Roulette - Chisaki Kai/overhaul

The Sweetest Torture - Karma Akabane

A/N: Here is my second comm, for @kyberhearts​ who so graciously let me run wild and splurge on indulging us with our God! She knew my nasty ass was going to get carried away and I was on my best behavior to write a good girl for her. Hope y’all enjoy! <3

Music Inspo: “End of All Days” by 30 Seconds to Mars; “Mirrors” by Natalia Kills; “Teeth” by Lady Gaga & “Flesh” by Simon Curtis.

Warnings: 18+ Content, Minors DNI.  (Smut: Masochist! Reader; M/s dynamics (pet/owner, master/slave), bondage, forced stimulation (use of toys), degradation, pain play, strike/impact play (slaps, flogger), knife & fear play, slight blood play, sensory depravation, dacryphilia, edging, squirting and rough af sex. Aftercare and a pinch of praise to follow.)

Word Count: 5.1k

“I punish you with pleasure, And pleasure you with pain.”

“You didn’t greet me at the door…how disappointing.”

The soft clack of boots against the floor echoed in your head like a countdown, fidgety fingers tugging and smooth the thin red straps that criss-crossed your curves. The closer the noise drew, the more your heart began to thud in your chest as if trying to mimic the same beat. Your eyes burning holes into the wood of the door, straightening up as the steps paused and the crystal handle began to turn. The sweetest smile curving up your lips as it was thrown wide to reveal the man you had been impatiently waiting for, tired eyes landing on you as he cocked a brow.

“Welcome home, Master~” You purred, hands folded neatly behind your back, leaving your lingerie clad body on display for his hungry gaze.

“That’s why, is it…?” Karma mused idly, closing the bedroom door behind him and strolling toward you as he began to pop the first several buttons of his white dress shirt while eyeing you up.

Coming to a halt in front of you, he tilted his head as he ran the back of his knuckles along your cheek, smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth at the way such a simple touch had your lashes fluttering and your lips parting with a content sigh. You had missed this, his hands on you, more than you had even realized until this moment. Karma had been gone on ‘business’ for several weeks now and you had wanted to make his homecoming special–surely he had missed you just as much, right?

“It’s such a shame, I’m exhausted, pet.” He mused, tone raspy as he roughly patted at your cheek with a click of his tongue, stepping to move around you.

“I thought…you’d like to unwind, sir. I wanted, want, to help.” You explained as you took a side-step to place yourself in his line of vision again, swallowing hard as you caught the way his amber hues began to darken.

“You thought?” He asked with a skeptical brow, letting out a light laugh when you eagerly nodded in reply, knuckles grazing your heated flesh again until he gripped up your chin. “We’ve been through this before, darling, thinking isn’t your strong suit is it?”

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hi i live for your writings and ily <33 anyways can you please write something about hard!dom geto? this man has been living in my head for months and i ca't get enough of him. thanks!!

this geto is very mean i apologise

reblogs and comments are much appreciated / my jjk masterlist

running your mouth - geto x fem!reader (3.2k)

you violate the terms of the agreement you and geto have during a meeting, and that means that he gets to punish you.

warnings: not sfw. afab reader, fem pronouns. dom/sub relationship, degradation, spanking, impact play, pussy spanking, blowjobs, light choking, use of words like ‘whore’ and ‘slut’, power imbalance, no aftercare. 

It’s easy to slip up when somebody is watching you and waiting for it to happen.

For you, it’s a small mistake – you’re never supposed to interrupt Geto, but he’d thrown out somebody’s name in one of the meetings between his commanders and himself and gotten it wrong, and you’d gently corrected it. Geto’s eyes had flown over to you, dark and sharp – and he’d closed them, tipped his head to the side, and said;

“Yes, you’re right. Thank you!” A smile on his face. It hadn’t alerted anybody else in the room to how he was feeling, but you’d felt it travel down your spine like a cool fingertip. That smile, that light lilt in his dark voice – those were promises for later on tonight, and you squeeze your thighs together under the table as you think about how he’ll punish you this time.

Because the truth is that both you and Suguru Geto know that it’s not important if he remembers the names of unimportant monkeys. Both you and Suguru Geto know that your arrangement means you stick to the rules that he gives you, and if you don’t stick to them, he gets to punish you any way that he sees fit. Both you and Suguru Geto, then, know that you slipped up on purpose because you wanted him to punish you.

That makes you a brat.

And if there’s one thing Geto enjoys, it’s taming unwieldy little brats exactly like you and reminding you exactly who your master is.

He leaves you waiting in his bedroom for half an hour longer than he said he would, until you can feel anticipation fizzing in every inch of you, your legs bouncing on the floor where you’re sat on the chair by his desk. The sound of the door handle being turned makes heat spark low in your stomach, your heart skip a beat – and there he is, as handsome and unruffled as ever as he walks into the room and simply looks at you for a moment.

There’s disappointment on his face, his mouth pulled into a sneer as he heaves a dark sigh that seems to rattle through your bones.

“Oh, darling,” he says, pulling the word out slow and drawling. “What am I supposed to do with you? You know the rules. I know you know them.”

You blink innocently up at him, your heart pounding. He raises one thin eyebrow before he points at the floor in front of him.

“Clothes off,” he demands. “On your knees. You should already be there, really, begging for my forgiveness-- but you like being punished, don’t you?” He tuts, sighs, shakes his head. “Insatiable little slut. Come on. Hurry up.”

You stand up, quickly, your fingers trembling as you go to pull off your clothing. Through your clumsy movements, Geto’s mouth remains set in a straight line, his eyes half-lidded. He’s thrown off the robes that he wears whilst playing his part – now, he’s in comfortable dark sweatpants and a shirt that clings tightly to a surprisingly muscled abdomen. You try not to stare, though you always want to when he’s like this. Unguarded. Comfortable. Utterly in control--

“If you don’t get here soon,” he says, a warning tone to his voice, “I’ll add ten strikes to your punishment.”

Your underwear goes last, your fingers inexpertly pulling down straps and unclipping the hooks and eyes so that you can finally get on the floor. The floorboards are hard and uncomfortable beneath your bare knees, but you don’t complain as you put your hands on top of your thighs and look up at him, awaiting his next order.

Geto leaves the threat of what he’s going to ask next hanging in the air for a few moments as he enjoys the sight of you, helpless and docile at his feet. A hand reaches down and gently strokes over your cheek, thumb brushing your lip – and then, he hooks his thumb between your lips and forces your mouth open.

“That position suits you better than one at my side,” he sighs. “And if you hadn’t forced my hand, perhaps I’d have just used your mouth . . . well. There’s no point dwelling on the past.”

He steps away, leaving you mouth open and naked on the floor. He hums under his breath as he opens a drawer by his bed, as he pulls out – you feel your face go hot.

“Don’t move,” he says, without turning around. “Not a muscle.”

He considers the belt for a moment, and then the paddle, and finally the flogger, laying them out on his bed, tipping his head to the side once more as he decides between them. You can feel slickness pooling between your thighs, but you tense your muscles not to move no matter how much you want to squeeze them together and seek the friction you’re desperate for.

“No,” he says, in the end. “I think I’ll use my hand. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror for the next few days and see handprints shaped like mine and remember exactly what I can do to you.”

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and crosses his knees, elegant and at home with the situation.

He crooks a finger towards you, giving you one simple command;

“Crawl.”

You swallow as you lean forward on your hands and knees, moving towards him agonisingly slowly. You know he’ll notice if you move in a way that purposely lets your thighs rub together, and you know you’ll be punished for it – but with Geto watching your every move with those sharp, dark eyes, you can’t resist. He lets out an impatient sigh.

“Five extra,” he says. “Don’t be a greedy whore.”

The way he says it makes you whine, and he shakes his head as you finally reach him again. You don’t move, yet. Geto taps his knee.

“You know what to do, don’t you?” He asks, off-handedly. “I’ve done this to you enough times. You just keep making me correct you.” A sigh as you settle yourself over his lap on the bed, your stomach pressing against an obvious stiffness in Geto’s pants. He doesn’t react to it. He’s a master of his own control.

One of his big hands takes a generous squeeze of the softness of your ass, clicking his tongue.

“Pity,” he says. “You’d been doing so well. I hope this will teach you a lesson.”

And he hits you for the first time. You didn’t even hear the displacement of air as he drew back, and you jolt at the red-hot shocks of pain that radiate from where his palm has slapped against you.

“Count,” he growls, low. “And remember to be polite.”

“Y-yes!” You babble, your head already full of cotton wool. “O-one! Thank you, Master--”

(Geto likes ‘Sir’, or ‘Master’. In punishments, he prefers the latter, and you can never get over the sound of it issuing forth from your mouth. It feels so good. So right, to be beneath and below him like this. To have dedicated every moment to what Geto wants from you.)

He lets out a little, amused noise, but does not call you anything so louche as a ‘good pet’. He’s always rough with you. Praise is few and far between, and when it does come out of his mouth it’s only after he’s fucked you so hard you can no longer even gather the strength to stand.

The second slap, on the other cheek, stings worse than the first – Geto’s strength is occasionally astounding, his palm flat and hard against your softness.

“T-two! Thank you, Master--”

You do your best to keep track of the thick and fast spanks, though Geto leaves you bare moments in between them, and your mind feels fuzzy with how hot your ass is under the rough treatment. After the twelfth spank, two of his fingers delve between your thighs, pulling open the lips of your cunt so he can look at it. You receive a sigh.

“You’re dripping,” he says. “You’re a shame to yourself. You can’t even take a punishment without needing to be fucked, darling?”

“P-please,” you whimper, bucking backwards and hoping that he’ll give you some relief from the tight ball of tension that you feel like you have trapped between your legs. “N-need--”

“I know exactly what you need,” he says. “Now. Come on. You earned twenty five strikes, and I’m not even halfway through – grit your teeth and take your punishment. I’d tell you to be good, but . . .” Another open-palmed spank, harder than the others, and your count and thanks come out a garbled mess. “Both of us know that’s out of the question, don’t we?”

You earn another five strikes for losing track at twenty three, until your entire ass feels like it’s on fire and you have to press your forehead to the cool bed-covers beneath them and try and control your breathing. You’re a mess – trembling thighs, your slick all over your legs and definitely running down to stain the fabric of what Geto’s wearing. You’re absolutely aching to have something inside of you. You feel so empty that you feel like if Geto doesn’t fuck you, you’ll die.

“Master,” you whimper, as you’re permitted to dismount his lap, and you’re deposited on your knees with Geto back above you. He raises his eyebrows, running a hand through his silky dark hair as he regards you – the pout on your face, the tear-trails that have stained your cheeks from his rough spanking. “Please--”

You rub your cheek against his knee, still looking up at him. His lips turn up at the corners, a wicked glint in his eye that makes you squirm – and then, regret squirming for how the heels of your feet dig into your poor tender flesh.

“You’re being inarticulate,” he tells you, with a small smirk. Your chin is once again jerked, Geto leaning his elbows on his knees so his face is closer to yours but still above you. “Tell me exactly what you want, if you can get your pretty little head to think for once in your life.”

You swallow. His eyes, trained on you, are so intense. Everything about the way he sits and handles you whispers that he’s in control, that he knows what he’s doing, that you’re the unimportant person in the room and you ought to know your place. You get a mean little jerk as your mouth falls open.

“Well?” Geto’s voice is a purr. “Come on. Your head can’t be as empty as all that, surely?”

Empty.

“Please—” you say, again. “Please, it hurts, I wanna--”

That’s right. The ache between your thighs, where nothing is buried and you would really like Geto’s cock. You look up at him imploringly. He sticks his lower lip out in a mocking pout.

“Oh?” He asks. “You think you deserve to be fucked after the way you acted out there? Correcting me, interrupting me, in front of everyone? Like you know anything?”

“Please,” you repeat, again. You can feel the throb between your legs in time with your heartbeat. “Sorry, ‘m sorry, Master—”

He sighs.

“Sorry’s not good enough.” He tells you. He lets go of your chin, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants to push the fabric down along with the underwear he’s wearing, until he’s in front of you with his cock unmistakably hard. “Show me you mean it, if you want me to fuck you.”

You nod feverishly, already leaning forward and opening your mouth. You envelope the head of his cock with your lips, your tongue brushing the slit and greedily lapping at the glistening beads of pre-come that have gathered on his tip. Geto doesn’t so much as sigh – instead, one of his hands fastens around the back of your head as a warning that he could just start fucking your face whenever he wants to.

And you know from experience that he will, if he thinks you’re doing a bad job – and then, you’ll be being punished for two transgressions, and he’ll never give you what you want. You redouble your efforts. Tracing the thick vein on the underside of his shaft that always makes his grip tighten, just a little, imperceptible. Hollowing your cheeks and taking him further down your throat than you’d ordinarily be comfortable with, just so he knows how hard you’re trying to please him.

When you look up at him with your lashes coated in little trembling diamonds, you see that his eyes are half-lidded and he’s looking at you.

“What are you looking at?” He murmurs, softly. “Aren’t you trying your hardest?”

You immediately make a noise to protest that, returning to sucking his cock with earnest. Geto continues to talk, his voice all deep and lovely, a baritone that makes you squirm like nothing else.

“See? It’s so much better when your mouth is occupied, isn’t it? I should have you like this in meetings, instead. Nobody needs to know the thoughts and opinions of a needy little slut like you when your mouth was made for sucking cock, do they?” He keeps his voice polite, despite the sharp barbs that come spilling forth every time his lips open. He’s well-mannered and cool in his temperament when he’s doing this to you. One could be forgiven for thinking from his tone that he was cooing something sweet--

“Harder.” Your head is pulled forward, practically choking you on his length until your eyes water and you feel drool drip down your chin. “Don’t dawdle. Suck it like you mean it.”

You close your eyes, trying to concentrate on nothing but the taste of Geto in your mouth and the way you have to stretch your lips around him, bobbing your head. You don’t want him to punish you again. You need him to fuck you. You practically choke on his cock with each desperate dip, the head of it hitting your throat – and then, you’re being dragged off, before he’s come.

Your entire body seizes up in excitement. If he hasn’t come down your throat and he’s still that hard, that means he has plans to come somewhere else, and you hope that it’s buried inside of you so deep that you can feel his heartbeat. He sees the hopeful look in your eyes and snorts in derision.

“Desperate,” he says to you. “You’re pathetic. You’re lucky that I prefer your tight little cunt to anything else. Maybe having to hold my come in your mouth for an hour or so would make you think before you went around opening it, hmm?”

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you say, in a rush. “I won’t do it again, please fuck me--”

“There it is again,” He sighs, hands falling behind him onto the bed. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You clamp your lips shut, suddenly aware that your little outburst was not in the spirit of what Geto is trying to teach you. He stands, rolling his eyes.

“Get on the bed, then,” he says. “Legs spread wide.”

The position will hurt, even if the bedsheets are nicer than the floorboards on your poor, sore ass. But what it promises when you’re done is too much of a siren’s call for you to do anything but obey, your back hitting the mattress with a soft ‘whumph’ of air. You brace your feet on the edge of the bed, knees up, and display your sex for Geto. You can feel that you’re such a mess that you’re dripping, already making the bedsheets below you damp and sticky.

You’re expecting him to fuck into you, take hold of your legs and bend them against your chest and ram you until you can’t remember your own name, with that perfectly serene expression on his face. He’s done it enough times before.

You’re not expecting him to sink onto his own knees in order to bring his face closer to your dripping sex. You’re not expecting the way his eyes drink you in, not passing comment – you feel your hole flutter and clench in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal at the inspection.

You dare to think, for one moment, that he might use his mouth on you – but in the end, he simply sighs, shaking his head.

“Disgraceful,” he tells you. “Do you think nice, well-behaved girls get wet when they’re spanked? Do you think their holes are this needy whilst they’re being punished?” He slides a finger through the slit, gathering the mess on the pad of his digit. He shows you the way it glimmers in the light to shame you, before he wrinkles his nose as he wipes it on your thigh. “You never learn your lesson, do you?”

“I do, I do, please--” Your voice is breathy and whiny.

“Five of them,” Geto says, mildly – and then he’s pulled his hand back and he’s given your exposed core a harsh slap.

Your hips rock backwards at the impact. It’s a mix between pleasure and pain – his hands finally touching where you’re needy and burning, but abusing how sensitive you are to any graze of his fingers. You whine into the ceiling, half-pain, half-enjoyment.

“That’s more like it,” Geto murmurs. “That sorry look. Cry for me.”

The second slap. This one is harder, and the noise makes you cringe – but it makes your hole clench, your heart skip a beat. You’re panting.

Third. Fourth. You’re crying as he pulls back for the fifth, your poor sensitive cunt unused to being treated so roughly – sure, Geto fucks into you like you’re nothing more than a sleeve for his cock, but he’s never done this before. The new sensation has you reeling.

Five. His palm is soaking wet with your own arousal, your chest heaving. He gets back onto his feet, wiping his slick hand on your bare skin once more. It’s embarrassing, how saturated the palm of his hand is with your slick. You feel so sore – you’re shivering, shaking, your mind hazy with the pain.

Geto’s fingers scoop you by the hips, nails digging into the earlier places he’d spanked on your ass so hard that you feel tears well in your eyes. Those bruises are still red-hot, and the feel of him has just reminded you of their pain. Your entire bottom half feels like it’s on fire.

Geto’s hard cock nudges the cleft between your lips, where the dull throb of pain hasn’t ceased.

He thrusts into you in one long, hard motion – his balls slapping against your ass with a noise that echoes in the room along with your cry. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts--

“What’s the matter?” He asks you, as he quickly slides into a punishing rhythm, letting the sharp jut of his hipbones add another layer of pain to the experience.  His fingers continue to flex, digging into the rapidly bruising area of his spanks with every slick glide of his cock. “I thought you wanted me inside of you?”

present for his beloved (mafia!dazai osamu)

warning(s): yandere themes, implied physical abuse, intimidation, broken darling

note(s): a little something i wrote for the lovely @vani-ya​, for her birthday 💕 I hope you like it!

You whimpered uncomfortably in his lap, heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

You hated being this close to him. His mere presence around you was suffocating, permeated with the scent of blood and gunpowder, and the scent of his cologne closing in on you from all sides. It made you sick to your stomach.

He was talking to someone across the desk, barking orders at them, as if you weren’t even there. One of his arms was holding your waist in place, while the other harshly gripped one of your frail wrists. That’s going to leave a bruise.

Out of the corner of your eye, you looked at the terrified man standing across from the wide mahogany desk. His skin had gone pale, and he looked ready to bolt at the first opportunity. You didn’t blame him. People don’t realize just how terrifying Dazai’s presence is until they actually face him.

He finished talking, and the man scurried out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving you alone with him once more. You trembled in his arms.

“Now, now, my belladonna. What’s the need to be so afraid?” he murmured into your ear, pulling you even closer, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You didn’t allow yourself to relax, more out of past experience than anything else. And sure enough –

“If you behave yourself, that is.”

An expression of pure, unadulterated fear crossed your face, and he laughed. It was a deep, full laugh, and you could feel it reverberating throughout his chest from where he had you pressed flush against it.

Trying to get a better look at your eyes, he moved a lock of your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. One of the many things you weren’t allowed to do was tie your hair. He liked it loose, framing your face, said it made you look even more angelic. That, and he liked to be able to grip it whenever he wanted.

“Let’s see now…what would my darling like as her present?”

“Present?” you asked meekly.

He laughed, “My, my, do you really not remember what day it is, belladonna?”

When you shook your head, his face lit up with a sadistic grin. Most days, you weren’t even allowed to leave your room, let alone the house you shared with him. You would never call it a home. The only time you did leave was when he took you out, and it was mostly to this dark monstrosity of an office, just so he wouldn’t get bored. There are windows but he always keeps them covered.

Neither his house nor the office have any clocks, so time seems to slip from you often. You’re lucky if you can tell night from day most of the time, and you know that’s exactly what he wants. He likes you that way: disoriented, compliant, and utterly helpless.

“How air-headed you are, my love.” He said in a patronizingly mocking voice, “It’s your birthday.”

“M-my birthday?”

“Mhm, and I want to let the love of my life know, burn it into you, just how much I love you. So, tell me, belladonna. What do you want for your present?”

There was a cigarette dangling from his left hand, and you hoped to God he wouldn’t just put it out on your skin like he always did. Thankfully, he actually used the ashtray resting on his desk this time.

The smile on his face was sickly sweet, completely out of sync with the harsh grip he had on your waist, fingers digging into your hipbones. Oh, well, what’s one more bruise to add to your collection? What do I want?

“I…I d-don’t know.”

He pouted in mock sympathy, “Really, now? Is there nothing you would like me to do for you? How about I loosen the collar?”

Your hand instinctively moved up to touch the metal adorning your neck. It was horribly constricting, and it used to hurt in the beginning too. It still did, but you had kind of gotten used to it.

“Or would you want to lose the cuff on your ankle? That would make your futile attempts to escape easier, wouldn’t it?”

The cuff on your ankle wasn’t attached to anything at the moment, but he never let you take it off either. It was convenient for him, in the way that he could fasten it up to whatever he wanted, and that it also served as a constant reminder to you of your own powerlessness.

Yet, when you looked down at the cold metal harshly gripping your ankle, your gaze was blank. What do I want?

You think you used to want to run, but…now you can’t see the point. Running will not help, because each time you have tried, he has caught in the blink of an eye, and each time he has caught you, he has made it hurt more than the last time. There is nowhere you can run where he won’t find you.

“No…” You whispered, curling up in his arms and trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“What’s that?” he asked, even though you know he heard you perfectly, “Did my belladonna say she doesn’t want to run?”

You shook your head slowly, and Dazai smirked. Forcefully gripping your chin with one hand, he turned your head to face him, “So, what do you want?”

You fumbled frantically through your head for the right answer, something that would satisfy him. You know there’s something specific he wants you to say. You also know what happens if you don’t say it.

“Y-you. I want…to be with you.”

He smiles and pushes your head down to rest on his shoulder as a lone tear leaks from your eye. Then he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Good girl.”

Eager (Shigaraki x Reader)

A/N: It would seem we are all secretly into Shigaraki being overexcited and under-experienced. 

Warnings: Dry humping turned wet humping, masturbation

Taglist: @fallingintoimagination​ @ikinabi​

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You’ve been living in the League of Villains hideout for quite a while now. It’s not fancy by any standards, your makeshift room simply being a somewhat clean mattress on the floor and no furniture to be seen. The room you occupy, as well as all of the other rooms in the building, is devoid of a door.

Tactically speaking, it’s a good thing that everyone can hear each other when needed. The downside of this, is the fact that you get to hear every time someone gets into an argument or eats or talks on the phone.

Or masturbates.

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I'm like, always in an Enji mood so like lmao hi 🧍

I'm always in the mood for Enji too 🥴

18+ like ways

Just thinking about cockwarming him after a long day. He'd pull you down into his lap, whether he's on the couch or at his desk finishing paperwork, and tell you to you let him slip inside. How he just needs to feel you squeezing around him to relax a little, how irresistible you are, his perfect little Angel. He's always a tight fit. And with him not moving it was nothing but delicious preasure. The slight bump in your belly from Enji being buried so deep inside of you only causing your pleasure to grow.

"I never said you could cum," Enji growled when he felt you tighten around him and try to grind down, "be patient, let Daddy relax and I'll fuck brainless in a bit, Love".

[anakin x reader x obi-wan]

THE LATE NIGHT THOUGHTS ARE PLAGUING ME AGAIN

warnings: smut, voyeurism (without consent), masturbation, reader doesn’t have a specified gender (but is probably mostly seen as afab)

—

You’re Obi-Wan’s lover and best friends with his ex-padawan Anakin. The three of you are incredibly close, always getting along. Anakin is aware of Obi-Wan and yours’ secret tryst-relationship-thing going on, but can’t help but start to become infatuated with you as well.

Of course, he keeps this to himself because he loves Obi-Wan, but sometimes the selfish thoughts would plague him as he wonders if Obi-Wan was worth your time, worth your love. A little voice inside him says no, I’m better for them, but then his rationale would rebuke him, stating that this thought path would only lead him down to trouble, that he must accept his brother got to you first.

But one night, Anakin passes by your room on his way to bed when he heard you mumble something inside, perhaps to someone. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he backpedals to linger behind your closed door. He waits to see if he’ll hear anything else, and when he does…

“Obi-Wan- oh, yes, please right there..”

Jealousy envelopes his entire being, eating away at his insides. He can’t help it, no matter how many times he’d fought himself over thoughts of you, told himself that you chose his master instead of him, he couldn’t come to accept it. He wanted you, he wanted you so fucking badly. And every time he had to look into your eyes or talk to you was true suffering for him, knowing he can never have you.

Even when envy stung his heart, he didn’t leave. He stayed- god knows why- to listen to your cries of pleasure, to treasure your sounds for a later time for himself. You sounded perfect, even better than he had imagined when he coaxed a weak, lonely pleasure out of himself on lonely nights. Thank god Obi-Wan was mostly silent, just a heavy breather, so Anakin could focus on you.

He could hear when your skin slapped against each other, could hear the wet sounds coming from you, and he soon found himself stiff and incredibly uncomfortable in his pants.

“Fuck…” he whispered.

Anakin’s thoughts run wild, knowing what he was thinking and planning to do was completely wrong and horrible, but the lust permeating his body and brain clouded his rationale as his hand trailed down to cup the tent of his pants.

Suddenly noises of movement come from the room, and his ears perk up to try to picture what was going on behind that door. Soon enough, the slapping noises were back again and louder than before- maybe even faster. This time you were moaning and gasping for breath, Anakin could only imagine what was happening to you. Probably getting your back blown out.

He strokes himself harder at that thought, silently wishing he could see you.

An absolutely devilish idea crosses his mind, but he’s quick to dismiss it.

That’s too far… right?

Look at what you’re doing right now, you pervert.

It’s true, if that’s too far, then what’s this?

The Jedi purses his lips in frustration, arguing with himself in his head with your erotic moans as background music.

Fuck it, if he can’t ever have you, at least he should be able to see you, just once.

Pausing all movement, he connects with the force, and as gently and as quietly as humanly possible, he uses it to nudge the door ajar just enough for him to peak. When he peers through..

Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit.

Obi-Wan’s got you on all fours, pounding into you with his hands gripping tight onto your hips, guiding you to bounce on his cock over and over again. Your back is arched perfectly, your face in complete bliss as it’s angled towards the ceiling.

Anakin’s own dick pulses with a new wave of need, so he quickly shoves his hand down his trousers and fists himself, sucking back any noise that might escape his throat. He would do anything in the galaxy to be the one right there thrusting wildly into you, he’d make you feel so good. Better than Obi-Wan. He’d be making you scream.

Obi-Wan leans over and grips the back of your neck to push your face into the covers, causing you to whimper. Now he’s got a hold your neck and your hip, and as he lifts a leg up to create a better angle, he groans and falls back into your previous pace. You squeal at the change, clearly very much enjoying everything your lover was doing.

How does Obi-Wan even know what to do, for kriff’s sake? The spark of jealousy reignites once again, but Anakin pushes it back so he can chase his release.

It only took a few more minutes before you started crying out again.

“Obi- Obi I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“

The sight of you releasing was one he desperately soaked in, quickly watching every inch of your body as it spasmed and shook from the strength of your orgasm.

Anakin was pumping himself harder and faster, unbothered if he was leaking all over his himself, feeling that knot grow taut within him until he witnessed Obi-Wan push himself as deep as he could go within you, coaxing one last cry out of you and inevitably pushing Anakin over the edge as well. Ropes of cum coated the inside of his pants, as that euphoric sensation washed over him. He relished in it, picturing that he had just came inside you instead, but as soon as the feeling came it was gone, and the horrid reality of what he had done set in.

Fuck.

Daily reminder;

Your anime boyfriend is a sadist and would purposely push your head down while you’re sucking him off solely because he enjoys hearing you gag on his fat cock and seeing your eyes well up with tears as they roll down your flushed cheeks with spit dribbling down your chin.

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk

Prompt 13: “You don’t think I’d burn this entire country, just to keep you as mine?”

Pairing: Yandere!Endeavour x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.6k

Warning: 18+, minors dni // abusive behaviour (like… very abusive), angst, choking, dark themes, kidnapping, near-death experience, slight infantilization, suicidal ideation, victim-blaming, violence, yandere

55 Prompts Masterlist

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not to be a hedonist but. pleasure IS the whole point, my loves. we are made for pleasure. humans have not survived out of spite or sheer grit or simply to make more humans. we live for pleasure. the pleasure of licking the last delicious crumbs off your fingers and feeling sunlight on your skin and massaging a loved one's shoulders. we're made to fill our bellies with delicious food, to nap in soft grass, to touch each other in joy and comfort.

there is no shame or guilt in our bodies doing what they were made to do. and we are made for pleasure.

well, hes a fine young man. if you overlook the atrocisties