How would the yanderes react if their darling was the one to initiate intimacy/sex for the first time, and how do you think their darling would come to that point? (stockholm syndrome? being touch starved/deprived as punishment? etc.)
thirsty ! BNHA imagines
TIP-JAR
goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon/dubcon, abuse, profanity, anxiety, guilt, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mind control
BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN
-ADDICTION
She was riding for dear life, chasing that light at the end of the tunnel.
Eyes tightly squeezed shut as she hopped up and down, sliding upon Bakugo’s impressive girth, moaning each time his tip poked into her cervix as she clapped down onto his lap again and again and again and again, harder and harder, deeper and deeper, hitting knew spots upon new spots, messaging uncharted territory, rearranging her organs, poking and prodding and fitting so snuggly and perfectly inside her she could all but start crying from the bliss of it all.
She was crying. Hot tears streaming down her cheeks, numb with how warm she was, feverish and febrile and growing madder with pleasure, drunk and drowning in euphoria.
“Fuck.” He stuttered out his gruff moan, barely holding onto her hips anymore.
He'd been inspired and insured that it would be fine to let her move on her own now, knowing he’d made it clear enough she wouldn’t be going anywhere without him being satisfied first, thinking she was showing so much enthusiasm simply to make him come quicker.
He hadn't yet sensed how desperately she was chasing the same release he was, especially since he’d already made sure she came twice before they even started. Once on fingers, once on his tongue. He wasn’t at all thinking she was preparing herself for a third time, especially not on his cock.
Having left her to do all the work for a while now, having been rendered completely blissed-out and awestruck with feeling her eager movements on top of him, he couldn’t really care much for how pathetic a mess he must have looked beneath her.
His eyes scrunched together to hold onto every sharp movement of her hips, lips pursed out and puckered with his grit-teeth, his cock standing proudly, pushing into her again and again at such a fast pace he was barely able to feel his climax coming dangerously close, too numb with pleasure to part it from his release, but as his balls were emptying inside her he shot up into a sitting position in favor of lying down, needing to hold her still so he could pump his load without it spilling, arms reaching around her to keep her pushed down and impaled on him.
She tried humping for more friction even in the tight secured lock, rocking into him, kept snug against his chest, trying so desperately to reach with his cock what was screaming inside her.
He made some indication he was done. His thick arms losing their grip around her torso, head resting on her shoulder as he panted, not yet understanding what hell or heaven he was in for, taken by surprise, by overwhelming panicked surprise.
“No!” She roared out her little whine. Her smaller hands protruding nails digging into his chest to push him back down on the bed, then continuing to ride despite feeling him tense beneath her.
He tried moving again, fearing, panicking because of his overstimulated cock being continuously pleased almost enough for it to be painful. The hunger already quenched being kept fed, drowning the thirst, so much he felt as though something might burst.
Her hands moved to yank his hair, pulling him back to rest on the pillow, her other hand pushing, seizing around his throat, violating his Adam’s apple, forcing him to gasp as he choked both on the action itself but also at the sheer controversy of it all.
Her mouth hovering above his own as he groaned from the pain of having his hairs ripped from his scalp and his vocal cords abused, whereas she only moaned in return, too concerned with feeling every inch of her being on fire to care.
“Oh fuck, please, Katsuki, please, more.”
Something tight tugged in his pelvis at the same time awe blossomed in his chest at the sight of her and those pretty eyes looking at him with tears and that sweet crinkle of plead between her brows.
His name dripping from her tongue like honey as she continued going up and down the length of his oversensitive cock, slipping even easier in now when coated in his cum. Her thighs sticking to his in juices as her head dipped to lay against his chest while she continued slapping, jumping on his cock with an unrelenting, unsatisfied determination.
His cock throbbed inside her, nearly crying, screaming with something playfully akin to aching, a pressure building again even as he thought it impossible.
She was stabbing herself with his cock, squeezing and seizing and fluttering around the blade, driving him mad.
But as soon as he got over the feeling of bursting, could he pull himself back.
Grabbing her waist and hoisting her off him, she nearly sobbed at the loss of contact.
He pouted in mimic, condescendingly. “Is the little slut begging for more?”
He grinned maniacally as he mounted her, surprised to see and feel her desperately trying to get closer as he pushed her down into the sheets beneath him, lining himself up with her sopping greedy cute little cunt.
He only teased for about a moment more before impaling her on his length once again, pushing all the way into her in a mere swift second, dragging a real pornstar-beautiful moan from her, gleeful to see her squeal with pleasure as he began thrusting into her sharply, angled to hit that sweet blissful spot inside her.
“Be a good girl and cum for me again.” He growled and she swore she felt it like thunder in her stomach, like explosions, like lightning striking. “That’s what you want isn’t it?” The frenzy in his voice, once only terrifying, now made her toes curl and her head feel like cotton. “You want me to make you cum? You want to cum on my cock like a good slut? My slut? Come on, cum for me.”
She was being fucked completely silly.
Tongue falling from her mouth along with a string of wet moans and drool and his name. Her eyes swimming with tears as she tried focusing on his and the gut-churning look of feral dominant lust in the heat of them that had her pussy clenching around him, yet was barely able to hold his gaze as she was being fucked into a cross-eyed mess, feeling the pressure build and build and build and getting so close to bursting she was crying with how she was being kept from her climax by some unknown cruelty.
She just needed him to go harder, go faster.
She just needed more, she just needed him, needed him and his glorious cock to help her.
MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU
-APOLOGY
“I hate you!”
It slipped before she was able to stop it, before she could reconsider, before she could save herself.
She watched with terror-wide eyes locked on his, awaiting whatever awful murderous intent he chose fit for her punishment, and was at once trembling.
Knees growing weak, apologies falling broken on her tongue as her fear’s need to cry outweighed her wish for recovery, resulting in simply blubbering on her sobs. Small frail hands reached out in protection, in a timid means of making him give her a second to gather herself as she fell apart with the painful fear that clenched around her heart, making it hard to breath, making it hard to see, hard to stand, hard to think, hard to do anything except for gasp for air, air that seemed to not want to enter her lungs quick enough.
“Hey, hey… breathe.”
She hadn’t even realised she’d collapsed, nor that Izuku had come to catch her fall, rocking her back and forth in his arms, head resting in his palm. Her eyes wide and frantic as she looked up at him for help, helpless in her crippling anxiety, anxiety he was the trigger of and seemingly the only source of comfort as well.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I take it back, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, please, forgive me, forgive me!” She gulped on shuddering breaths, sobbing, hysterical in her scrambling, so completely panicked, so utterly destroyed by her fear of him, knowing how those hands of his could hold the world just as easy as her head and her heart, where despite knowing that through and through she still sought out the comfort in how his fingers stroked through her locks, petting her calm.
Her hands, retrieving more and more mobility, reached up to fold across his back.
“I don’t hate you, I’m sorry, I’m just stupid, forgive me, I’m just ungrateful and spoiled and stupid.”
Tears rolled down her face as she propped herself up in his lap, hands desperate as she intertwined them in his locks, fervently trying to make up for her mistake, trying to prove she was able to correct herself, that she didn’t need another lesson, another one of his mind-shattering bone-crushing lessons.
The fact that he’d forced her into a perverted set of lingerie had fallen to waste, the fact that he’d been lecturing her about how she belonged to him, how she had no right to disobey him, how she was just a dumb little girl in a world too big for her to ever possibly understand, how she was good for nothing but being stress-relief for him. None of that mattered anymore.
What mattered was persuading him into taking enough pity on her to let her indiscretion slide.
She just needed to beg enough, she just needed to grovel and plead and cry enough.
“Sweetie…” He hummed, no anger present in his voice, but then again, there never was. Tone always laced or dripping with honey, giving no hint as to where his mindset was or what he was about to do.
And all it managed to do was make her cry harder, hold onto him tighter, fear climbing higher.
“It’s okay, Sweetie… I know you didn’t mean it.”
His words were all but reassuring, as she was waiting for the other side of the coin to show its face, waiting to hear his but’s and if’s and punishments and corrections, waiting for those hands of his to show her, to prove to her what she already knew yet let herself forget, that she was a small helpless stupid girl and he was nothing short of god.
“But…”
And there it was, her worst fear, her worst nightmare, all sounded in one word.
She couldn’t let him continue, and by god she couldn’t let him finish.
Wet soft bloated lips met, or rather pushed, forced themselves upon his stiff ones, suffocating all reprimanding comments, all and everything he was about to say.
She shuffled into a cradling position on his lap, body and chest glued tightly in his embrace, hands running, tangling, gripping desperately onto the emerald locks at the nape of his neck, lips whimpering upon his ones, as though begging them to kiss back.
That desperation tasted delicious on his tongue. How she sat on his lap like some wounded animal, begging for the kind and nurturing hand of their master to help soothe the pain away.
He wasn’t about to discourage that type of behavior, that form of apology.
She wasn’t ready to take his cock, but then again, she never was with how gifted he was and how cursed she were. His cock being so threateningly huge, just like the rest of him.
But given the rest of him was just as threatening, she could manage, she could survive taking but one of his limbs rather than having all his brutal strength take care of her.
So she buttoned up his pants, trembling fingers working hurriedly, spiked by fear of both what was to come and what would come were she to stop. Her mouth still laying sloppy tearful kisses onto his lips, as he didn’t seem to mind just how much she was sobbing to please him.
She was at once stroking him when he was out, her other hand rushing to save her own life as it messaged her clit, trying to warn her of what was to come, what needed to come.
Still he hadn’t said anything, still let her slave for him. Though that might be for the best in this case.
His large hands placed palms down on the floor, simply supporting him as he leaned on them.
When she broke off the kiss, he was about to correct her, yet she ducked quicker, wrapping her warm and wet lips around his cock and giving th head a swirl with her tongue before pushing down as far as she could, glucking on him so eagerly and desperately, rendering what reprimanding movement was to come of his hand to an encouraging petting of her head instead.
She only sucked for a brief moment, leaving the proudly bobbing spit-slicked pole cold once she parted with only strings of drool connecting them. She shuffling back up to align him with her entrance hurriedly.
Her lip quivered as she looked at him to search his stoic features, her body frozen, left to simply hover and sway above his impatient member, as she tried her best to quickly brace herself for the pain she was about to feel.
But then his patience wavered, and strong hands griped her hips and forced her down to take the cock, impaling her as he sheathed himself fully, earning a high-pitched screaming whimper from her.
She fell to his chest, hands tugging his shirt to steady herself as she winced at the feel of him tearing her apart.
“Silly me…” He chuckled, the sound cold and gut-wrenching. “Rewarding you when I should be punishing you.”
She breathed sporadically, hitched and hiccupping.
“I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve it-”
Agreeing was the only course of action for her, the only thing she could afford.
“That’s right, you don’t deserve it.”
But the world is far from fair.
TODOROKI SHOTO
-DISTRACTION
He was coming.
He was coming and nothing could stop him, nothing could change his mind, nothing could help and nothing could save her, except maybe the next worst thing.
Bargaining pain with unwanted pleasure, the price being her pride, her dignity, her strength.
It would happen anyway after he was done making pretty artwork of her flesh, after he’d tampered with her limits long enough.
She had the chance to skip to the end. But the price remained her spirit, steep like her fear and heavy like her mind, heart and soul scaled together.
And yet, she made the gamble.
It was either she let him bite, chew and swallow her heart and spirit and soul on repeat or she bit back.
This was her biting back.
This was survival of the fittest.
This was her surviving.
She needed to take her aim now or never, before he did it first. So, she barreled the arrow, struck the bow, leveled her hawkeye and took the shot.
“I love you, Shoto.” She proclaimed.
Arrow flying, hands smooth in receiving his chest before he could tug her towards him. Meeting his hungry approach with a focused desperation of her own, dedicated as she pushed him back so that he was the one sitting and she was the one on top for once.
Hands gentle, without much pressure, drumming up the bruises and scars of his chiseled stomach, one side cold, the other hot.
“Will you let me show you how much I love you?” She questioned.
Time to see if the arrow had hit, lips pressed firmly to his forehead a short second later, before pressing one against his temple, careful to not hurt him where the skin was scarred and sensitive around his eye, then one against his jaw, and neck, and shoulder, and chest, trailing down further and further.
He stirred once she kissed on a particular cut, his hands coming to hold her back as he began sitting up.
Yet she was firm in her resolution, her own hands pushing his shoulders down.
“No, no...” She tutted, tone still soft. Not at all as though she was giving him a demand. Not at all like how he thought a command should sound, what he’d learned his mistakes would grant him from those people he trusted.
Not at all like his father’s voice of tyranny and terror.
“Let me take care of you.” She whispered it, and his heart clenched with memories of how his mother would patch him up after training.
The arrow well planted in his chest now.
“You just lie back...”
She kissed his cheek then, adamant she’d make him cry, make him become soft, help him, to save herself.
“Relax....”
She kissed his lips then and she swore she heard him whimper like a kicked pup, all fragile beneath her, broken and just a boy rather than the cruel man she knew him to be.
And then he was crying. Softly and quietly, but crying nonetheless. Thin streams of saltwater running down the corners of his pretty eyes.
He looked so vulnerable then. Vulnerable like glass, no… like ice melting.
And when the ice had finally melted she could either swim or drown in what ocean was left behind, all depended on how softly she handled him, where one wrong word would make him sharp like bladed icicles again, and the right words would keep him like this. Small, weak, needy, tame. You can only kiss storms when you’re right in the eye of them, where one misstep will send you flying, falling, to your despair, to your death.
She could make no mistakes.
She aligned her naked sex up with his. The steam in the room layered thick with dew on their naked bodies, alongside nervous sweat.
“You and I are the only ones that matter in this entire world, Shoto…”
She sat down, hungrily ripping a groan from his chest at her almost brutal pace, and she moaned as she dipped down to lay herself on his chest, feeling him sink and twitch inside her, fill her up so perfectly, like two things falling into sync, like yin and yang, like balance.
“It’s only you and me between heaven and hell.”
She whispered the words like a chant, like witchcraft, the breath of them tickling his skin as she kissed down his pelvis, still firmly planted on top of him, hand trailing after, running over him smoothly and precisely, careful in their venture, before dropping down from the loft of his hips to entangle her small breakable finger in his destructive hands
“And everything else is just falling snow…”
She rocked her hips, like a smooth wave rolling into shore, thighs cradling his torso snugly, keeping him safe and trapped beneath her as she continued lolling forward on repeat, tentatively feeling after the pressure his hands gave hers, how tightly he squeezed, if it were a form of encouragement or discomfort, their wrists laid on the warmth of her thighs.
“I love you, Snow-Angel.” He cried, voice jagged and so far away from anything she’d ever heard.
And though this was what she’d been aiming for, having it enrol before her was a frightening type of uncharted waters she hadn’t at all any knowledge of how to tackle.
And that fear, the fear of drowning, increased so spectacularly when he sat up.
His fingers slipping from hers, leaving her control and wrapping around her torso instead, tightly, so tightly she feared he’d break her spine.
And then the heat followed, the blistering heat.
And then the cold, the promise of frostbite.
But then… he was still crying...
Crying like a toddler into her shoulder, nuzzling in her neck and all those terrifying and painful promises seemed to mellow, leaving her unscathed yet panicked, as without the pain she had no way of knowing when or where to go, resulting to her simply sitting there, comforting her captor, speared on his cock of her own choosing, with his tears running down her back.
Her heart beating painfully rapid in her chest as she slowly and unsurely raising her freed fingers to wrap into his dual-coloured locks, petting his head and hoping, praying she wasn’t falling prey to any false sense of safety.
DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA
-HABIT
They were doing what they always did.
Simply lounging.
Slugged on the bed, in each-other’s arms. Sickly sweet fumes in the dank room. Air thick like a cloud, dark and grey and matt.
The walls having been erased or rather blurred out into nothing, leaving them there, floating in and about nothing, each-other’s warmth the only constant.
Where in the complete lack of scheduling it had become like schedule, like ritual to simply lay and do nothing, then do something that threw them back into exhaustion which in turn resulted in yet again doing nothing, except maybe sleep.
The day lacked much, and in its lacking there were certain expectations, certain instincts and impulses that had arisen inside her.
She knew something was coming, anticipation, she knew something was supposed to come, and yet they still laid there and did nothing, when they were supposed to be doing… well… something, so that they yet again could go back to doing nothing.
It was safe to say her head had become rather empty at this point.
“Are we forgetting something?” She felt the need to ask, felt the need to hear Dabi tell her, give orders in where she should go and what she should say, something not allowing her to feel the terror of why those necessasties had become second nature or why she found refuge in them.
He mumbled in return, tone dark and scratchy like gravel or coal, evoking something to twist in her lower abdomen and purr with pleasure. “And what would that be?”
Dabi’s hand still fingered a rolled blunt, perfect with his expertise and nimble lanky fingers. Hand dragged to his mouth to take the final blow, smoke puffed out into the small space of the bedroom, layered thickly in the air.
Her eyes puffy and watery and red yet remaining open out of habit. Her lips burned, or rather stung, prickled from the after affects, her mouth dry as though full of ash, and as she breathed she felt the scratchy raw feeling of her throat by how much she’d been coughing earlier.
Dabi was always certain she didn’t take proper drags, therefore resulting in taking the drag for her, locking his lips painfully tight around hers, blowing until her face turned red and he could be sure the smoke reached her lungs. He was never satisfied before her eyes glossed over, blank and stupid, blinking at him so softly, as all off her became softer and softer, both her gaze, her voice, her words, her actions, her thoughts, her resistance.
“I don’t know…” She honestly didn’t, all she felt was that something was missing, that she required something, or that something was required of her, the feeling that she was supposed to be doing something or have something done to her.
Dabi turned his head to look at her, inspecting her features, the cute confusion warping her face into a feeble timid expression, brows softly scrunched together, eyes focusing on nothing yet something as she raked through her empty head, her foggy ditzy subdued head.
A look of near endearment present on his face as he watched on for a second for the sake of amusement.
He cupped her cheek, her eyes quickly skittering to meet his, as though on command, knowing by instinct that was what she was supposed to do.
“Are you waiting for something, doll?”
Her lips quivered, and he could already spot the brimming of bubbling tears that came flooding to the surface. Soon to be spluttering out hopeless mumbles if he didn’t save her from the fall first. He was almost tempted not to, if only to scoop up what was left afterwards, put the pieces back together in whatever order he so wished, but he was feeling benevolent tonight.
His smile was soft as it neared her, deceptively so, kind and well-wishing, as his lips met with hers.
It felt like salvation, it felt like peace, it felt like all was falling into place, the way they should be, and she felt safe, no… she felt saved. From what? She did not know, as she had not the mind to care. All she had the mind for was to kiss back.
She moved more on her own now, with the reminder of his tongue in her mouth, the taste making her feel like she was being welcomed home.
Leg sweeping over his to plant herself in his lap, in her rightful place, feeling the all too familiar poking of his hard cock kept bulged beneath the comfort or discomfort of his briefs and jeans, brushing into and past the thin fabric of her cotton laced panties, soon to be drenched, as on cue, as though she’d been taught that would be best.
Her eyes were wide, wide with falling, with being lost, with wanting him to catch her, to save her, wide with waiting, hanging onto his every movement, as though incapable of doing anything on her own, as though only capable of taking orders. Just as he’d shaped her.
His finger drummed alongside her thighs where she knelt on his cock. His other hand doing the same, meeting where his jeans were kept on, unbuttoning, then zipping down, all so slowly, all to watch her features turn even more lost, into something that looked so adorably like hope.
“Is this what you wanted?”
He pulled his stiff dick out of his boxers, having it spring and stand proudly in the air, curved and pierced with all sorts of fun.
She licked her lips mindlessly, eyeing the pole, wanting, no, needing, no… compelled to pull her underwear aside, revealing what dripping drooling well-trained mess had pooled from her.
Feeling so utterly fulfilled, it feeling so positively right, as though what she’d lost was now returned, was she’d been missing she’d found, and what more, what she’d been missing had been missing her as well, hungrily so, painfully so. It was all she could think of when she eased down onto the towering pole until she was filled up to the brim, only to push down some more to envelope him entirely, feel him stretch and curve inside her.
More after that, she didn’t know what she needed to do, but she was sure she’d know once she got there, she was sure Dabi would be a saint and tell.
SHIGARAKI TOMURA
-BOREDOM
She was losing her mind.
It was a horrendous type of silence. Silence that wasn’t really silence at all as it was cut and sliced and murdered and bled out into the tactless endless mocking clicking of Tomura’s consoler.
Sharp aggressive smacks where he thumbed the joysticks, quick slaps with his long veiny bony fingers slamming with unneeded force into fragile buttons.
She felt the sting in her temple, eyes squeezed so impossibly tight to a close as her ears sung with irritation.
“I’m done.”
She only barely recognised her own voice. Though she knew she mouthed the words and she knew she added timber and tone to sound them, but that whine, that sickly sweet defeat that laced the syllables, as though she were crying, as though she were begging, that wasn’t her, but that was who she’d become.
“You win.”
And she wasn’t at all sure if she cared anymore about her defeat.
“No… I’m about to.” He mumbled, eyes glancing to her briefly, split-secondly, before they swiftly, with lightning speed, stuck back to watch the bright screen a foot in front of him, the clicking made by his ruthless fingers never once stopping.
She wondered how such force was even possible, given he had to lift one digit on each hand in order not to destroy what he held so preciously. How he had the grip, the agility, the mobility and speed and precision was something that spurred through her mind each time she watched him go on, winning more so than losing. She guessed it was practice. Sometimes it would amaze her, somedays she would watch mindlessly as he sped through all levels, all ranks, all challenges, all side quests, win after win, wondering if it even posed any challenge, any stimulation when he seemed to complete them all with such ease and finesse, effortlessly.
Sometimes it would amaze her, but this was not one of those times.
She swore her ears were bleeding, they were screaming and crying and strangling all wishes she had of sleep. The bed was too soft and everything was too soft, too quiet, yet not quiet at all and she was so fucking bored, so fucking drained of everything and anything except irritation and the need for something and anything, something loud, something sharp to wake her up, something terrifying or something anything everything that could make her feel something anything everything.
She needed it, and she needed it desperately, all things aside, fuck who she was, and especially fuck that shitty fucking game he was playing.
“Fuck! Your stupid! Game! Tomura!”
She hadn’t even realized she’d slid off the bed and was standing on her numb feet, game controller snatched from him in one second and smashed to smithereens on the wall in the next.
She looked more shook than him, if he was being honest.
Nonetheless.
“What the fuck?!”
He was mad, no, he was fuming.
And she lived for it.
“I swear, you’re gonna pay-”
He hadn’t even reached her before her lips split into a grin, eyes like lightning awaiting the thunder.
“Gladly, punish me, do something, do anything!”
She wasn’t proud with her playful hinting, but you aren’t supposed to live your life without doing things you regret. And though she was playing spoiled brat for a notorious villain, the most dangerous individual she’d ever met, he also had a cock crafted by monsters that seemed to hit every spot it needed to, finding and creating new ones as it filled her up to the brim and she was salivating just by the thought of being split open on it, especially by seeing what mood she’d conjured from him.
But, even though her pride dripped from between her thighs, she was not too eager to plainly say that she desired his dick balls-deep within her needy cunt.
“What?”
He’d stopped in his tracks, eyeing her. And though some part of him wanted to believe what disgusting depraved thoughts he had regarding why she was seeking his attention, he knew better, rendering her annoyance to simply picking a fight with her captor, quite like a how child throws tantrums at their parents or prisoners riot.
Turns out her playful words did little to sway his thoughts regarding the situation.
“You’ve been playing your dumb videogames all week!” She whined, almost screeching. Eyes angry and lips pouty.
He wanted nothing more but to show her what bad behaviour would give her, but seeing how punishment would be giving her what she had requested, he wasn’t too quick to fold to his desires.
“It feels like I’m dying, make me feel something, anything…”
She was pleading he realized, and stopped in wonder at the revelation.
She was pleading with him, begging for him, for anything of him, anything meaning anything…
Yet… surely not what he wanted it to mean.
“No.” He forced on a nonchalant tone. “You smashed my controller, I’m not rewarding you for that, there are nicer ways of asking…” He drawled and turned casually to get back in his chair, pondering his need to purchase another custom-made console, thinking he had a couple things he wanted to fix anyway.
Was she really going to have to be so literal? Was she really going to have to bend over and beg for him to take her? Was she really going to have to serve him her heart, her spirit, her mind, and soul and body on a silver platter for him to take it?
She thought he was greedy. She thought he was depraved enough to hear what she was asking of him.
No way he was ignoring the invitation, right?
If that were the case, he could at least mock her for her begging, but he barely seemed to even recognise her change in attitude at all. Granted, she couldn’t really see much of his expression beneath that mop of hair.
She wanted to scream, pull her hair out of her head, yet as her knees hit the floor and Tomura sat back down in his chair, she realized she had but one thing to do.
Crawl.
She was silent, shuffling under the table, taking one gluttonous drag through her nose, mouth watering at the reek of male musk, his musk, Tomura’s musk, a smell so undeniably him.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to let him know she was there yet, but decided to be a tease and better prepare him for what she was about to do.
Experienced and confident fingers pressed a woman’s touch to his ankles, running skilled tender touches over the flexing of his calves’ muscles, despite feeling him tense beneath her. Undiscouraged as they went smoothly over his thighs to reach the hem of his boxers, reaching inside them to pull out what she was proud to feel thick and stiff and just as needy as her, warm and pulsating in her tiny palm.
Handling him delicately. First she licked her lips wet and gave the head a pretty popping kiss, before producing her tongue like a pillow for the cap and flicking the pink muscle from side to side under the sensitive skin that was already oozing with precum onto her tastebuds.
She her his breath stifle, but allowed him no rest as she closed her warm wet mouth around him.
He broke instantly.
Now knowing it wasn’t his mind playing tricks.
“Fuck! You win, you win!” He hissed, hand wrapping around her throat to pull her up from her conquering. “If I’d known what a needy little slut you were I'd have given you cock earlier. You should’ve just said so...”
They both giggled ludically as he threw her down on the bed, Thrill already bubbling up a storm on her insides with such lust to be fucked out of her bloody mind she was quaking from head to toe and screaming out her moan when he pushed perfectly into her wetness in one fell swoop.
TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS
-NECESSITY
He heard the padding of her approach. Soft footed and gentle. Not at all like how she would usually stomp around in rage of being trapped.
He didn’t look up at first, thinking she didn’t want anything to do with him, as per usual, yet in his blurry unfocused vision he could spot she’d stopped in front of him, waiting for his acknowledgement, where he sat on the coach, undisturbed and undisturbing until now, scrolling through his phone.
He decided to ignore her, testing to see if she’d speak up and announce her demands, yet was surprised to see she stood there patiently, no words, no screams.
Curiosity getting the better of him he looked up, finding her standing there bare-footed, skin wet, towel wrapped around her, hair dripping, eyes leaking, though not from shower-water, but from brimming with tears.
His instincts kicked in then at the sight of her.
“Are you okay?”
He sprung from the coach, expecting her to push him away once he reached for her, yet was surprised to feel her attach to him, latch around him, welcome his warmth and his offered condolence instead of her usual rejection and snarling.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry, why are you crying?”
He realized then that her body was quaking, seemingly febrile, so much plead knotted between her brows he’d never seen anything like it.
It made him concerned to say the least, eyes searching her body for any possible explanation in the form of bruises, thinking maybe she’d hurt herself, already scolding himself for having left her alone.
“Baby? What's going-”
He didn’t smell it at first, what with the scent being washed off and all at the hands of her shower, but the aroma was soon layered thick in the room, growing alongside her desperation.
A scent so heavenly, so lavish and sweet and ambrosial, already making water pool in his mouth.
Her shaking made sense then, so did the tears, and the desperation and the potent adorable look of despair written all over her pitiful little cute face.
“Oh… I see.”
He was going to take advantage of this.
He was going to ring it for every drop it was worth.
“Does my little angel need me?” His voice shed its concern swiftly, curling into something sweetly sadistic and salacious.
His fingers hung onto her chin, or rather, her chin hung off his fingers.
“If you ask nicely perhaps I’ll-”
“You’re being cruel.” She stated, voice so sweet, so vulnerable, breaking as she sniffled, bottom lip trembling so preciously, as he wasn’t sure the shower-water was instead not indeed sweat. Knees weak, arms heavy, head pounding, stomach hurting, eating her from the inside in desperate need to feed the bottomless hunger that was growing and weeping in her lower abdomen.
Her hand held loosely over her stomach, visibly shaking.
He ignored her statement. “That was a long shower…” It was an insinuating observation, cocky in its nature. “Were you trying to help yourself on the showerhead?”
He quirked a brow at him, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth.
“Trying to get out of grovelling for me, hm? Despite knowing how my cock is the only thing that can save you.”
He was gleeful, sadistic bliss tickling through his body, sending pleasure through every nerve, because he knew, he knew he was right and he knew what was coming. He knew she would fold, surrender, succumb, and he knew how grateful she’d be afterwards, dripping with his cum, eyes opium-blown, euphoric and fluttering, and looking at him with such wholehearted, such won-over love.
Though, know all that filled her eyes were glistening tears and swirling suffering.
“It hurts…”
His heart clenched at that.
She looked like a toddler, small and weak and helpless and innocent, as though if it weren’t for her predicament she wouldn’t be abusing every ounce of energy in her being to make him miserable.
How ironic, she being the miserable one now, all dependent on him.
“It hurts, please, please help me, help me, Keigo.”
She was aching. Her small needy hands coming to grab at him, to pull him closer as she sobbed, whining so beautifully for him.
“I need you, Keigo.”
He was getting wrapped up in it, hanging onto every perfect needy jerking she did to try and get closer, to try and help herself against him, licking it up as though he was parched
And he was, he truly was, she’d drained him dry, rejecting each and every proclamation of his love. She’d laughed at it, waged war against it, and here she was, finally, embracing it, begging for it.
He realized, he needed this just as much as she did.
He didn’t need anything weightless like a stupid apology, he just needed to hear her say those pretty words.
“I need Hawks.”
Her eyes grew dark, pupils blown wide with lust as her words were laced with such feral carnality.
His hands grabbed ahold of her ample hips, grinding her into himself, where she met his attack by effortlessly maneuvering her legs to wrap around his torso, hands cupping his face as she peered into his eyes, wanting to drown herself in the gold.
“I need you deep inside me, filling me up, wreaking me…”
Her lips hovered above his own as she clutched tightly onto him, begging with every inch of her body, clinging to him as though it were for her very life.
“I need your cum, I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk or talk or think or feel, until I’m numb and all I can see is you, all I can think is you, all I am is you and yours.”
He was left awestruck by the way she looked at him, as though he were the world, or her god, with so much love and so much desperate desire and fear.
A fear he’d come to know all too much chasing her. A fear of rejection, a fear of having her heart broken, a feeling that’s all too much like dying.
“I need your love, please, please love me, Keigo.”
He couldn’t refuse, despite wanting to have used this opportunity as a lesson, he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her suffering and he most definitely couldn’t leave himself suffering now that his cock was hungry for the attention she was all too eager to give him.
SHINSO HITOSHI
-SUBMITANCE
She knew she should be disgusted, she knew she should be angry, she should be fighting it.
If she were the feral creature quite alike the lioness or tigress or any other wild cat, she should by law be scratching and clawing and snarling. She should revolt, reject, uproar at the feel of a collar around her throat.
But here she was, big wide glossy opium-soaked eyes staring up at her Master and his compelling lilac orbs, feeling her stomach curl at the feel of his big fist tugging her leash as he hovers above her, purring like a little kitten, like the little kitten she was, at the feel of his swollen thick cock filling her up so snuggly, breeding her good, while she drools at the collar put, not just on her throat, but on her mind, panting over the thought of having his commands lick every nerve of her body, making her twist and bend and bow all to his wishes.
Fluffy tail wrapped around his leg, holding onto him in the softest form of embrace as her hands are otherwise occupied with being tied to the bed-post.
She whimpered, aching fingers wanting to touch, to run smooth soft fingertips over his skin, his scars, tangle in his wild lavish purple locks.
She bit her lip and clenched around the member inside her, making him groan as he bottomed-out and pulled back again.
“Could- could Master… untie me?” She needed to ask, voice timid and hopeful, again feeling him slowly inch into her core, messaging her insides, her walls kissing alongside his girth, sucking on him gratefully.
He quirked an eyebrow, as if to ask why, or to tell her why he couldn’t do that.
“I want to touch you…” She pleaded, a confession so sweet and voice anything but brazen or wanton, blinking shamefully, guilty of her lust, even though in the light of what he’d done to her and made her do to him, it sounded like mere child’s play, something she shouldn’t even be allowed to be embarrassed about.
His eyes scanned her, curious, doubting her, yet having felt how her legs wrapped around his torso, and the ever-playful cuddling tail that had slithered between his thighs and latched itself around his ankle, tugging on him like such a clingy little devoted kitty.
His lips curled up into a smile, looking down at his little bashful housebroken pet, thrilled to see her look up at him too, eyes full of awe on both sides, lustful, loving.
He pushed himself fully into her, cockhead kissing her cervix, and she gave a mew, moaning while he bowed down to meet her lips with his.
His hands danced up her arms, drumming alongside her limbs before they met with the knots around her wrists, tugging them loose.
Once she was free she hesitated. Eyes still so wide, as though asking for permission, as though asking for guidance, or… as though she were waiting for him to tell her what to do, and then, as though a question was burning at her lips.
“Master… ask me a question?” She requested, slowly bringing her hands down from their position, placing them around the back of his neck, fingers playing with his soft wild hair.
He needed to take a second or two to really fathom what she’d just said, where his mind seemed to leap once he did.
“Something you don’t want the answer to.”
He swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling a rush of blood pool in his cheeks. His breathe grew heavy and eyes intense.
“Do you know what you’re asking?”
He needed to be sure, he needed to hear her say it, admit to it
His doubts were answered as she blinked, biting her lips, looking away shyly, clearly knowing how wrong it was of her to request him entering and playing with her mind like that.
“Yes…”
He couldn’t help but smile at her timidity, how she blushed under his gaze. But still, he needed her to give him the entirety of her desire.
“Tell me…”
He rested his forehead on her hers, happy with butterflies in his stomach at the feel of her affectionate hands running through his locks.
“What do you want from me, Kitten?”
Her breath shuddered, legs climbing higher up his back, pulling him closer. Their eyes so adamant on looking, drowning in the other. His storm of lilac so dominant and dangerous, making her mouth water and toes curl and head flutter with knowing how she was completely trapped, completely where he wanted her, loving it all the same, finding refuge in the fact, finding safety and belonging and peace.
“I want…”
Her eyes where only wide, wide with hope and searching for if he’d catch her when she now jumped, leaped into his arms.
“I want you. I want your- your teeth in my mind, marking me, making me yours, making me… feel…”
All of her was clinging to him now, her tail so neatly and snuggly slithered around his ankle, as though chaining him to her, her hands as well entangled with the unruly hair at the nape of his neck, her legs wrapped around him so tightly and desperately, pussy clenching around his cock like a vice, and her eyes hanging off of all and everything of what was giving her.
“Making you feel what?” He pushed, giving another thrust where he barely pulled out only to rock into her again.
“Safe.”
That was such an innocent word, such a sweet wish it made his heart hurt with something he couldn’t quite place, whether it was guilt or satisfaction he couldn’t tell.
“Will you do that? For me?”
He could get lost in those eyes of hers forever, those moon-big round eyes, opium-black and blown pupils so wide he thought he was falling through space with how much they reflected the limited light inside their room.
“Do you love me?” He asked then, fearing the answer.
“Yes.”
A word can be so many things, a vow, a promise, an echo, a welcome.
Her eyes went blank then, but not before she gave the softest hum as though to say thank you as she felt his presence seep into her mind. Her limbs losing all types of stress, becoming numb and soft. All her worries blanketed, where all she dreamt of was velvet lilac-tinted oceans, getting drunk on grapes and the smell of lavender and all things purple like those great godlike eyes staring down at her, the ones keeping her spellbound and tethered in a deadlock, the ones she belonged to.
CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL
-COMFORT
The slamming shut of the apartment door, followed by the digital clicking of the lock being closed is how she knew he was home.
He hadn’t said anything.
Where usually he would at least greet her as she quickly sprung across the marble floors to welcome him home, take his jacket, kiss his cheek, all so perfectly like he’d taught her.
He hadn’t said anything.
No ‘I missed you’ or ‘thank you, princess’.
He hadn’t said anything at all.
But most things with Kai weren’t verbal anyway.
She’d learned to pick up cues, analyze a raised brow, or a slight shift in posture, or the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes.
He hadn’t said anything, but the scowl that accompanied his aura spoke volumes to the girl. Finding his state of mind, concerned with what she found, as it was not his usual nonchalance nor his occasional contempt, but bitter.
He groaned then, once she’d helped him out of his jacket, green and tacky, purple faux fluff, something so out-of-place on Kai, yet also serving as one of his key recognizable traits.
He kicked off his shoes, also something so very out of character it brought her concern, followed by him shuffling, feet dragging on the floors in complete opposition to how he would usually walk, with his head held high, regarding the floor as though it should be grateful to be gifted by him walking on it.
Now though, he slumped, still without a word, up the stairs, sauntering without haste, without enthusiasm, all in goal of reaching the bed, which he laid out flat on once he got to it.
“Are you okay?” She asked timidly, having followed him and standing unsurely on the threshold of the door, not knowing whether she was welcome or not.
He simply pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, giving her the answer she’d guessed already.
“Can I do anything to help?” Again, she kept her voice soft and tender, hopeful; cheerful in hopes of cheering him up.
“I doubt it.” His answer was curt and bitter as he sat up on the bed, tugging loose his tie with an exhausted growl of irritation.
She padded around the bed then, not exactly having been given an invitation to stay, but not exactly having been given any indication to leave either.
Careful as she climbed up behind him, like a cat easing in on its prey, gracious and soft and focused on not alarming or disturbing the goal.
“Surely there must be something I can do?”
His ears picked up on the play in her voice, the thin hairs at the back of his neck rising, yet his curiosity was stifled as her hands, once so small and insignificant, became the hands of God.
Fingers kneading into his back, thorough and forceful yet welcomed by him through a breathy guttural groan, closing his eyes with much needed rest as he let himself fall completely to the feeling of her messaging all his tense stress right out of his shoulders, seemingly sucking all the bad out of him.
He gave yet another throaty groan as her fingers rubbed and dug into his back, her hand stopping his head from slugging forward, cupping him tenderly and guided him to rest against the softness of her chest instead.
“Do you feel better now?”
She spoke like how a mother should, sweet like summer breeze, just above a whisper, eager to please, affectionate, without ill-will, without anything to gain, selfless and beautiful, and something he was in desperate need of.
He moaned, a long dragged out breathy moan, one filled with such potent gratitude it made her smile.
“Getting there...”
She hummed, her hands like absolution handling his back like dough, thumbs rubbing the stiffness into tender soft flesh once again, working through the knots, before climbing, mounting his shoulders and ensnaring his neck, gentle fingers running smoothly to unbutton his shirt, her face nuzzling in his neck as it was exposed to her, soft plump lips kissing the sensitive skin found there, knowing exactly where to focus, hearing him moan in relief as she zeroed in on his soft-spot.
Her hands running, dancing down his chest, unbuttoning the last of his buttons, helping him slide out of it.
Quick to take her bra off, still while kissing his neck, before pushing her warm soft mounds into his back, hugging herself against him.
“How about now?” Her voice like honey as her words tickled on his neck.
“Almost…”
She slithered around to seat herself in his lap, hands cupping his cheeks as she leaned in to kiss him, naked chest rubbing up against naked chest, warm and soft, homey and safe.
Her hand drummed playfully down his stomach, reaching his pants, moving skillfully on its own to undo the belt-buckle, then the button, then pulling down the zipper.
He shuffled them down his thighs on his own, still keeping his chin lifted to receive her kisses. His clothed erection bumping up into the thin protection of her panties.
Her hand, still so smoothly, reached under the band of his boxers to pull him out. Though his rough way of ripping her lacy underwear off managed to break through her calm demeanor as she yelped a bit and flinched.
However the surprise was quickly followed by giggles as she continued to kiss him, feeling his smirk against her lips and soon his hand cupping her ass before running hungry pressured fingertips around her thigh to play with her slit, thumb roughly pushing into her clit as other reckless digits ran though her folds to test the waters, quite parallel to how carefully she handled his cock with her own elegant hand, rubbing him up and down ever so gently, with the tenderness he carved.
He hissed once her thumb rubbed over his sensitive head, biting into her lip, and though his beastly impulses used to alarm her, now she could only think of them as an invitation.
Holding his cock up to her entrance, giving him time to remove his fingers from her now soaking folds.
She sunk down on him slowly, moaning softly against his lips as he groaned upon hers.
“Better now?” She asked, without giving way to the cockiness her question carried, but he deciphered it with ease nonetheless, giving her ass a playful squeeze before guiding her to lay down on her back, nibbling on her neck as he chuckled at how she disguised her devilish naughty humour as being innocent, wanting to make her choke on that haughtiness as he gave a quick sharp thrust up into her.
Her moan rung throughout the massive penthouse where no doors were kept closed, as he licked the sin right off her expression with one needy hungry kiss and a promise as well as a threat.
“I will be once I hear you scream my name, princess.”
TIP-JAR
