β No Minors. Age regressors DNI, sorry. Bigots of all flavors get blocked. Cishets & lesbians can follow but don't be weird, I'm a man. I might still follow you if you post stuff from my hard limits but don't involve me in it, thanks! β
Looks so bad because I did it mostly in pens bec I am impatient and donβt wanna sketch in pencils too long *tapos nagmano-mano sa ballpen*.
My phone canβt capture the right colors but the colors are so nice irl I wanna rip it out of my sketchbook and eat it.
Anyways, itβs 3 AM. I love these Languo pens and markers, I donβt usually do traditional but itβs nice to just rawdog straight up pensβ like, literally no erasing, no undo buttonβto get rid of perfectionist tendencies. TIME TO draw on my table until the sun rises SLEEP
TW: slight NSFW, degradation, dehumanization, Stockholm Syndrome, Mahito in and of himself, platonic to romantic yandere
fem reader
Mahito makes it a point to treat you like an animal βΒ his human pet.
Ever since he first took you. The cage, the collar, the petting, and the treats.Β
Most of the time, when he talks to you, he acts as though youβre incapable of understanding complex conversation, using only a few words and simple commands β a smile stretching his face, stroking your head when you do good. Other times, he acts as though heβs forgotten you can even speak at all. The worst part is β you donβt really know whether heβs faking or not.Β
He takes you for walks and plays with you β letting you off the leash for a game of hideΒ΄nΒ΄seek in the forest where he chases you down barefoot β he doesnβt really care about the rules or that heβs breaking the basic premise of the game. He just laughs, liking the way you pant and wince against the mossy floor after heβs hunted and tackled you down for the umpteenth time, sweaty while you beg him to take you home with teary eyes and puffy cheeks.Β Home βΒ being where he keeps you.
You used to refuse, you used to run away and fight him when he caught you β with scratching and clawing and biting and barking, but you soon learned to behave. He told you he had no use for rabid pets and threatened you with transfiguration, warning you not to bore him, and ultimately β after having seen him twist enough people into mockeries β you stopped doing much more than obey.
Youβre constantly blue with bruises and stinging from scratches β but you wash in the hot springs when Mahito brings you along β soaking your aching muscles in the warmth while he cheats in playing Marco Polo, sneaking a peak and tagging you with a laugh β awfully resembling that of a child. You swear you often have to shake the feeling of mothering him out of your head before doing something regrettable.
Other times, heβll take you to the beach. You asked him once how it was possible, but heβd just booped your nose with a smile and told you it was something you wouldnβt be able to wrap your little head around β and, looking towards the horizon of the never-ending sea, inside what you could have sworn was a concrete building, you couldnβt help but agree with him.
Sometimes you see hisΒ friendsΒ and hide behind him. He thinks it funny and excuses you, laughing out that youβre shy. And you suppose heβs right.Β
You used to be shy around him, too. You donβt know when you accepted it βΒ being his pet.
Lately, heβs been inviting you to sleep with him in his hammock instead of your cage. And everything except your left brain betrays you as you lie snug against his side, with his arm softly holding you around your midriff. Heβs so warm, and your whole body feels cottony at the pleasantness of anotherβs embrace after having gone so long without it. Actually,Β you almost cry, resting your head atop the rise and fall of his chest, closing your eyes to the steady beat of his heart thumping just beneath your ear. In the moment, you even forget he isnβt human. It just feels nice.Β
You donβt even mind when he dances his fingers up your arm in ticklish touches. Instead, you nuzzle into him with something so vulnerable as aΒ moanΒ leaving your lips.Β
His eyes travel from reading the pages of his book to the blissful look on your face and the way your smaller hand grips his tunic β but he doesnβt make much of it aside from raising a brow.
Heβs seen scenes like this at the theatre βΒ sappyΒ love stories Junpei used to cry his eyes out overΒ β awkward teenagers in dark silent bedrooms and clothes on the floor, then kisses and hugs and naked flesh and sweat and heavy breaths and moaning. He canβt deny it makes him curious despite never having felt any personal need to truly understand any of it. It's a human thing after all.
Your warmth makes him wonder, though. Heβs always enjoyed the soft feel of your skin on his fingertips, whether youβre trembling or not β it has an interesting texture β warm and doughy.Β He could imagine it would feel good pressed against his body, too.
Without a word, he tugs your shirt up your torso, pulling on it until you raise your arms and allow him to remove it entirely. You became a little tense then, hiding your naked chest from him by folding your arms.Β
He takes off his tunic just as casually, and you donβt understand it, but suddenly you feel a littleΒ blushy. But you donβt say anything β almost as though youβve forgotten you can speak just the way he pretends.
His skinβs ashen and pale β but his torso is just like a normal guyβs β toned with muscles, two nipples, and a belly button. Oh,Β and stitches. Like a patchwork.
He lifts his arm, and you take the cue, laying down again β now skin to skin. Heβs even warmer now, you note β and something about the feel of bare skin makes your head hot. And you can't help how that heat spreads between your thighs β but you keep it to yourself.
He lifts his book and begins reading it again, turning the pages with the same hand he holds it up with. But his free hand travels from resting on your hip to your chest.
You suppress a shudder by biting your lip, and he cups your tit with absentminded curiosity β paying you not a glance while his eyes lazily skim the words in front of him, giving your breast a firm squeeze.
He keeps track of your small shufflings despite you trying to keep them to yourself β charting what touches elicit your reactions. Soon, he finds your nipple, feeling it stiffen with yearning beneath his thumb, pushing it like a button only for it to bud out again. You stifle a sound he hasnβt heard from you before.
He reads his book finished, then lets it drop flat on the floor beneath you. His statement is like a resolution. βLetβs play a new game.β
You peek up at him from the nook of his arm. βGame?β You ask, but he's already maneuvering your body despite it causing an unsteady swing in the hammock.
He ignores both it and your question. Giving you those very curt commands one would say to a trained pet. βUp on my lap.β
You follow. βOkay-β
Youβre straddling him next. Bare-chested while he lifts both hands to cup each tit.
Youβre fully flushed now, face steadily getting dewy from the heat as you look away β bowing your head off to the side with your teeth sunk into your lip.
Heβs playing. Groping the pillows with fingers now swallowed in the fat before releasing again, twisting the perky nips with eyes feeling a little foggy at the sight. His mouth suddenly waters, thinking about how it looks as though they were made to be eaten β no, not eaten exactly, but something else, something similar...
Indulging the thought, he leans in and envelopes the sensitive things between his lips, sucking on them with his warm wet tongue circling and flicking the point.
Old instincts resurface at the pleasant feeling and you grind your hips down on his lap without thinking.
He falls victim to it, too β taking your hips in both hands while grinding whatever it is thatβs gaining weight between his thighs up into that place between yours.
The feeling is more than nice, forcing his entire body to be both mellow and tense with a hunger for more all at the same time.
He presses his face entirely against your chest, nuzzling between the soft mounds there with his cheek. Hands slipping from your hips to pull you closer and grind you harder down on his lap, slithering his arms around the small of your back and hugging you hard.
And you donβt want to think about how fucked up it is when youΒ needΒ it so badly β rolling your hips down, riding that bump you feel nudged against your crotch β like it's the only source of comfort you've had for months. You think about its size β it feels big β you canβt help but picture it β long and pale, probably with a curve and a sharp spine βΒ fuck,Β you need it β want it pounding your guts, want his pelvis slapping against your clit as his fat cock shoves against your womb β filling you up with thick and filthy warmth-
You still with a shudder when you climax, breaths heavy and shaky. In the blind chase, youβd caressed his head and held it to your chest like a lover would, hugging him close with your body pressed flat against him.
Heβs also panting, hot and damp huffs dewy against your skin.
There's something sticky in his pants⦠and he could have sworn your souls had merged there for a moment...
β‘ TW: noncon, yandere, disassociation, a little angsty maybe
β‘ FEM reader
β‘ AN: Been thinking about Mahito and sorcerer reader latelyβ¦
Youβd caught a break, finally. Heβd fucked up, and now you were going to settle this once and for all. Right here, right fucking now.
Itβs almost enough to make you feel a little nostalgic. Youβd been chasing him for so long already, fellow sorcerers and friends dead in his wake, sacrificing so much in the pursuit. And it was all going to be made worth it now. Finally, you could visit their graves with something to show for it.
Onlyβ¦
Thatβs not what happens.
Youβre the one who fucks up. Youβre the one who ends up getting caught, strung up by your wrists against the cold concrete wall of a cellar, waiting for this dance the two of youβve been duetting to finally come to a bitter conclusion.
In the fight, heβd tossed you around quite a bitβand you him, only none of it showed now, his pale stitched skin all healed without a trace of your small victories. Meanwhile, blood runs down your temple, popped lip, scratches on your knees, uniform ripped to ribbons, hanging off your body in unsightly ways.Β
He doesnβt need to touch your skin directly to transfigure you, but it would seem he prefers it, running those cold grey fingertips up the exposed expanse of your stomach, way gentler than what youβd imagine, softly, nearly reverentβit would seem he intends to bask in it. Suppose, this was a big moment for him as well.
His eyes, one dark blue and the other grey like the rest of him, both look pitch black now, pupil-fat and staring.
Voice raspy with a question, βYouβ ever dream about this?β
Itβs an odd thing to say, but his habit of making small talk right before a kill is something youβve witnessed before.
For an act so human to be twisted like that used to make you stomach churn, now it just leaves you wanting him to speed it along. And so, you decide against indulging him with an answer.
Still, in your head, you give it a second. Thinking yes, you have, plenty of times, imagined just this. Itβs a normal thingβto think about oneβs death. Only the word he uses is a little ill-fitting. Sure, youβve thought about it many times, though you wouldn't say itβs something youβve dreamt about.
βI have,β he answers in your stead, unbothered by your silence as his fingertips press into your skin. βSo many times.βΒ
Itβs a weird feeling. Something within you or something encompassing you, youβre not sure, reacts to the touch. Itβs your soul, you supposeβtremoring in suspense, in vivid dread of getting mangled into something unrecognizable.
βHow Iβd do itβ¦ How Iβd touch youβ¦β
Itβs an awful ability. Something truly disgusting, and yet, the look on his face, heβs miles high like a child on Christmas morning, nearly innocent-looking while swallowing thickly beneath a heavy breath, eyes set on where heβs touching your soul and thinking about the possibilities of what to do with it now that itβs all his.Β
It makes you want to vomit. But, strangely enough, your fear of it is nowhere. Instead, thereβs this oddly comforting sense of acceptance draping you, keeping you warm in the moments before the coming cold, knowing itβs inevitable. This is fine, you think, and really believe it. You gave it your all, bled for it, and now you were going to die, leaving no regrets.
You close your eyes. Ready for the light.
βIβve been curious about itβ¦β he continues, and you fear heβs going to drag this out whether you indulge him or not. βYou knowβ¦ about humans and their need to be close.β
It gives you pauseβunsure what he just said, unsure what he meant. And the confusion, fed uncomfortable conspiracies by the back of your head, makes your stomach fold abruptly.
Skin going cold, your eyes peel open, looking down at the curse before you with ears drawn back. Heβs closer nowβstill keeping a keen glare at your core, looking through your flesh to the thing within it. His breath tickles the peachfuzz found there, making it shiver, and you swallow thickly while goosebumps break out on your nape, resulting in a shiver carving a path down your spine.
βIt made me think about youβ¦β he says, his voice low and unlike him with his hand flat, keeping calm on your stomach. βIf you ever let someone close.β
Your skin prickles with a strange warmthβenergeticβnot entirely unlike the type youβve felt when treated by Shoko.Β
Heβs healing you, you notice. Stitching your body back together with your soul as a conduit.
βI got a confession to make.β His gaze breaks from your torso as he looks up at you, still with his hand kept in place, now rubbing patterns into the fully healed fleshβeyes big. βI wanna be the one. The one you let close.β
You whimper then as a fear youβve never felt the likes of festers in your chest, right beneath his godawful touch, and spreads with your beating heart in a rapid haste into every corner of your body.
And yet, despite your clear aversive dread, feeling you squirm before him, he presses on with his horrifying speech, βI wanna make you feel good.β Getting closer as his voice drops lower, just shy of frenzied. βI wanna hear you moan my name and beg me for more with pretty please on your tongue as I give your soul everything only I know it needs.β Rust shivering, he looks at your lips, then your neck, then the fast shutter of your winded chest. βWanna make you need meβ¦ wanna make you incomplete without me.β
His other hand ascendsβpointerfinger sharpening into something knifelike and used to slip under the remaining paths keeping your attire together before cutting them loose.
Your shirt falls to the floor once heβs done, leaving your upper body in your binder and your breath in your throat.
βI guess what Iβm saying isβ¦ Iβve realized something new about my true nature.β
He presses his head against your chest, ear over your heart, listening to it patter with the shifty rise and fall of your lungs lulling him as he feels your soul swish about within youβsuch a reactive little thing. He canβt put his finger on when he started thinking it was cute.Β
He holds your waist and nuzzles against you, mumbling under his breath that, βHate and fear arenβt all that different from love.β Breath hot and dewy against your breast, he sighsβsinking further into you. βAnd I wanna know what yours will feel like.β
Youβre trembling now, fully, violently. Feeling your chest cave at the weight of his head as the grim and dire distress leaves you mute, making you unable to form any other feelings except fear of the unthinkable.
βI can see it, you know?β His words are smeared against the fat of your tit, paying no regard to your struggle. βItβs all right here.β His cheek drags against your skin, turning his head until his lips are at your sternum, kissing the space with his words. βYou havenβt had someone in a long time.β
He looks up at you, now with a smile, saying, βAnd how could you?β Making you whimper and shake your head, feeling his fingertips grace the skin of your midriff and slip beneath the band of your skirt. βWhen youβve been so busy chasing me.β
He drags it down your hips, letting it drop atop your abandoned shirt.
βDonβtββ escapes from your lips. βJustβjust kill meββ
βDon't start with that now,β he shakes his head. βWe've done so much already. Don't tell me this is where you draw the line?β
His tongue rolls out, laying itself flat against your collar. You squeal through grit teeth, veering your head away from the assault, and cringing as you feel it drag itself up along your neck until finding your ear.
βIsnβt this natural, though?β he whispers. βAll this time spent tussling with each otherβdonβt tell me you arenβt a little curious about me too?β
Again, his hands moveβgently, trailing the brim of your boxers.Β
βAbout what it would feel likeβ¦β he murmurs, the words hot inside your ear, inside your head as his fingers dip beyond the band and rake past it, and with the touch, drags them down. βTo touch meβ¦β
You whimper, barring your thighs together, trying to keep it from happening, but your underwear is removed regardless of the effort, and he continues, almost sweetly, βBe touched by meβ¦β
The article drops down atop the other two before it, and although featherlight, you feel as though the crash creates an earthquake, making your head spin like a storm, only further spurred by his voice, βFeel me...β
His breath gets heavier as yours gets wilder, and he gives your earlobe a soft wet bite. βBe one together.β
It all puts your brain on ice. Or rather, pushes it out and replaces it with soaked cotton. Surreal, it no longer feels like your body hanging there. Overfull with all sorts of emotions, you donβt have the capacity to feel any one of them. You canβt think, canβt talk, canβt even move, can only waitβwith a distant sense of being out of place, leaving you to hang there like dead meat as the coming events dawn on you like the happenings of someone far away, unrelated and unconcerning you.
Meanwhile, Mahitoβs handβs between your thighs with fingers tracing the lips found there, giving the slit tentative strokes.
βI've never done this beforeβ¦β His voice shudders nowβand caught in the dissociation, your troubled head is convinced this is all normal, as though youβre having drunk sex with someone youβve known for a long time. βBut I think I get the gist of itβ¦βΒ
The reality of the situation lurks just behind the fantasy. Your mind suppresses it, protects you from it, and succeeds, even letting you moan when his finger pushes inside you.Β
βIs that right?β he asks, sinking it in, down to the knuckle, before pulling it out to the tip again. βItβs wetβ¦β
Voice in awe, he repeats the motion upon the discovery, moving quicker nowβeagerly chasing your reactions as he collects them, feeling your insides, gummy and warm, tremoring just like your soul. Itβs like nothing heβs ever done before.
βI get why you humans like this so muchβ¦β
Something in his pants wants the same attention. Something thick and equally warm, growing in size until it strains against it confines. He moans, almost whines at the feeling, rubbing it against your thigh for comfort as his hand reaches up to grab your face, cupping your chin.Β
βLook at meβ he very nearly begs, lips on your cheek, staring at you through halfmast eyes.
But your eyes remain shut. Knowing that if you open them now, you can no longer ignore whatβs happening, no longer imagine something else, something more stomachable.Β
βCome on, Iβm bearing my soul hereβ¦β A light laugh escapes him at the sight of your face so closeβnot loud like his usual cackling, but airy, maybe even a little giddy, beholding the pretty dew on your cheeks as he insists, almost with a please, βLook at me.β
When you open your eyes, the tears slip free. Trekking down in thick rivers, reaching his mouth and tongue.
βOhβ¦ you're breaking my heart,β he saysβsomewhat as a joke, and somewhat as something more honest as he sucks the salt of your cheek before humming with something ragged in his throat, βBut thatβs okayβ¦ As I saidβ¦β
Another finger joins the first down below as he angles your face towards his, ghosting your lips with his, speaking against them.
βThere isnβt much difference between love and hate, anyway.β
Therapist. Licking the tip of his finger, the man flips through his notes. The girl sits silently on the couch. Her misty eyes stare at the clock on the wall.
βAre you ready to begin?β
She doesnβt reply. Her therapist taps his pen on the paper. Two clicks of the pen, and he scratches out a few notes. She shudders slightly.
βLetβs get started. From the top, letβs go over what happened that night.β Her eyes drift down to the floor. ββ¦again?β She swallows her words. βTrust the process.β
βUhmβ¦ I went out dancingβ¦β The girlβs unfocused expression is blank and docile. Her therapist adjusts his glasses and watches her carefully. βAnd what were you wearing?βΒ She picks at her nails, avoiding the question. ββ¦the clothes I showed youβ¦β He nods. βDid you wear them today, like I suggested last time?β
Visibly nervous, the girl holds onto the fabric on the hem of her shirt. ββ¦yesβ¦ under hereβ¦β The man smiles. βThatβs good. Youβve come a long way from our first session. I remember you didnβt even want to look at those clothes.β He clicks his pen twice. βLetβs see them.β
Shallow breaths. She wants him to fix her. Lifting up the shirt, she reveals a thin lace top. He takes more notes. Her sweatpants slide down. A tiny frilly skirt barely hides her blue-and-white striped panties. Long socks match her underwear. Her therapist examines her. βWhy do you think you chose to wear that outfit that night?β
Embarrassed, the girl tries to hide her body behind her frail arms. βIt was a raveβ¦ lots of girls dress like thisβ¦β He doesnβt respond, letting the silence invite her insight. ββ¦I guess I wanted attentionβ¦β The man writes on his pad. βWell, you certainly got it. Tell me more about what happened.β
βWas a little drunkβ¦ lost my friendsβ¦ dancing on the floorβ¦ some guy started touching meβ¦β Her small voice fades off. βMmhm. Touching you where?β Sheβs getting more nervous. He adjusts his glasses and watches her breathe. βHe was groping my tits.β
The man clicks his pen twice. She shudders. His hand reaches out and cups her breast. βDid he grab you like this?β The girl whimpers, her tiny bralet lets her feel each one of his fingers searching her. βNoβ¦ was rougherβ¦β Her therapist pushes his hand under the lace, squeezing and gripping her tits. βLike this?β
She nods. ββ¦pinching my nipples and stuffβ¦β He recreates it for her. βDressed up like that, itβs no wonder some guy wanted to put his hands on youβ¦β The man can feel her rapid heartbeat in her chest. βSo what happened next?β
ββ¦uhmβ¦ told him to stopβ¦β He squeezes harder. His other hand lifts up her skirt. βWhy did you do that? Youβre letting him see your panties, donβt you think thatβs a bit of a mixed signal?β The girl blushes a deep red. ββ¦I dunnoβ¦ I tried to get awayβ¦ he followed me to some old hallway at the back of the club.β
βGoing somewhere a little more private? Sounds like you were trying to get fucked.β Her body twitches in his hands. He clicks his pen again. She lets out a short gasp. βNoβ¦ was just trying to have funβ¦ told him to leave me aloneβ¦ he grabbed my neck.β The man lifts his hand up from her tits, holding her by her throat. A firm squeeze makes her face turn pink.
βDid he choke you? Like this?β She can barely breathe. The girl nods, her eyes close. βWhat happened next?β She shakes her head. βTell me what happened. Itβs important for your therapy.β He chokes her harder. βI wonβt let go until you do.β Her head spins. ββ¦kissed meβ¦β
Her therapist drags her in closer, pulling the girl onto his lap. His lips press into hers. His tongue fucks her mouth. She squirms and tries to push him away. He releases the choke, holding the back of her neck to keep kissing her. The girl slowly stops fighting.
βYouβre doing good. Letβs keep going. What did you let him do next?β
Drool runs down her chin. Her distant expression is almost lifeless. βDragged me into the janitorβs closetβ¦ shoved me into the cornerβ¦β He nods and kisses her cheek. βOkay, weβll go through that now.β
His powerful hands grip her by the waist. She stumbles as he drags her across the room. He pushes her to the floor in the corner of the room. βIβm sure you were fighting more than that. Donβt leave out any details.β The girlβs eyes start to water. Her terrified breaths are short and raspy. The pen sits on the table by the couch. βCome on, tell me.β
βI was crying, begging him to not do itβ¦ I sucked his dickβ¦ thought it would keep him from β β The therapist cuts her off. βLetβs not get ahead of ourselves.β He strokes her hair. βItβs okay to cry here. Let it out.β She sobs. βI didnβt want it.β The man unbuckles his belt. Sheβs back in that closet in the nightclub. Tears run down her face.
The girl is still sobbing as she wraps her lips around his cock. Her head bobs quickly. The therapist grips the back of her head, fucking into her throat. He lets out a satisfied groan as her tears and spit mix, drooling down her slutty outfit. βSo, you thought if you made him cum, he wouldnβt fuck you?β He doesnβt look down, but he can feel her nod.
βTry harder, then.β
Stroking his shaft, she sucks off her therapist. The girl does everything she can. Forcing it as deep as it can go, rubbing his balls, running her tongue along the bottom of his shaft. Her facefucking gets more desparate. She knows sheβs running out of time.
βDid he cum in your throat?β The man growls. She shakes her head no. He smiles and pushes his glasses up his nose. βGuess he needed more, huh? Keep telling me the story.β The girl gasps for air. βPlease, noβ¦ just let me suck your cockβ¦ pleaseβ¦ not that partβ¦β Her therapist lays his dick across her face. βYouβre almost there, keep going.β
He uses her tears as lube as he rubs himself across her cheeks. βHe pulled my panties downβ¦ forced my legs openβ¦ heβ¦ heβ¦β The man kneels down and follows the script. A sharp tug pulls her cute panties off her legs. βYouβre more wet than last time. Thatβs good. Youβve made a lot of progress.β Her toes point into the air. He buries his cock in her pussy.
She lets out a quiet scream. The girlβs body starts to fight him. He pins her wrists to the floor and ruts into her. βHe held you like this, right?β Even as she struggles, she nods. βWas his cock my size?β A pathetic whine. βNo, youβre a lot biggerβ¦β
The therapist pounds into his patient. βIβmβ¦β The girl twitches underneath him. βIβmβ¦β Deep hard strokes. βNoβ¦β She whimpers. The patient cums on her therapistβs cock. Her head spins as he breaks her. βDid you cum?β The man asks, inches from her face. βYesβ¦β He keeps going. βI meant the night that it happened.β She looks up at him, filled with shame. βYesβ¦β
βYouβve done so well. Weβre almost all the way through. He came in your cunt, didnβt he?β
The girlβs eyes light up with fear. βNo no noβ¦ not that partβ¦ please, no, stopβ¦β Her warm wet pussy tightens involuntarily around his cock. βThatβs what happened, isnβt it? Itβs okay to let go.β She tries to fight again. Her fingers claw at his chest before he pins them to the floor again. βPlease, no, stop. I want to stop. I donβt want to do this anymore.β
βIs that what you told him?β He thrusts faster into her slippery hole. βDonβt cum inside of me. Donβt donβt donβt donβtβ¦β She bursts into tears again. βDid he cum in you?β The therapistβs soothing voice makes her shudder. βYes, but I canβt go through that partβ¦ I canβtβ¦β He kisses her, stroking her head like a terrified animal.
The man gasps and lets out a long exhale. She feels his cum flood into her. The catatonic girl stares down at her used pussy as he slowly slides out. The sticky damp of her therapistβs cum pours down her ass. She can see him talking, but all she can hear is pounding in her ears.
He relaxes on the couch. The girlβs tongue cleans his cock. βDid you do this for him?β The man slowly rubs her back. ββ¦nu-uhβ¦β She nuzzles into his bulge. βYouβve come so far. You almost made it all the way through the story before you tried to stop the therapy.β
βI think youβre close to a breakthrough. Iβd like to bump you up to two sessions a week for the next little while.β The girl feels his half hard cock twitch in her mouth. He clicks his pen twice. She nods as his hands grope her tits.
Calling him a faggot and a bitch and a slut as I fuck his ass with a nice thick strap, holding him down as he struggles underneath me. Pumping cum lube into his ass until he looks pregnant, making jokes about how I knocked him up as he sobs in pain and discomfort. Locking his pathetic little cock up in a cage and threatening to throw the key out so he's stuck like this permanently unless he really shows me how much he likes getting his pussy fucked π₯°
dreamed about two hot emo boys luring me into a room where there were 3-4 shapeshifters including them and they told me directly they were going to r4pe me with various shaped cocks and i got so fucking wet and they bullied me for it π΅βπ« then towards the end one of the hot emo guys was fucking me with a knotted cock and i kept pushing back on him and he went "ohh we have a winner" and i asked "can i please cum sir" and he laughed at me and said "since you were so polite yes... but not now" and pulled out and fuckkkkk im gonna SCREAM
cockwarming a priest whoβs trying so so hard to be good. heβs never been inside before, and itβs taking everything within his power not to buck up into you. your cunt squeezes around him, every little flutter threatens to push him over the edge. as long as he doesnβt move itβs not a sin right? how foolish he was to think heβd have the strength to deny himself this.
similar thought to convincing robin to work at the brothel
i wish you could visit whitney at the UB or even play a more active role in sending him there... showing him "mercy" by spending his first day(s?) training his holes so he doesnt get absolutely brutalized right out the gate. watching him slowly break... arf
