Who Cares If I Want To Mentally Live In My Daydream Universe While I Physically Rot Away. That's My Business

Who Are You?

Theme(s): [Alice in Wonderland AU]: Caterpillar Aizawa

Pairing: Aizawa Shōta X Smol F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Drug Use, Implied Non-Con/Dub-con, Dark Undertones

Word Count: 2,260

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Yandere Mr Compress (Part 1?)

My first ever fanfiction, enjoy and please let me know if you want more! I may be continuing this.

TW Kidnapping

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It starts off very innocent. You’re walking back to your apartment after a long day at work and you find a bouquet of flowers sitting at your doorstep. Puzzled, but somewhat excited, you pick them up and take them inside, setting them on your kitchen counter. You check the card “Your beauty is like the waves of the ocean, relentless, wondrous, and potentially disastrous to a poor, lost soul like mine.” It isn’t signed. You could, of course, take this note the wrong way, how could beauty be disastrous? But you figure it just came from an especially stricken admirer. You haven’t had an admirer since high school, how could you not find it sweet? Smiling, you set the card to the side and arrange the flowers on your dinner table. It’s a nice gesture, you assure yourself.

A few days pass and you’re unconcerned about this “admirer”. In fact, it puts a little pep in your step, so to speak. So far, you’ve received the flowers, a teddy bear, a box of chocolates, and of course the usual unsigned notes. Nothing too strange or alarming. But today was a little different. You come home to find a small red box waiting for you. You take it inside, eagerly rip it open, and find a gold necklace with a heart pendant. Your stomach drops a little. This is expensive. Not only that, but you were just eyeing it the other day, thinking about buying it for yourself for your birthday next week. But it’s not like anyone would have noticed that, right? Whoever the admirer is, he must have just seen it and figured it would be nice, right? You set it aside, pour yourself a glass of wine, and put it out of your mind.

The week passes without any more gifts. You’re a little disappointed, but also somewhat relieved. Maybe the admirer just lost interest. Anyway, it’s your birthday and you’re going out tonight, so you’re excited. You go on your usual lunch break to your usual coffee shop, order your usual cappuccino extra foam, and walk outside. You always take an alley back to work, it’s quick and it’s not even a dangerous area, there are heroes everywhere. You’re so absorbed in thinking about your work, the proposal is due today, you don’t even notice the man standing in the shadows with a Rorschach mask and yellow trench coat. But his voice pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“You’re not wearing it.”

You stop in your tracks. “E-excuse me?” you ask, without turning around.

“The necklace.”

Your heart stops.

“You haven’t worn it at all. I thought you’d like it. I saw you looking at it and smiling.”

Run. You have to run. Or call for a hero, just DO something. You open your mouth, but by the time you even think to scream for help, you’re breathing in a chemical-soaked rag. And you’re out.

—————————————————————————————————-

When you wake up, you have a headache. You don’t really remember what happened, did you have a bad dream? Did you end up going out with your friends? You look around for some water, aspirin… your phone? Anything? Your mind finally clears and you realize, this is not your room. The bed is huge, probably a king. The sheets are regal, red satin with a maroon fleur de lis pattern. Where the fuck are you? You begin to panic and try to get up, before realizing you’ve been tied to the dark, oak bed frame. Shit.

The events of earlier today begin to return to you. The coffee, the alleyway, the man. He was the one. The admirer. He WAS watching you. You look around frantically, looking for anything to cut the restraints. The room offers no solution. No way out. You can feel the tears starting to prick at the corners of your eyes as the bedroom door opens.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

You turn your head to meet the voice, a tall man wearing an orange button up shirt with a bolo tie, black vest, and black dress pants. Even after having the audacity to kidnap you, he still hides his face underneath a black balaclava mask.

“I do apologize for the restraints, but I’m afraid I just can not let you run off. Not when I’ve gone to all this trouble to acquire you.”

“Acquire me?” you spit. “What am I, a Picasso?”

He laughs, a real, genuine laugh, like you’re on stage at open mic night. “A Picasso? Oh dear, no, you are so much more beautiful than that.”

You blush, despite yourself, but continue to glare at the man. Who does he think he is? You don’t expect a real answer, but you do ask him, “Who are you?”

“Forgive me, where are my manners?” He says with a smile. He flourishes his hand down into a deep bow, “Some call me Mr. Compress, but you, my dear, may call me Atsuhiro.”

I need more of Astarion being an absolute undead fucking weirdo. No more suave charming elf man NO this man forgets to breathe for prolonged periods of time and randomly gasps or croaks because he can't speak without air in his lungs. He lurks in dark corners with weird reflective eyes and doesn't move until you notice him. He's SUPER into the scent of his lover and buries his face in their neck or chest while taking in a BIG snorf. He gets very affectionate when he notices his partner is on their period or is bleeding from other causes. He doesn't make noise when approaching someone and often scares the shit out of them because he just silently shows up behind them. He's addicted to the warmth of his partner and rubs his body against them like a cat. He makes animalistic grunts and moans while he feeds. He forgets to blink and just stares at people with wide eyes while they talk. He stares at his lovers pulse point instead of looking in their eyes. He growls when displeased. Sometimes he smiles just a tad too wide. He watches his lover sleep and waits for them to wake up for them to find him just staring them down, unblinking. He's a fucking freak and I love him to bits I need more weirdo Astarion.

Umm personally I don't know why but I see a professor Enji as either a strict maths teacher or a die hard ex military PE teacher that makes ypu run 50 laps for a small mistake but has (secretly) major hots for a certain innocent young student of his 👀

yes yes yes i am all for this ♡

this is an older ask, but lemme scribble out a quick somethin’ for it~

tags/warnings: tw age difference, pervy teacher Enji, tw teacher student, all characters are of age, tw abuse of power, tw power imbalance, virginity kink, sweat kink, punishment

word count: 922

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You’re faltering.

Twentieth lap and you’re faltering- pace slowing and sweat dripping from your brow, shirt beginning to cling to your form as you force your legs to keep going.

You have thirty more laps before you can stop.

Your crime? Whispering to a friend as you filed out onto the field during class earlier that day.

His punishment? Keeping you after school and making you run fifty laps around the soccer field in the blistering hot sun.

Enji takes a sip from his water bottle and watches as you struggle along your run- eyes hungry and shaded by his sunglasses, arms crossed over his chest.

Such a good student, usually- Enji has never really needed to punish you, scold you. You’re always so respectful, so polite- not like his other students with their smart mouths and vulgar tongues.

Respectful, polite, courteous, and...stunning.

Enji’s eyes follow you and his lashes lower as they take in your bare legs and sluggish stride, the slight jostle of your breasts. You pass him, panting, and you pause just for a moment, bend over and plant a hand on your knees as you try to catch your breath. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight, but then he’s frowning- scowling, eyes narrowed as he huffs.

“Run. You still have twenty laps to go.”

The words have you flinching- shoulders drawing up high as you jolt back up- and Enji thinks he might hear a whimper sound from you as you start to move once more.

Lips twitching, he watches you- standing stoic and still, uncaring of the way the sun beats down on him and has sweat trickling down the back of his neck. You have to be thirsty, he knows, but Enji doesn’t bother thinking about it- instead he wonders if any of the little shits in your grade have got to you yet, if you’re still a good girl or a slut like all the other girls that keep bringing shame to your senior class.

He thinks you’re good- you always shy away from the boys in the class, never really seem to have much friends. You probably haven’t been given the chance to be bad. Which is good, of course- girls like you are rare these days and the thought of some fumbling, inexperienced brat claiming you first sets his teeth on edge.

Innocence is wasted on idiots.

Ten more miles, five- you grow slower and slower with each lap and you only kick up the speed when he tells you to get it into gear. You’re looking haggard now- exhausted and filthy and miserable- and Enji could almost swear your eyes are teary as you pass him on the second to last lap.

Finally, though, you’re done and you collapse onto the bench as soon as you pass the finish line- chest heaving and legs visibly trembling as you pant and gasp. Enji huffs and he reaches into his cooler, presses a bottle into your palm. He towers over you as you eagerly swallow the water down and watches the way your throat moves with the motion, traces the path of a sweat droplet as it slips down your chin, your neck, below your drenched shirt.

Plastic crumples as you squeeze a now empty bottle and Enji nearly snorts at how slick your face is, wets his lips when he’s greeted with the sight of yours- parted and shining, oh so very tempting.

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asks- voice a bit too low, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose to reveal bright turquoise eyes darkened into something murky, ominous. You startle at the question- sluggish, hooded eyes fluttering wide as your lips quiver. He hasn’t seen you like this before and Enji thinks he might enjoy it and the way you curl into yourself meekly, duck your head in submission.

A soft and weary “yes sir” slips from you and Enji clicks his tongue as he watches the way you clasp your shaking hands together- whole body tense and your breasts pressing against one another, the fabric of your shirt clinging to your chest and outlining your bra.

He can’t help but to wonder if what you wear underneath your shirt is white and plain and innocent or if it’s frilly, sweet, cute and so easily torn- if you wear lace or cotton, what shade your nipples are.

Enji allows himself one last look over your trembling form and he huffs, pushes his sunglasses back up into place.

“Hit the showers and head home,” he orders you. “I expect better behavior from now on.”

A flinch and then you’re nodding- eyes cast down as you mumble out another tiny “yes, sir” and something close to sniffle sounding as you shakily stand from the bench.

Enji watches as you stumble away- steps fumbling and clumsy, your gait drifting as you try to get back into the building without collapsing. You disappear from sight and Enji adjusts his straining cock in his shorts, glances down at the jacket you had shed and forgotten on the ground. It’s soft in his hand when he picks it up and it smells nice- soft and floral, just as delicate as its owner. He should scold you for being so careless with your possessions, teach you a lesson about personal responsibility.

Lips twitching, Enji heads to his office with your jacket thrown over his shoulder and the image of you panting and trembling and submitting to his punishment seared into his mind.

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?”

Lewd Awakenings (Hitoshi x Fem Reader)

Oh God, that vibes with me SO HARD. It’s a bit sped up but hope you enjoy it. Hitoshi asks get me going sometimes :sweats:

Warning: Smut, sleep fondling

It wasn’t often Hitoshi had a day off; if he wasn’t working hard to shut down villains, he was training by himself or with Aizawa. 

Shinsou always made time for you, though; goodbye kisses in the morning, holding you as you fell asleep at night, and making it home just in time for a late dinner most evenings. 

But man oh man, you lived for those rare days when he wrapped you up in sleepy cuddles, nuzzling against your hair as the two of you ignored the nagging sunrise as you drifted in and out of consciousness 

“Hmm?” Something warm slipped under your shirt, “Hi..toshi?” you muttered, eyelids fluttering open slowly as a hand smoothed over your stomach. 

“It’s just me,” he hummed, relishing in your soft moans as he placed slow, wet kisses on your neck, “you were making such sweet sounds… I couldn’t resist.”

Despite the sleepy haze, your body clearly enjoyed Hitoshi’s affections. Heat pooled between your thighs and your chest rose and fell with quickening breaths. 

“It’s so earlyyy,” you whined, looking over at the clock that read 8:03AM, much too soon for shenanigans.

His other hand played lazily in your hair, twirling the soft strands between his fingers. Every so often he’d scratch your scalp, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. 

“I had a dream about you…” he whispered, nipping your jaw gently. His hand explored, carefully squeezing one full breast, “my hands were all over you there, too.”

“Ah~” you gasped as he thumbed your nipple, sending little jolts of electricity to your heated core. 

“Luckily, my dream girl doesn’t vanish when I wake up,” the hero rolled on top of you, fully removing your shirt before taking one swollen nipple in his mouth. You whined as he sucked, flicking his tongue around the sensitive bud while one hand slipped between your legs. 

“It must’ve been a -ah- r-really good dream,”

“Oh, it was,” he looked to you with half-lidded eyes, a sleepy smirk creeping on his face, “Want me to show you?”

“Fuck, yes.” Your mewls and moans had him straining against his boxers which he quickly shed and tossed aside. It didn’t take long for him to strip your sleep shorts, spreading your thighs and parting your already slick folds.

“Fuckkk. Such a pretty pussy…” he let your juices coat his fingers before slipping them inside with a groan. You welcomed him eagerly, enveloping him in a warmth and tightness that had him biting his lip and sighing through his nostrils. “This little pussy’s all mine.”

You whined, squirming your hips and begging for more friction. As much as he wanted to tease you, all he could manage was a few gentle pumps before your lust blown eyes and needy pleas made him throw restraint to the wind.

“Shit, you’re so fucking sexy when you beg like that.”

Hitoshi wasted no time lining himself up, dragging his heavy cock up and down your wet cunt. Rough hands kept your hips in place, preventing you from taking him in on your own. 

 “Know what the best part is, kitten?”

“What’s that?” you huffed, now painfully aroused and anxious to be fucked.

He kissed your neck, honing his cock head on your clit while you writhed beneath him. Your ear lobe slipped between his teeth and he sucked, nipping lightly before whispering, “You’re always so much better than my dreams.”

You cried out as he stretched your walls, heart jumping at the blissed-out expression he wore when he sank into your silky depths. God the way he filled you was addictive. Hitoshi always took his time. No matter how much he wanted to slam in to you, burying himself completely in your warm, wet walls, the patient hero refused to rush.

When he buried himself completely he held you close, opting for deep, steady thrusts right where you needed them. 

“I need you to cum for me baby.”

Teeth met your collarbone as he nibbled his way up, kissing and licking your neck before meeting your lips in a heated kiss. His perfectly aimed cock kept dragging against that soft spongy flesh and it had you twitching and trembling as pressure the built inside you.

“Fuck Toshi, harder!” 

Hitoshi didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed a fistful of hair, forcing your head in place as his low voice growled, “Yeah? You need it rough kitten?” 

“YES!” 

At times like these, you thanked any God you could for Hitoshi’s intense training. The man didn’t tire as he fucked you full force, just the way you wanted it. His hips slammed into you and your thighs gripped his waist for dear life. 

“I’m gonna-” your words bit off when Hitoshi’s mouth crashed into yours, stealing your breath as you melted around his hard cock. Muffled moans vibrated against your lips as he relished in every throb and whimper you gave him. He spilled over the edge right along with you, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he filled your spasming pussy to the brim. 

Spent and satisfied, the two of you just stayed there a while, catching your breath in between loving kisses. 

“Hmm” he eyed you over skeptically, nuzzling his nose to yours after a moment. “Whew.”

“What?” 

“Had to make sure you didn’t disappear on me. It’s hard to believe you’re real sometimes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing him off you only to lay on his chest as he beamed up at the ceiling.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

 @cherrycolabomb​ @practisewhatyoupeach​ @the-angriestpineapple​ @ikinabi​ @katsukisprincess​ @secondhand-trash​ @shinsouzone​ @queensynderella​ @dabis-azure-songbird​

hey it's my first time requesting so idk if this is the correct way to do it but...

could I request dazai with a darling that always tries to outsmart him (but fails)

Thanks for the request!

Warning for Violence (Blood, Attempts to kill/immobilize), Sexual Content (Boners)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««      

♡ It really only makes you more adorable in his eyes. There you are, grumbling in a corner, hatching your plans, while Dazai watches you with a grin on his face. He knows about the few items you snatched and hid in your pillowcase. Sometimes he ignores them on purpose, so it's a surprise to see what you're up to. But if he does catch a glance, he usually figures out your plans. Sometimes he slips in some bobby pins or the one thing you miss so your plan can work, just to make things more exciting for the both of you before waiting for you to act on it.

♡ Some plans involve merely escaping, Dazai always waiting for you to poke your head out of the chosen door or window, waving and congratulating you for your attempt before stuffing you back inside. The real fun only begins when you start getting physical. Knocking him out, spiking his tea with the meds he provided, and "accidentally" left out in the open. He pretends to be out cold while your hands roam through his pockets, finding nothing but dust and candy while you search for a key. It's something Dazai could get used to, having you explore him so thoroughly, but you always realize much too quickly he's awake, as he can't help his pants from straining against his crotch. When you look up at his face, staring into his wide-open eyes, all he says is, "Oopsie! You got me!"

♡ Getting stabbed is a little annoying, admittedly, but seeing you struggle to actually kill him is all the more exciting for him. You hate him, you want to escape, but you're not a born-and-raised murderer. It doesn't come easily to you to actually slit his throat, but damn, you're so sexy, straddling him, threatening his life with the butterknife he saw you swipe from the breakfast table. His hands roam your legs, hips bucking and making you gasp as you tell him to stop fucking moving. Still, his grin only grows unnervingly wide by the time he reaches your wrists, grabbing them and flipping you over. Before you know it, Dazai has you pinned under him, blood trickling from a shallow cut in his cheeks while he asks if you're ready to die with him, considering how easily you decided to kill him. It awakens the psycho in him, making you wish you wouldn't have acted on this dumb idea.

♡ Even Dazai understands how frustrating it is when nothing ever works, so he occasionally lets you 'win'. It's more of a reward for good behavior or when it's your 'anniversary' with him, but he pretends to mess up, letting you slip from his grasp, counting to ten before pursuing you. It has led to some wonderful chases around town and even through parks and forests, there being no better feeling than finally catching up to you, throwing you against a wall, and through breathless gasps, kissing you until you both almost pass out. Nothing could ever describe the feeling of lifting you up into his arms and carrying you back to his hideout, knowing you are his and can never escape him, no matter how much you try and cry in his arms. It's liberating to know nothing can take you from him, no plan, and no one else, and once the door closes behind your two, he'll get to have fun punishing you like you deserve.

Valentine’s Day drawing from last year hehe, what would you do? 👀

bitches be like "these are my comfort characters!" and it's a group of murderers

not now kitten, daddy has to write strange self indulgent fan fiction.