers into your ear “don’t hide, darling, speak to me, let me hear you…” you don’t think, you just nod, desperate to have him against you again “i need to hear you say it darling…”
“I-I won’t hide…just please” He can never deny you, your head is thrown back yet you can feel his gaze on you, moans escape both of you—an indicator and reassurance of the pure bliss and ecstasy you both are feeling.
He guides your hips making you feel the drag of your clit, so puffy and desperate against his cock, feels like paradise to you, the only thing that would feel better is having him inside of you—but that’s for another time.
You’re enthralled to have him like this, countless nights you have been spending thinking of a moment like this, with him, charlotte katakuri.
Your husband.
You can feel the coil in your stomach reappearing, you won’t last long—that you know, yet as you look down on your panting husband you feel the need to hold off your orgasm a bit longer, in hopes of seeing him cum.
His face is concentrated, and all scrunched up, the warmth of your cunt against his frustrated cock is nothing like he had imagined, and he distinctly notes that he can’t go back to a mochi cushion after feeling you since he can never replicate the feel of your pussy, something so divine.
Any sense of rationality katakuri has disperse as he hears your voice, high pitched, whiny and desperate—so heavenly to him “I’m gonna cum, please, wan’a cum, fe—ah!—feels good”
Your hands dig into his skin, and his speeds up, frustrated desire accompanies him, intent on watching you unfold before his eyes, he can feel his end too, never imagining something like this could feel so good.
“Go ahead and let go” and just like that with a broken moan the coil in your stomach snaps, it feels beyond heavenly to be rewarded after such a long time, and katakuri keeps you upright with a hand while the other still stimulates you, makes you ride off your orgasm and he keeps going even your orgasm washes over you in waves, it’s too much stimulation for your brain and body, no coherent thoughts are present in your body “too much, ‘s moree pleaseee….”
“Fuck.” with a curse word that seems too improper for your husband, he manages to cum for the second time of the night, semen splattering all over his stomach, his grip on your is the only thing keeping you stable from falling into his heaving chest.
The afterglow of your orgasm basks you into sleep, you’re sure when you wake up in the morning your body will be filled with bruises and an ache in your muscles, but you can’t seem to focus on that with the way your husband’s voice lures you to sleep, baking you and consuming you whole.
“Darling, you did so good, I didn’t hurt you, did I? Was I too rough? Do you require a—“
How do you write so well? I also want to write and find my own style but i always end up deleting my works because I can't bring myself to like them. They are too simple or too repetitive. It would be great if you could offer me some advice. (If you don't mind.)
hey anon! thanks for reaching out, hm...honestly, i struggle with liking my own work too, i guess we're all our own biggest critics :( and i can only speak from my own experience so my word isn't law haha but ive compiled some of my thoughts on this + some citations i think could help add perspective:
read as much as you can and study the writing you like: goes a very long way. if you like distinctive styles of writing like with prose and such then find writers who are known for that, off the top of my head—proust, joyce, brontë, tolstoy, cervantes, etc etc. but always explore, read non-fiction, read a script, read poetry. analyze themes, characters, dialogue ...or don’t? sometimes reading is an experience, not mental gymnastics, but take in how you feel about the stuff you read and digest them.
“The first, of course, is to read. It’s surprising how many people think they want to be writers but they don’t really like to read books… — From 'This is Octavia Butler’s best writing advice.' by Vanessa Willoughby. Read on LitHub / 'An Interview with Octavia E. Butler' by Randall Kenan. Read on JSTOR
"You need to study what writing requires. Writing has rules, conventions, requirements. There is form. Writing is more than your thoughts about characters. Drama has structure. You can learn." — Excerpted from Miss Chloe: A Memoir of a Literary Friendship with Toni Morrison by A. J. Verdelle. Read on LitHub
observe: listen to conversations around you, the way people talk and react to things, the way they interact with one another. expressing and repressing. or watch films, what do images and scenes look like in your mind. i learned a lot about transitions and flow from movies. take things from the world around you. find what inspires you to write? i usually listen to music!
characters: if writing fanfic is your thing then take the time to think about the characters, their motives, desires, weaknesses, etc etc. read the source material or read hcs and form your own opinion.
"Events, in and of themselves, have no meaning. Lightning striking a vacant lot is pointless; lightning striking a vagrant matters. When an event adds a character, suddenly nature’s indifference fills with life." — Excerpted from CHARACTER: The Art of Role and Cast Design for Page, Stage, and Screen by Robert McKee. Read on LitHub (read this once for a creative writing class and thought it was really helpful)
it’s all in the little things: have fun with the details, think about the way a room is lit in the afternoon, or the way a ripe mandarin orange tastes, smells, you could also describe it in action—citrus and pulp and a zesty rind that spits from beneath your fingernails—fill in the blanks with texture and colour and give them a life of their own.
"If you are going to describe a spoon or a chair or a tv set, you don’t want to simply set these things into the scene and let them go. You want to give them some weight, connecting these things to the lives around them." — From 'An Interview with Raymond Carver' by Larry McCaffery and Sinda Gregory, 1985. Read on JSTOR.
(finding the balance between vomiting out descriptions and knowing when to leave things as they are is a struggle for me haha, i get caught up way too much on crafting atmosphere when all the scene calls for is like a sentence or two... i guess its about knowing which is more important, keeping in mind pacing and such too. but im a big believer in instinct, you’ll know whats better for a scene when you read it like fifty times and think... 'maybe geto’s internal monologue and a valid ‘heart beating wildly in his chest’ is enough..’) <3
re: writing styles: ultimately has to do with your personality and how you see the world/the scene you're conveying to an audience. i suppose style stems from the way you weave and thread words together, how you place one word after the other. i think it’ll come to you the more you write, rather than aiming for style, start with the story and the way you look at things.
A unique and exact way of looking at things, and finding the right context for expressing that way of looking, that’s something else. . . . Every great, or even every very good writer, makes the world over according to his own specifications. It’s akin to style,... but it isn’t style alone. It is the writer’s particular and unmistakable signature on everything he writes. It is his world and no other. This is one of the things that distinguishes one writer from another. — From “A Storyteller’s Shoptalk,” by Raymond Carver published in The New York Times in 1981.
let your writing be something else, just not yours (in the best sense): sometimes the hardest thing is knowing that your writing will forever be tied to you, there’s a sense of ownership there, like a mother who’s birthed a child after a whole nine months, you’ll work on something for the longest time and not want to give it to anyone, but it has to sort of...get out there. and not every piece of writing will be a precious baby, sometimes it’s just an onion in your garden you found and thought to use in a stew, but the point is that eventually, it’ll belong to the world should you choose to post it. letting it go is catharsis. when i don’t have to look back on it, i can just write the next thing. even if you don’t intend on posting it, i find that i could always just leave things in the drafts, in a document folder, in scraps of paper, and move on to the next thing. i know i can always come back to it.
i guess...you just have to write? one word after the next until you’ve filled up a page or more. the difference between crafting a beautiful sentence you’re satisfied with and a repetitive, simple one is a whole lot of trial and error + practice (and suffering).
“The only sentence that matters is the one you’re writing.” Do not look ahead two or three sentences, thinking, Oh, but wait, I have to get through two or three more of these sentences before I can get to the really good stuff. Make the sentence you are at the place you are at, and make it a place of stone and steel, not a place of sand and clay. Fashion this sentence out of what has gone before on your page, always moving forward by looking back. Turn, swerve, torque and twist upon what you have written, finding new ways to render your object, and through these maneuvers, finding the way to write your heart out. — From 'The Gordon Lish Notes' by Tetman Callis. Read here.
eventually, you’ll look at the stuff you hate and find ways to make it better, and even then maybe you won’t be completely happy with it but i think it’s important to note that it’s a rather harrowing thing because you’re staring at it wondering if it’s something to be shared...that’s a lot. ultimately i feel it’s perfectly fine to write because you enjoy it, of course, some might say it doesn’t have to be perfect, but because you want it to be good, there needs to be a sense of care and responsibility to make it so.
You write as well as you can and hope for good readers. But I think you’re also writing for other writers to an extent—the dead writers whose work you admire, as well as the living writers you like to read. If they like it, the other writers, there’s a good chance other “intelligent, adult men and women” may like it, too. — From 'Raymond Carver, The Art of Fiction No. 76' by Mona Simpson & Lewis Buzbee for The Paris Review
sending you love and cheering you on! i hope you find this helpful in some way!
