cult leader!geto doing your routinely hole inspection…
he’s grown to like you over the years, noticing you in the sea of others, his most loyal and devoted follower. He’s grown to like you so much, he feels the need to keep you close…really close. The others notice how he favors you in every way, and they also notice how you sneak away into his room at night. Why? They have zero clue. Some spread rumors that you’re getting a reward or allowance of some kind, some say that he’s secretly hypnotizing you. Truth be told, they weren’t completely wrong.
Every night like clock work you end up over his lap, shorts and panties bunched at your ankles while his hand caresses your ass. He’s gentle, and soft spoken, humming at the sight of you in front of him. Little words are spoken, but you enjoy it so much that you look forward to this moment when the day ends.
You lay across his lap, empty headed smile on your face, his hands spread your ass, kneading at the flesh. A brow raises, noticing you were wearing your plug, the one he specifically told you to wear this morning. He spreads your ass wider, your hips lifting instinctively, allowing him a better view. “Hm, you’re wet,” he plainly states, spreading your pussy with his thumb. “Poor girl, you can’t help yourself, can you?” He asks in a mocking tone, gathering some of your slick and rubbing it against your clit in slow circles.
Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, eyes fluttering shut as your back arches at his touch. “I’m sorry,” you meekly say. He knows you weren’t really sorry because you get like this every time. No matter what, your pussy always ends up soaked, basically begging for attention from him. He doesn’t get upset with you, he understands it’s natural, he understands a woman like you has needs and wants and that’s why he’s here. Think of it as his way of saying thank you for your loyalty.
Two thick fingers slip right in, your gummy walls wrapping around them. His other hand follows the curve of your spine, sliding up to grip the back of your neck as he curls his fingers inside of you, slowly pumping them. “Are you wet because of the plug or because of me?” He honestly asks, no shame behind his words. His eyes focus on the way his fingers glisten in your juices, thick and creamy.
“A-ah…both,” you whimper. “But mostly you.”
He smirks to himself, the slick sounds of your pussy echoing off the walls of his bedroom, growing louder the more wet you get. “You’re always so honest…such a good girl,” he breathes. “It’s why you’re my favorite.” He pumps his fingers faster, hitting up against your g-spot, but not too rough.
Your eyes roll back, jaw slack as whimpers escape your throat. You claw at his sheets, nails digging to the fabric, your toes curling from the immense pleasure. It’s something that’s been on your mind all day, and after hours and hours of pretending like you weren’t a wet and horny mess, you get to finally let go and feel everything all at once.
It hits you so suddenly, your heart beat quickening, your mind starts to go blank, and all you can feel is his fingers working inside of you, stretching your pussy. “Gonna…cum…nnngh,” you choke out, breathing heavily. His grip on the back of your neck tightens, holding you in place as he finger fucks you, feeling your pussy clench tighter the closer you get. He watches the way your body shakes in his hold, your moans falling upon his ears when you finally cum. Your body relaxes in his lap as he removes his fingers, rubbing your mess all over your folds, brushing against your throbbing clit.
“Despite being a messy little thing today, your inspection is finished.” His hand swats against the fat of your ass. “Now, come clean your mess off of my fingers.”
a little something while I work on part 5 if insatiable <3
A one night stand with Nanami Kento was supposed to be simple.
A stranger in a bar. A handsome man with honeyed words. A guy who could make you cum and cry and still clean you up afterwards.
Forgetting his hands, his mouth, the marks he left on your skin and the memory of his body moving on top of yours, that was more difficult. To watch him walk out the morning after and know you'd never see him again? You thought it would be the hardest part.
But no, that came when you bumped into him four months later and he asked what your name was. When you brought him back home anyway two drinks later and you discovered he really didn't remember you at all.
The best night of your life was barely a blip on his.
And still, every few months, you'd find him waiting at the last stool at the same bar, drinking a whiskey and waiting for something you tried to convince yourself could be you.
He always acted like you were a stranger. Smiled politely until you slid into the seat next to him, offered his name and a small nod. Told you he wasn't exactly in the position for a real relationship and still climbed into the cab after you when last call came.
Sure, you had your theories. Halfway convinced it was some stupid game or kink he came up with. That it was fun to play along. A game for two. Although, you supposed it might've been memory problems, or a drinking one.
It didn't matter much to you.
His body knew. Reacted on reflexes, kissed you a little harder, stayed a little longer each night you spent together. Held you like you weren't just a hopeless idiot pining over a man that slipped away from you after the sun rose, like you meant something to him.
Until one morning he didn't just disappear.
Rolled over in bed and traced over your shoulder, pressed a small kiss there and said something completely foreign. "I have the weekend off. We could spend it together."
He stayed. And for a second, you got to hold him in your hand. Each moment was another grain of sand down the hourglass. You knew it was temporary. That this, whatever fucked-up thing the two of you were doing, it couldn't last.
But he felt right. Made you breakfast. Took you out to a quiet spot in the park, held your hand and went window shopping. Showed you his place, putting on movies and making popcorn. Treated you like his girlfriend instead of the fuck buddy you were starting to feel like. And it was there, on his couch and under a blanket, that he confessed.
"I had fun," he murmured, running his fingers through your hair. "I hate that I won't remember this."
"What?" You blinked. It had been unspoken. Something you never said outright. Although, the past few times you'd started to tease, to hint that this game was getting old.
"My job, it's, ah, confidential," he explained, low and soft and leaving a sick fucking feeling in your stomach. He was about to continue, but the panic kept rising in your chest, sitting up as you turned to glance back at him.
"Ken," you started, bile building in the back of your throat.
"I do projects for them and they wipe my memory afterwards," he shrugged, like all that time, all those experiences were just disposable. Like you were. "It pays well, but-"
"So, if we met before this, you really wouldn't have remembered?" You asked, even though you knew the answer.
He squinted at you, brows scrunched together as his fingers instinctively tightened around your waist.
"Have we?"
Forgetting Nanami Kento was a hell of a lot harder when you knew remembering you had never been an option for him.
a/n: just watched paycheck lol and had to write a little drabble :p divider by @/strangergraphics
There is something about a yandere stuck in the friendzone that is just so. utterly. pathetic.
My favorite part of the trope is just how diverse it can be.
There are some yandere's that really are just straight pathetic. They're too shy to really say anything. Maybe they've been friends with you since childhood. They know everything about you, and are fully devoted to you, but they really are just a sibling to you.
These yanderes are so incredibly soft. Just a bit too scared to confess their feelings. Too scared to take that leap. Because at least they have you close, right? If you really, truly, just think of them as a sibling, then what can confessing do other than ruin their relationship with you?
Maybe some of them would just remain, pining, (perhaps stealing your panties every now and then, whining into them as they think about your pretty little cunt instead), and holding on to hopeless faith that one day, one day, you'll feel something for them instead.
Deku, Amajiki Tamaki, Tanjiro Kamado
Other yanderes, however, are suffering for an entirely different reason.
The reason?
You're an idiot.
Completely oblivious. Blind. Unable to take a goddamn hint.
They've tried hinting at it. Given you bouquet after bouquet of flowers. Sometimes they're just your favorites, sometimes they're an intentional selection of flowers that, if you thought about it, and weren't so dense, maybe you'd notice how they tell an entire story about his love for you. Nothing is more romantic than flower language.
They've tried taking you out on dates, proposing every single cliche: picnics, candle lit dinner, walks on the beach. Hell, they've even tried a pottery class (they took a few classes previously in order to be able to confidently press their chest against your back, guiding your hands against the clay).
And guess what?
You always end the day saying something stupid about how they're such a good friend, or how you had a great time "hanging out".
I think that these poor yanderes are more likely to snap. More likely to just up and take you, because if you're going to be so blind to his feelings, then he'll have to make you.
There's another friend zoned yandere that I guess isn't that pathetic. They're more just delusional.
In their mind, they're not friend zoned. You two are already dating and you are the one that's too shy to outwardly express your feelings.
This delusional lil buddy is quite content. They've fully conditioned you into being accepting of any and all physical affection that they offer.
In your mind, every time they hold your hand is just platonic. Every kiss on the cheek is equivalent to pecking your mom or your sister. Maybe they're a bit more handsy that most people, but the way they snake their arm around you and secure their hand against your waist is all just friendly.
Maybe you rationalize it as them being touch starved, and so they find physical affection in any way they can. Or perhaps you're just so used to it that you don't even think twice.
(How they've gotten away with "accidentally" groping your chest or squeezing your ass, I have no clue, but perhaps you intentionally ignore it because they're just such a good friend and you don't want to cause problems. It's all harmless, right?)
This yandere will be scaring away other potential love interests. They tell all of their friends that you two are dating, but you're pretty shy about it, so don't bring it up, 'kay?
If you ever catch on to their delusion, I can see it going one of two ways.
The first way: You tell them to stop referring to you as their girlfriend, because you're just friends.
They don't even bat an eye, maybe going along with it, saying "Oh, sorry honey, I'll cut it out" but, in all honesty, they're just thinking about how cute you are when you get bashful like that.
On the other hand, a more stubborn yandere, a more condescending one, will pat your head and say "sure, sweetheart, whatever you say".
Gojo Satoru, Zenitsu Agatsuma
The second way: They crack. Just a bit. Just at the edges. They tell themselves that you're just playing hard to get. That you're kidding, maybe.
If you persist, those cracks split further and further, until they can't take it anymore and resort to less savory methods.
Maybe they have some blackmail on you. They've been around you enough that they may have some serious dirt on you. They could use that to keep you compliant.
They may take a more aggressive approach to your defiance. You tell them to stop acting ridiculous and they tell you to stop acting like a brat as they wrap their hand around your neck until your eyes water and your lungs burn.
You wake up somewhere else. Their bedroom, their basement, a shed. Whatever works.
Because if you're going to deny your natural place at their side, then they'll either make you eventually accept it, or they'll just keep you close until you break. Either way, you will be playing house with them at the end of the day.
older bf!nanami spoils you quietly. thoughtfully. he never makes a show of it—the fresh bouquet on your nightstand every sunday, the lunchboxes packed when he knows you’ll be busy, the way he lets you drag him into shops just to buy you trinkets that “make no financial sense,” yet his wallet’s already out.
he’s older, calm, and terrifyingly composed, but he never makes you feel small—until you’re under him like this.
“k-kento… t-too big—!” your breath hitches, nails clawing into his forearms, but he doesn’t stop. his hips are relentless, driving his cock deeper, harder—brutal, merciless, a sharp contrast to the man who buttoned your coat for you this morning. “i know, darling,” he coos, lips brushing your temple, but there’s a dark gleam in his eyes as he watches you fall apart. “but you’re taking me so well, aren’t you? such a good girl.”
you’re folded in half—legs pinned to your chest, body trembling as he pounds into you, thick and deep, splitting you open with every brutal thrust. his cock kisses your cervix, the heavy drag making your toes curl. “k-kento—ahh—too much… f-feels so good, i—” your words melt into high-pitched whines, drool spilling from the corner of your lips as you squirm beneath him.
“look at you,” he murmurs, pace never faltering, “so pretty when you can’t even form a sentence. what happened to my sharp girl, hmm?” his words are sweet, but the way his hips snap against you—rough, punishing—has your mind blanking. “kento! ahh—mmph—fuck—!” you sob, overwhelmed, nails raking down his back as his cock drags along every sensitive spot inside you, every thrust making your brain fuzzier.
he leans down, mouth messy against your lips, licking into you as his cock bullies its way back into your squelching cunt. “that’s it. take it. you can take a little more, can’t you?”
“y-yes! yes, please—” you cry, teary-eyed, completely cockdrunk as he rocks you into the mattress. “my good girl,” he praises, voice so tender it’s almost cruel, even as his hips roll with devastating force. “let me fuck you dumb, sweetheart. you don’t have to think—just feel me.”
and god, you do. every inch of him. every filthy, perfect inch.
geto figures it out early that you can’t lie for shit when you’re aroused. not past that first breathy dodge. he watches it happen once, twice, a dozen times. after cataloguing the symptoms like a study in behavioral weakness, he turns it into a psychological exercise, poking and prodding until you dodge the setup like a skittish little brat, he pounces.
the approach is always innocuous and passive. geto plays nice. he sits at the foot of your bed, shirt off, hair half-tied and falling into his face like he’s some soft-spoken boyfriend instead of a sadist with an agenda. “so,” a glance sideways, a faint smile, “are we still pretending you don’t want to sit on my cock, or are we done lying tonight?”
you scoff, “bold of you to assume i ever wanted to.”
“cute. so you weren’t eye-fucking me over breakfast?” he stretches his arms behind him, corded muscles flexing. “not even once? while the tea was steeping and you kept sneaking glances at my direction?”
no answer. he hums, faux-thoughtful. “right, of course. my mistake.” you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned before you even come up with a snarky rebuttal. “not turned on, huh?” two long fingers dip past the hem of your panties, find slickness without effort. “then what is this?”
your hips jerk up. a weak whimper leaves your throat. he snorts softly, mouthing kisses at your jaw. “say it again. tell me you weren’t thinking about my tongue in the shower. say you didn’t cum picturing me choking you out and making you cry for it.”
you try. lie again. but your legs are already spread, and he’s talking you through every depraved thought you’ve ever had while his fingers fuck the truth out of you, like some fucked-up version of pinocchio, instead of having your nose grow with every fib, his fingers plunge deeper with each false word.
there’s no preamble when he finally fucks you. knees locked beside your ears, you’re folded in a mean mating press while his cock punches into you. “then why’d you moan my name last night?” whispered low, close to your ear. “when you thought i couldn’t hear? when you were finger-fucking yourself like some horny little slut?” you fall apart halfway through. sob out the truth with his hand in your hair and his dick stretching you open. yes. yes, you thought about him. yes, you came thinking about his mouth. yes, you are a lying liar who lies.
he kisses you, fingers still knotted in your hair. “next time,” he smiles serenely, “try honesty before i fuck it out of you.”
sprawled sideways on the couch, legs draped over suguru’s lap and ankles neatly crossed. on the floor, satoru’s nursing a soda, watching your freshly done manicures with suspicious interest. you tilt your hand, let the sunlight catch the curve of your pink and glossy index finger.
“cute, right?” suguru hums, teacup in hand, barely looking. reliable, that one. but it’s satoru you’re really watching. the classic im about to say something perverted face.
“you know what shade that reminds me of—”
“the tip of your dick,” you cut in. “yup. that’s why i picked it.”suguru’s tea exits his mouth in a clean, almost cinematic arc, splattering across a stack of magazines. satoru laughs so violently he folds in half, hand slapping his thigh, soda threatening to go the same way as the tea. “goddamn,” he wheezes, between hiccuped laughter. “you really went there.”you hold up your hand. he high-fives it without missing a beat.
I see so many fics where Nanami is this dream breadwinner, the ultimate provider. And I love it, it's something that I can admit to dreaming of, but thinking of this practically, that man hates his job as a salaryman.
He'd be so much better suited at home, being the absolutely perfect house husband. His natural seriousness, borderline anal retentiveness, means that everything is spick and span.
Since he's the house husband, you'd naturally have to be the financial provider, and he respects that sacrifice and makes sure that he shows his appreciation through taking his job as homemaker just as seriously as his previous corporate job. That goes to say, your homelife is as close to perfect as it ever could be.
The house is always spotless, floors vacuumed, baseboards dusted, pillows fluffed. There's always dinner on the table when you come home (he somehow always knows just what you want to eat. Call it a house husbands' instincts).
In perfect house husband fashion, Kento is incredibly attentive to all your needs when you get home from your tiring job. You've worked all day, dealing with the stress of whatever professional you're in, makin' that bread, but he makes it feel oh so worth it when you get home and can fall into your husbands arms as he greets you at the door.
I'm a fairly big advocate of a homemaker receiving proper support other than financial and typically would say that once the working spouse returns home the house care should be split more evenly. A homemaker's work is after all a 24-hour duty, so it's only fair that they themselves get some help at the end of the day. But with Kento's efficiency during the day, there's really not much left to do by the time you come home.
Chore-wise, that is.
Kento is one to consider taking care of the house as a duty, a part of his job, but he considers taking care of you as a privilege that comes with his position.
Anyone that has worked a job or held a load of responsibility knows that stress can build up in the body, the soul, and to Kento, relieving your body of that pent up stress is one of his greatest pleasures.
Whatever you need, Kento is ready. Sore shoulders? His hands are getting to work massaging the knots out. You need cuddles? He's already wrapping you in a blanket and holding you securely in his lap.
You need your back blown out? He's unbuttoning his shirt in seconds.
Kento's care and attention to detail does not just extend to his housework.
After all of his time dedicated to taking care of you, he's mastered just how to please you. He knows just how to touch you, has learned how to read what you need. A firm grasp, a tender graze, a sharp spank. Different days demand different techniques.
Sometimes you need something soft. He'll work you over gently, his thrusts slow and fluid as he presses soft kisses against your neck. He whispers in your ear praise and affection.
"You're doing so well, my love."
"I'm so proud of you."
"Let me take care of you, darling."
Other times, you need him to force your mind to shut off. He'll hold you down, rapidly thrusting into you as you plead for more. Those nights get kinkier. He'll pull out rope, cuffs, blindfolds. Anything and everything that you need to make sure that all of your pesky thoughts preoccupied with your work, a project, a presentation, a stupid conversation with a stupid partner or your stupid boss, go poof.
His switch from doting husband to a harsh dominant is intoxicating. These nights have a silent promise of hickeys, red, inflamed handprints left behind on the tender skin of your ass.
He won't be done until you're a boneless puddle, sticky with sweat but utterly satisfied.
As fun as those nights can be, he always looks forward to the aftermath more. How malleable you are in his grasp as he eases the both of you into a bath. How you look at him like he is not just everything but the only thing. The only thing that matters. The complete and utter trust that you hand over to him means more than you will ever know.
Hii! I just read chapter 2 of your yandere Aizawa fic and honestly I rally enjoyed the dynamic in this chapter! I think it’s very interesting that darling (us? Idk but I think that is the term) had a delayed response to the kidnapping instead of an instant one. I also liked that in this chapter we can see how the darling struggles with their own emotions and has a conflict within. I haven’t read the other two chapters mainly because I wanna pace myself but it’s sooo good so far that I’m fighting demons not to binge the next chapters. I think that if you ever get stuck in a writer’s block while writing, you should definitely revisit darling’s internal conflict and maybe even have a chapter that focuses on interiority. (I am not in any way trying to tell you how to write your story, I wouldn’t dream of it, this is only a suggestion!)
Thank you for this delicious food (series) and I can’t wait to see where it goes! :D
I'm so glad that you've liked Kitten so far! I hope that you enjoy the rest when you get to reading it, and I appreciate your suggestions!
I already have a pretty good idea of what I will be doing for the next chapter, a lil bit of inner turmoil, a lil bit of fluff. I'll definitely keep in mind revisiting internal conflict for later, if I decide that it feels right.
Thinking about a yandere who will comfort you during a thunderstorm.
The wind is making the house lurch, the rain sounds like it's going to break windows, the thunder keeps shaking the floors, but he's just there, holding your head to his chest, stroking your hair.
You're all nervous, but he's living life. You're not fighting, not whining about him holding you. Instead, you're gripping onto the front of his shirt and tucking your head underneath his chin.
Challenging yan!Suguru when he tells you that you need to stop skipping meals by asking "aw what are you gonna do about it? Tie me up and force feed me?" And then he just smiles and fucking does just that.
Most mammals have some type of mating season, a mandatory cycle called upon by their physiology in order to further the growth of their population. The feline species is one of those mammals, the females going into estrus multiple times in the span of a few months, or at least until they are with a litter.
Heteromorphic quirks, more crudely known as ‘mutant quirks,’ depending on their nature, can cause the heteromorph to experience such mating cycles. As every heteromorphic quirk is different, there is never a definite way to tell if a mating cycle will present itself. The only thing that can be done is to wait – wait until the heteromorph goes into a heat/rut and go from there.
Aizawa Shouta, of course, knew this before taking you into his care.
In his preparations, he conducted as much research on the occurrence of mating cycles as he could. He scoured the internet, finding everything from medical journals to heteromorph advice columns in magazines (he still cringes when thinking of the article he read aimed for teenagers- “Embrace Your Wild Side.” Why on earth would it ever be necessary to tell these children that they should “get on with their bedroom rodeo?”).
There was, of course, the alternative possibility that you were one of the 62% of people who don’t actually have a mating cycle. Shouta did his best to find out, however that proved to be exceedingly difficult. That’s one of the downsides to having a quirk such as yours. Heteromorphs don’t even make up a fifth of the population, and even then, many of those heteromorphs don’t have quirks that actually need any special accommodations. So, while Japan has a very good universal healthcare system, their insurance coverage tends to overlook heteromorphic quirks and any healthcare that may be directly related to those quirks.
Unfortunately for you, you were well below the poverty line, making you unable to pay for a quirk specialist.
That left Shouta in a bit of a pickle. There was no definite information on your quirk or the “side effects” that come along with it. There was no definite way to find out that information himself without simply waiting and observing. And while he is a patient man, he could only hold out for so long, especially knowing how difficult your life has been. He couldn’t allow you to continue on with such a dismal life. He had to save you.
So that was that. He would take the chance. There was now a stock of toys in a chest in his closet. Some specially designed and ordered in accordance with the words of other experienced heteromorphs. Thinking about certain items made even him blush, however it also causes a bubbling excitement to brew in his stomach. Those toys promise an eventful sex life, one that he was more than looking forward to.
Despite all of this preparation, nothing came. Spring came and went, morphing into summer and then fall, and then you passed the one year mark. No heat.
But now Shouta can’t help but feel like an absolute fool.
Hormones are finicky. Stress, change of environment, and change of diet can throw the body completely out of whack, especially the body of a biological female. In many instances, this can result in irregular or absent menstruation. In this specific instance, it resulted in an absence of a mating cycle.
He should’ve known. He shouldn’t have assumed. He should have watched and not be such an idiot.
There were all of the average PHS (pre-heat syndrome) symptoms. The clinginess, the high temperature, the lethargy. Previously, you were so easy, so compliant. You were set into a routine that should have been so easy to tell when it’s disturbed. Shouta comes home after school, he has dinner with you. He goes to do his night patrols. He comes home. He climbs into your bed and falls asleep with you in his arms. Then you both wake up, have breakfast, and he goes off to work again after giving you a sweet kiss on the forehead.
But you were suddenly hardly letting him out of bed to go to night patrols, or to get up and make you both breakfast You would whine, and pout, and plead. Sometimes you would be so bold as to cling to him as he tries to escape. Shouta didn’t read into it. He thought it was cute. His little kitten was becoming as attached as he was. You wanted him.
When he noticed your spike in temperature, all he thought was that he brought a bug into the house. Your immune system would understandably be severely weakened considering you’ve had no exposure to the outside world for months on end. So he brought you some cold medicine. The lethargy of course made sense if you were sick.
He now feels more than foolish. A clown, really. Possessing no more common sense than his problem children.
When he came home from UA, he went straight to your room as usual. It didn’t take as long to get through the security bolts on your door as before. He trusted you more now. So many locks were hardly necessary.
But when he opened that door he was hit with the smell of sex. A heavy, smothering scent that damn near knocked him off of his feet.
As delicious as that scent was, it was nothing compared to the shocking visual of you on the bed, completely bare with three fingers shoved into your glistening cunt. The sight stunned him into silence, his eyes wide and mouth agape. The only sound in the room was your desperate whimpers.
It took you a minute to notice his presence, too absorbed in your frantic search for satisfaction that felt so out of reach. But when your head tilted to the side, half lidded eyes falling onto Shouta, it was like you found your salvation.
“Sh-Shoutaaa,” you cry out, eyes genuinely tearing up at the sight of him. “Hurts- Bad- So bad- Pleaaase”. Your pathetic whines quickly snapped him out of his own dumbfounded stupor, his mouth snapping shut and his body immediately going into action. His belt is off before he can reach the bed, his shirt joining it in a heap on the carpeted floor.
As he climbed onto the bed, taking in the beautiful sight of you upclose, your whines increased in intensity. You sounded absolutely tortured, and you were because he was going so slow.
“Shh, Kitten,” he consoles, “you can be patient for me, can’t you?”
“No” was your immediate response, making Shouta chuckle and you scowl before rolling over, presenting yourself to Shouta. That instantly turned his chuckle into a groan, his hands falling onto your ass, caressing the soft skin. When he touched just a little too far up, your rear twitched upwards, vibrating when he grazed the base of your tail.
That’s new.
No matter. When you damn near started sobbing, Shouta decided that perhaps it was best to move along.
He pulled his shirt off, carelessly throwing it across the room. Apparently, he was going too slow for you, as a growl slipped through your lips and you began grinding backwards onto him, leaving dark wet spots on his black sweatpants.
His eyes narrowed at your disobedience. He said be patient.
In response to your petulance, his hand softly glided up your thigh up to the top of your rear before gripping onto your tail and using it like a leash, holding you still.
“I told you to be patient, didn’t I?” He glares down at you. When you don’t answer, he gives a sharp slap to your ass, turning it a faint shade of pink. “Answer me, kitten.”
“And I said no-”
Your words are cut off by Shouta tightening his grip on your tail and delivering another harsh slap to your rear.
“Cut the attitude and behave.” The firm order snapped in that husky voice of his sends a gush of slick from your pussy and a whine from your throat, something that did not go unnoticed by your lover.
He slid the hand that rested on your ass downwards, teasing so gently until he reached your entrance and glided down to your clit. “So desperate,” he hummed, rubbing small circles around it and causing your hips to buck, putting a stinging strain on your tail.
“Shouta- Shouta, please, please I’ll be good,” you pleaded, arching your back more in an attempt to entice the man.
A small smirk graced his lips as he finally reached down and tugged the waistband of his pants down just enough to pull his cock out. He tapped the head of it against your center a few times, watching your thighs quiver before he finally answered your pleas.
Your slick allowed him to slide smoothly into your depths, the stretch absolutely delicious, and when he finally bottomed out, you let out a relieved sigh. He was so big and you felt so full.
Of course, this is not at all satisfactory, especially when he’s just sitting there and not moving. Your heat-addled mind didn’t process the fact that he was just trying to give you time to adjust, trying to ensure that you don’t end up injured. That didn’t matter. Not at that moment.
You began moving for him, pushing back against him in hopes of scratching that itch within your bones. That is, until Shouta retightened his grip on your tail, pulling a sharp yowl from you at the firm yank of the sensitive appendage.
“Relax, kitten, or I’ll leave you to deal with this by yourself,” he growled into your ear, and he sounded so hot that you couldn’t help the guttural moan that rises in your chest. “Do you understand, brat?” emphasizing his words with a sharp thrust.
“Uh huh, uh huh,” you panted, now more desperate to please him, needing more of him.
Seemingly pleased with your response, Shouta began to properly rut into you, steadily picking up pace until he was slamming into you. You produced a chorus of moans, the sound music to Shoutas ears, more beautiful than any symphony ever written.
With each harsh thrust, Shoutas firm grip on your tail jostled the sensitive limb, sending shocks of pleasure-pain through your body. The sensation, combined with the delectable glide of his cock, touching your deepest points, was mind-numbing, all thoughts being knocked out of your head. All that mattered is sweaty bodies, temperature continuously rising as skin slaps against skin.
Shoutas fingers dug into your hip, leaving what will eventually turn into purple bruises. The thought of you covered in his marks made Shoutas head spin, pushing him to abandon his grip on your tail, newly-freed hand snaking its way up to your throat, pulling you up against his chest. Your head flopped back against him, cheek pressed against his pec. His mouth descended onto the flesh of your neck, sucking and nipping at your salty skin. The more pretty little shows of love left behind the better.
You gasped as he bit on your pulse point, clenching around his cock and pulling the most tantalizing groan from his mouth.
“You’re so tight, Kitty,” his sultry voice whispered in your ear. Shivers ran down your spine. “Being such a good girl for me. Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”
The only response that you were capable of conjuring was nonsensical babbling, the tightening feeling low in your belly increasing with every passing second.
“It’s okay Kitten, I know you can’t help yourself,” he pressed a kiss onto your cheek before giving you a hard bite on your shoulder. That’s what does it. That’s what tips you over, body tensing up, toes curling, stars appearing before your eyes. Shouta grunted through your orgasm, the tightening of your cunt absolute heaven to the senses. He continued pumping into you, long after your orgasm passes, pushing on while you quiver in his hold.
“Can you give me another one, sweetheart?” he huffed into your ear before lowering you both back down to the mattress, one hand supporting his weight next to your head and the one resuming its grip on your hip. Your fists immediately curled into the fabric of the sheets. The only answer he received was the pulsing of your sweet little cunt, and he took it as confirmation.
Shouta moved faster, thrusting into you harder. He could feel himself creeping toward the edge of his own orgasm, but he was determined to take care of you first. Your second orgasm was just as abrupt as the first, white hot pleasure coursing through your body as you squirted all over Shoutas cock. That’s all that Shouta needed to reach his own peak.
“Good girl, such a good- good girl,” he panted before feeling himself explode into you, painting your insides white. His thrusts slowed down, but he continued to work himself through his orgasm, savoring the aftershocks.
When he stopped moving, Shouta rolled the both of you to your sides, cock keeping you full of his cum. The longer he stayed in you the longer you’d be able to delay the next wave of your heat, giving both of you enough time to get some much needed rest.
────୨ৎ────
The next three days were a blur of sweaty bodies, pleasure filled moans, and blissful satiation. When you resurfaced from the haze of need, you found yourself in the bathtub, Shouta massaging the tension from your calves.
You were limp, near completely boneless after three long days of pushing your body to its limits. Shouta also felt that exhaustion. You had hardly allowed him more than a few hours of rest at a time. Even when he was fully spent, you seemed to still want to keep going, sometimes just riding him to complete overstimulation until the heat that dwelled within your bones was finally settled.
Of course, no complaints would be heard from Shouta. It’s his sworn duty to take care of you, and he would do that until his dying breaths, regardless of how exhausted he was.
That’s why now, he bathes you, cleaning you of the accumulated sweat and cum that had soaked into your skin, while simultaneously admiring your body, reverent like a follower to his goddess.
The soft skin, the gentle curves. You were delicious.
He worked in silence, you watching him with half-lidded eyes, everything feeling oh-so-heavy. It was easy to focus solely on the feeling of his hands on your body, the tender pressure of his fingers into sore muscles.
Eventually, his hands drifted to your torso, so tender that it caused small spasms as the calluses of his palms tickled your sensitive skin. It was only when he lingered over your belly that the thought suddenly occurred to you-
“Shouta.”
“Yes?”
“You- you didn’t use any protection.” The words are thick on your tongue.
“No, I did not.”
You blinked at him lazily, even as your gut was filled with panic.
“I don’t want children. Not- not yet,” your breathe out. Shouta just tilted his head at you, a small smile growing on his lips.
“No need to worry about that, darling.”
“I’m pretty sure I do.”
Shouta leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“No, you really don’t.”
“Do you not know how reproduction works?”
He chuckled, just a little bit, causing your brow to furrow at him. Was he daft?
“I got a vasectomy shortly after graduating from high school.” Oh. His hands glided up to your face, cupping your cheeks with utmost care. “It’s reversible, and I froze some sperm just in case I needed it, so that means we-” he kissed your cheek, “can do-” he kissed your jaw, “this-” he nibbled at your neck. “all we want.”
You breathed out a sigh of relief, eyes drifting shut.
You should have known that he would take care of you, because that’s what he does. What he’s always done. What he’ll always do.
This is my first time doing this ever but i NEED more of Eraserhead's Kitten. I have binged read the whole thing and stocked you whole page I'm running out of things to read! Please please PLEASE make another part!
Thank you so much!
You've found my work just in time, because as it so happens, after about two years of writers block, I've finally started writing again. I don't know when I'll be finished with the next part, but I have started it and made a decent chunk on it. I've been struggling because it's actually a smut piece, which I have never written and have never attempted to write. It'll get done eventually though, and I hope that it doesn't disappoint lol.
not sure if you're still active but just wanted to lyk i really enjoyed your yandere aizawa fic :) hope you're well!
Aww thank you so much! Technically I am active but not posting (I’ll be adding On Hiatus to my bio). My schooling has consumed all of my time so I haven’t been able to write at all.
I really appreciate your kind words and concern :)
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