Please… Just Give Me The Pants…

For Asgard!! ٩(˃̶͈̀௰˂̶͈́)و

10 years, 10 artworks: a decade summary ♥

I drew a lot so it was hard to make a choice (or even to find artworks from 2010 ^^;;) but here is a summary of what I drew in the last 10 years. 

middle-child crisis

The new prints are live on my SHOP!  Both prints are time-limited and will only be available for the next 72 hours.

⭐ The Weaver - Prints are embellished with three different gold foil details to replicate the original artwork ⭐ From Six Feet Under - A standard timed edition print

Edition closes Sun Jul 3rd, 12PM (PT). These will not be printed or available again thereafter.

good thing

word count: ~4k

warnings: smut (18+ only). also: established relationship, angst, non-planned pregnancy, implied sex-for-pay, age gap, language, x fem!reader

a/n: idk you guys. he is—as my middle schoolers would say—Him. it was bound to happen that i would write a pregnancy fic about this man. i will admit that i am weirdly nervous about sharing this fic so please be kind, friends✨🤗

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough.”

“Whose?”

“Not yours.”

Keep reading

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

Good girls should just stay home, lest something goes bump in the night.

cw: NSFW • Implied Murder • Implied Serial Killer • Consensual Non-Consent turned Non-Consensual • Noncon • Dubcon • Abuse • Fingering (F) • Oral (M) • Deep Throating • Rough Sex • Attempted Murder • Hair Pulling • Degradation/Slight Humiliation • Dacryphilia • Yandere Themes • Kidnapping • a little OOC • This story possessed me and basically wrote itself • Barely proof read tbh

wc: 7k+

Something must be wrong with you.

Or at least, that’s what you imagine the world would think if anyone knew what you were doing.

The room was dark aside from the blue glow of your computer screen. The black web browser with red lettering almost ominous as your eyes scanned the consent form again. It was a consent form just to access the full website, on the surface serving only as a dating type of situation for the BDSM community. Beneath it though were layers deeper than what the simple description actually provided. You only found out about it through a deep dive into multiple sub-threads of Reddit. It was a basket case of crazy, the majority of information or advice, but you managed to dig up one reliable looking source.

This website you were currently on. L@ce&R0pe.com happened to provide a wide variety of goodies, from sex toys to actual published books on shibari, there wasn’t much you couldn’t find. Except like all websites not swallowed up by the deep web, there was never any section like the one you wanted so desperately.

Except this one, because your mouse didn’t hesitate to shift and hover over the drop down section for MEET, where you could link up with real people for whatever your heart desired really. You trailed down to NEW FRIEND, and clicked. A new tab opened, this one themed differently than the main website. It was light blue and pink, almost like a baby shower, except the only thing on the page was a single drop down menu, and clicking it made your head ache. There were thousands of options, but thankfully it was organized alphabetically, so you could easily scroll mindlessly until you hit the C section.

You found what you wanted, clicking it as your chosen option and hitting GO.

The screen changed, this time it looked similar to a dating profile fillable. You worked quickly, efficiently even, as you typed all your information in.

Not your name or address, nothing silly like that. Just your measurements, your favorite foods or beverages, the color of your eyes, your hair color, your height, and even the style of your nails. It asked if you liked to brush your hair everyday, how often you showered, what shampoo or body wash you like. You answered them all, as invasive as they soon became, you never wavered. What brand of deodorant do you use? How often do you clip or file your nails? To what length? Do you shave your pubic area? How often? What style? How many sexual partners have you had? Where have you had sex? Which hole do you prefer? Are you a crier or a screamer? Does blood turn you on? Do you like physical or mental pain more? Have you ever been raped before?

They got more personal and physiological as you answered. You felt hot and stuffy despite the window being open and the cool autumn air blowing in. You kept answering even as your throat got tighter and unease nestled into your clavicle.

Do you want to know who your new friend will be?

This time you do hesitate. Knowing would make it feel safer. Knowing would give you some semblance of control. Knowing would be the smart choice.

You clicked “no” and submitted the form, sealing your fate as your hands shook and adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You set the date for October 31st. Now all you had to do was wait and show up.

A notification hit his phone, lighting up the screen as cigarette smoke billowed around him in the back alley. A quick glance was all he needed to unlock and fully see the entire screen. The leather of his jacket rubbed against the brick he leaned against.

Halloween was probably the best time for such fun, crime rates skyrocketing and parties being loud and wild really left a big gaping hole for any type of heinous activity to occur. He grinned as the information poured onto his screen. His dick already becoming painfully hard as he read all your supplied information. You liked breath play, having someone spit in your mouth, even being slapped around. He was always amazed by the lack of shortage for sick freaks like you, but then again, he was one of them too. Licking his top lip, tongue piercing flicking out to rub against his cupid’s bow, he clicked “ACCEPT” on the notification. He had all your information, the when and where, and your adorable little comment of “Please don’t degrade me.” What more could he ask for? His smile is sinister in the low light off the neon sign of the bar, casting a purplish hue on his skin as he chuckles and shoves his phone away. Flicking his cigarette butt onto the dirty ground, he cracked his neck and knuckles before going back inside to finish his beer and round of pool with his friends.

He’ll see you on Halloween. He might even dress up a little for the occasion.

It’s cold.

It’s nearly November so you hadn’t expected warm weather necessarily, but it seemed chillier than usual despite your fairly insulated dress.

You dressed up as an angel, the irony not lost on you at all but it felt fitting almost for the occasion. The pristine white looked off in your surroundings. It was nearly midnight, but despite that the sidewalk of the park was filled with a fairly regular crowd of people passing through, on to the next party or home to sleep off all the alcohol. Really, you weren’t too out of place, in your white stockings and black heeled boots, the fluffy ruffled white babydoll dress that barely covered your ass or tits and the wings which were strapped around your shoulders and jutted out behind you. On your head was a slim clip which was attached to a white shiny halo that seemed to float above you, only a thin wire keeping it up. You’d at first felt a little exposed passing children going home for the night after trick or treating, eyes of judgemental families which you ignored boring into you, but now it was time for the adults to have fun. You’d already passed a plethora of college students or older dressed even more scantily than you, making you feel better, safer, out in the park you’d chosen. You’d chosen 0300 as your designated meetup time, but specified you’d be early in case they wanted to start sooner. So here you stood, under a streetlamp that illuminated you in a yellow glow, making you seem even more angelic despite the ominous darkness surrounding you. You were busy playing on your phone, scrolling mindlessly and trying not to appear too excited. Or scared. You figured it was a combination of both, the arousal and fear bleeding into one very specific but unnamed emotion. Tapping your boot to a rhythm only you could hear, the night drew on and another hour passed. The droves of people passing didn’t dwindle, but it was always a group, never a single individual which you hoped was your new friend. It was almost 0130 when you felt watched, goosebumps rising on your skin as you realized someone must be looking at you. A quick glance around showed no one though, and after ten minutes your hope dissolved into disappointment. It seemed your friend wasn’t an early bird.

“Hey,” a raspy, deep voice speaking almost directly into your ear, startling you enough to elicit a yelp. You turned, eyes landing on a dark clothed chest and trailing up to a hooded face you could barely make out through a mess of blue hair. His lips look a bit chapped, a small scar decorating a corner, but his teeth are white and straight as he smiles a grin that causes shivers to shoot down your spine.

…maybe your friend was an early bird, just not as much as you.

You take a step back, stuttering stupidly due to your overactive nerves and the earlier shock of his sudden appearance. “H-hi…um,” the stranger tilts his head, eyes still not visible, dark hoodie baggy on his frame. He looks a bit thin, like he wouldn’t have a lot of strength, his jeans having some strange splattering of fake blood or something on them. You lick your lips, heart ready to leap from your chest but not quite ready for the events to unfold.

Or maybe you were very ready.

“You’ve been standing here for hours,” he comments nonchalantly, hands moving to shove inside the large inner pocket on his hoodie, “Aren’t ya tired of waiting for your boyfriend?” His question is a bit confusing, and when you glance around you, it dawns that there’s no one out right now. When had the crowds dwindled to nothing? “I don’t… have a boyfriend…” you had clearly stated that online too, so he already knew the answer to your relationship status. Was he just teasing? Keeping this as realistic as possible? It made you a bit pleased. You fiddled with the ends of your cute frilly dress, exposing a small portion of your skin and garter belt which kept your thigh high socks up. His eyes tracked the motion, lips pulling up even higher making his smile menacing. Dangerous. “That so?” He asks, but it doesn’t seem like he’s too interested in a reply as he steps closer, his beat up sneakers so silent on the ground it’s a little unnerving. Since he’s playing along so much, it feels wrong for you to not reciprocate.

“What do you think you’re doing, creep? Stay back,” You hope he’s not offended by the name, figuring it wasn’t too mean or odd of a thing to call him. Your firm stance and defiant gaze make him pause, head tilting again but he’s quick to recover and laugh. It’s less of a sexy and deep chuckle like you expected, and more pitched and giggly. It’s almost creepy to hear from a grown man. Like a child from a horror movie laughing. “Creep? Yeah? Guess I am, but you know what?” His head lifts, and since he’s more centered under the tall street lamp, when he looks straight at you, two red eyes flash. “I’m a lot fucking worse than your average dumbass creep,” you jolt when he lunges at you, hand outstretched to grab you. It’s instinctive how quickly you turn and run, adrenaline helping you shoot off into the park where no light but the moon shined down. This is what you wanted, you chant to yourself to stay level headed enough to not truly panic. This was staged and as safe as possible. He’s not actually going to hurt you. You’d be fine, albeit maybe a little sore tomorrow morning. You shut your mind off and focus on running, though your speed wasn’t great in such cheap and unstable boots, roots and random objects on the ground constantly tripping you up.

You looked like the dumb girl in the horror movies, tits practically out of your low cut revealing white dress, strapless white bra damn useless and more for show than any real support or push-up. You huffed, digging in your heels when you heard a few twigs snap behind you, feet carrying you faster as you realized he was gaining on you quickly. He didn’t shout and you didn’t scream. The chase was exhilarating, your mind becoming fuzzy as your lungs burned for more oxygen. You hadn’t planned a chase, really leaving it all up to fate and your new friend, but this was perfect.

Until fingers tangled tight in your hair and yanked you completely off your feet, your shoes and legs going out in front of you as you landed gracelessly on your ass. Then an intense burning in your scalp erupts, a hiss of pain and a whine escaping as you slide over cool damp foliage, senseless grumbling coming from the stranger as he drags you into a deeper more secluded section of the park, away from any and all prying eyes. Not like anyone gave a damn. “I-it hurts!” You feel childish for crying, tears pricking your eyes but the burn was worse than you imagined truly, soft hands coming up to try and pry his fingers off.

He has a grip of iron apparently, not the least bit phased as he sighs, hauling you up and tossing you in front of him. You land weirdly on your left shoulder, a shock of pain numbing your mind as you heave for air and roll over. When you open your eyes, you’re face to face with him. His hood pulled off, shoulder length blue hair now tied back and up into a little bun while some stray pieces frame his face and forehead. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as they take him in.

He’s young, maybe early twenties, with pale skin and dark bags hugging beneath his scarlet eyes. He’s got a beauty mark just below his lip on the right side, the scar you saw earlier on the other. He’s not hard on the eyes, cute even, but the strange air around him makes the close proximity fill you with anxiety. His eyebrows are thin and sparse, but he cocks one with a smirk. “Not gonna scream for help, crybaby?” The nickname makes you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, you blink them away quickly, shaking your head and trying to find your words again. “I—uh, do you want me to?” Wouldn't screaming just make it more likely for someone to call the police? You figured a little noise was fine, but screaming seemed counter productive.

His eyes widened a bit, confusion painting his features as he crouched down more comfortably on his haunches to get a better look at you.

He’d been watching you since you got to the park. A single party in this sort of place always sticks out like a sore thumb. You looked more ready for a porno than a costume party, from behind the view of your ass indescribably arousing in your short little dress. It was both a slutty and innocent look you pulled off well, at least enough to make him riled up, cock twitching in agreement within his pants. He shamelessly rubbed it through his jeans, caressing the hardening length and letting you watch with glee. Your face made him snort, amusement evident as he chuckles and squints. “You like this, little freak?” You looked like you did, he notes. Your wide pretty eyes, still a little teary and red at the ends, showed your blown out pupils. You looked to be more star struck, not terrified like any normal girl chased through a park and dragged into a little corner between some trees to be out of sight. He watches you swallow hard, lips parting before closing as if you aren’t sure what to say to that question. “Fuck, you’re cute,” he grins, “a cute little slut who stood out at night all alone as if begging for someone to come along and do something nasty.” You release a tiny yelp as he meanly shoves you back, straddling your upper chest with his thighs as he hunches over you, looming ominously above with wild eyes screaming for chaos. “Good thing that I came along, huh? Make all your nasty little fantasies come true.” He watches you gasp as he presses his fingers against your lips, confusion evident on your face but you aren’t really putting up much of a fight as you open and let him slide two in. “Nasty fucking girl, look at you, when you don’t even fucking know me.” He chuckles, and while he’s teasing you mostly, he is amazed. You looked erotic as hell right now, little angel costume all wrinkled and a bit dirty from the earth below, pretty face a bit stained with mascara that had run a little from your earlier tears. You weren’t wearing the waterproof kind it seemed. Lips bitten and chewed on, plump and glossy from whatever glittery shit you swiped on them earlier now wrapped around his digits as he dug around in your warm wet mouth. “Suck on them, slut,” he orders, his smile dropping and face becoming more serious as you hurry to obey, a strange trepidation building in your gut. He groans as he feels your tongue wiggle and swirl, pumping his fingers a bit now and enjoying the little bleats you release when he chokes you a bit with them. “Wonder if you’re soaked down here~” he hums, leaning back a bit and yanking his fingers from your lips, wiping the excess saliva across your cheek and huffing a laugh as your features wrinkle in distaste. His hand moves behind him, easy access to your cunt due to the frilly dress hiked up almost around your waist, revealing cute soaked white cotton panties he growls at the sight of. “You really suck at putting up a fight, crybaby, but I think I heard somewhere that girls get wet when scared too…” those red eyes flick back to your own, "You scared?” He asks, almost softly. He watches you breathe, chest struggling a bit under his weight but your hands curled into the fabric of his hoodie, not pushing him away. “A little…?” Is your shaky response, and he wonders silently if you’re an idiot or just a pervert. You might be both, because when he lets his thumb dig into where your pussy lay poorly hidden, you moan for him and spread your legs wider. You make it even easier to search for his desired location, your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-oh—!” Your head falls back, little halo becoming a bit misshapen as it gets flattened to the ground, he tsks, fixing it with his free hand as he thumbs your little clit and watches you mewl and writhe beneath him, pleasure clearly visible on your face. Your hips buck and wiggle, body pinned beneath his and unable to get away or closer like you desperately want for more friction than he’s providing. “P-please,” you can’t help but beg, hoping your new friend is merciful enough to make you cum and not simply edge you all night.

It’s the pouty expression which makes him nearly feral, his grin spreading wide again as he keeps working his finger on your clit but his face closes the distance between your own. His lips just barely graze yours, and you are all too happy to part your lips and give him a sloppy kiss back, his own tongue finally slipping into your mouth where you suck. The smooth muscle in your mouth and the saliva dripping from it drive you wild, hands now dragging him closer and trying to make him do more for you. The heat spreads slowly however, his pace not changing, and despite his slim build he’s much stronger than you. You aren’t able to take any more than what is given, huffing in exasperation and groaning when he places more force before easing off. “S-stop teasing…” you whine against his lips, which were much softer than they look. He smirks, airy chuckle felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh, “how can I not, you’re such a rare find, I plan to take my time with you.” He kisses you hard to silence whatever whines you planned to release to make him give you more. Instead he forces you into a slow building orgasm that leaves him having to pin your wrists above your head lest your clawing rip his skin open. He works you gently and cruelly into it, loving how you gasp and choke for him, eyes rolling back while you shake almost like you’re possessed and soak through your panties. “There you go, heh, normally I wouldn’t bother to take my time with whiny bitches, but you’re more obedient and sweet than I first assumed.” He whispers into your ear as you come down from the mind blowing high, body limp and pliant like dough now. The insult from him brings out a little whine of protest, teary eyes looking at him with almost something akin to betrayal.

“I-I don’t like being called mean names…I said so online too,” he pulls up finally, the chill of the night attacking full force on your now exposed cunt as he brings your panties up to his nose to inhale. His eyes narrow, almost into slits as he pulls them back and shoves them into his hoodie pocket. “Oh yeah? You post that shit on your social media or something? Sorry, I don’t really use those trash platforms. I have a Twitch stream though,” he acts like this is the time for a regular conversation, even as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, yanking them down his hips to pull his cock free. Your eyes go wide, mind a bit blank and missing something, in favor of looking at him pump his length lazily. A trail of blue curls like on his head travel from his navel to his groin where it spreads out a little, the color a bit darker as it goes lower. He’s not one to shave it seems, but your eyes focus on his cock, average in length but girthy with a tip that curves up almost perfectly. It looks like a cock someone would sell as a dildo at a sex store. It was pretty, admittedly, as a few pearls of pre-cum dotted the tip and spilled over as he slowly worked it above you. “Hungry?” He jokes, but when you nod he grits his teeth and bites back a moan, the night truly more unexpected than he thought. “Open up then, crybaby.” He thankfully didn’t call you a bitch again, crybaby the less of the evils and more acceptable of a petname for your preference as you open your lips and awkwardly lean your head forward. “No need to lean up,” he mumbles, shifting until his knees now rested by your shoulders, tip just in your mouth and his forearms on the earth above your head. He’s looking down at you, and you lay back down as he works his cock in your mouth. He’s going to fuck your mouth, you realize a bit late, the position so easy for him to hit balls deep in your throat and prevent you from running just from his weight alone. You’re pinned to earth, the scent of crisp autumn becoming mingled with the musky masculine odor the stranger had clinging to him. Something smelled of iron too, but it was fainter and didn’t bother you too much, not when he seemed determined to suffocate you with his cock. You jerk a little, teeth accidentally grazing his cock and his hiss of pain alerts you that you’ve hurt him. He pulls up and out of your mouth, glaring ferociously as he looks down at you with contemplation. “Sorry—! I’m not used—,” the words leaving you mouth go unfinished as you’re suddenly looking away and down, confusion wracking your mind before white hot pain erupts across your face and you cry out in agony.

He watches with a cool nonchalance as you whimper and cry, holding your inflamed cheek and looking at him with teary eyes filled with questions. The sight doesn’t help his hardness, your face swelling a bit from the force of the blow already, but it was still arousing how you cried for him so easily. “Don’t bite my fucking dick and I won’t hit you, clear?” He’s grabbing you roughly by the hair again, yanking you up and no longer in the mood for that awkward position as he stands and pulls you to your knees. This position at least gives him a good eye full of your tits, shaking from your little trembling as you’re made to look up at him. His angry reddened cock next to your injured cheek is a sight for him, his hand gripping his shaft and slapping you lightly on the cheek with it, his hand in your hair preventing you from turning away even as you whimper in pain. “Okay, we’ll try this again, crybaby. Open.” You do, even as tears run like waterfalls down your face, mascara smeared and making a pathetic sight for sore eyes of you, you let his cock enter your mouth once more.

Because you’ve never been more aroused.

Your stranger isn’t nice, pushing hard and deep into your throat immediately and gagging you. You’re careful with your teeth, jaw already burning and aching as he locks his arm and hand, strands of hair tearing out as he works his hips into your face at an uneven pace. “Stop fucking moving,” he growls, stepping even closer, blocking any and all exits and forcing you to take it. His cock didn’t seem so scary when he’d pulled it out, but in your throat it was a plug to your oxygen and felt too big for your poor mouth. It hurt, feeling him go too deep and leaving you coughing and sputtering and even still he wouldn’t pull out, groaning and pressing impossibly deep like he truly means to suffocate you. “You got a good little mouth pussy, crybaby. Fuck—take my cock, just like that.” He moans, watching as you struggle on his dick to breathe or swallow, slobber and tears coating his cock as he makes a mess of your pretty face. He doesn’t care that your eyes are starting to roll back, hands which had previously been clawing at his legs going limp at your sides. You acted more like a hole for him to fuck when you were limp like this, and it drove him wild as he grunted like an animal and rutted into your mouth like he held a grudge against you. Both hands dug into your hair, hands pulling you back onto his cock when his hips bucked you away. “Never fucked a—holy shit—ah, mouth so damn good before—, ah fuck, fuck,” he’s getting breathier as time ticks by, his own eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tight. “I’m going to cum, ready for me crybaby? Want it in your tummy or on your face?” He’s being condescending on purpose, but it’s a bit useless considering he’s rendered you nearly unconscious on his dick. He shrugs your lack of response off, pumping his cock down your throat until he sees stars and yanks himself free just before the first spurt misses and hits the grass below, he grips the base, pumping and shooting his next shot right onto your face. He yanks your head against his thigh, delirious face dazed and coughing softly as he finishes on your glitter and mascara run cheeks, using the tip to smear it well into your ruined makeup as he sneers at you from above.

“Hah…” he catches his breath, sucking in oxygen along with you as his gaze turns calculated.

“Wake up, I’m not done with you yet.” He’s more gentle now that he's cum at least once, tapping your uninjured cheek with two fingers as your eyes roll around before opening and looking at him.

He swears, your face making him hard again instantly, blood pooling to his groin at the messy sight of you in your white ruined angel costume. “You really are unlucky I was out tonight, I don’t think I’m gonna let you go.” His dead serious comment caused something cold to hit your veins, chills running through you as you gape in shock.

“W-what…?” He reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out what looked like a foot long serrated hunting blade. He snickers at the blank look of shock on your features.

“What’s wrong, crybaby? No tears for me right now?” You’re shaking, getting paler by the second as you realize no, it’s not a costume, and yes, there is still dried blood on the blade. There’s dried blood all over him, his spree tonight ridiculously fruitful and his body still high on the thrill. Imagine his luck finding you. “T-this wasn’t in my profile, wh-what are you doing?” Now you look alert, now you act like a regular civilian, he notes cooly. “I only con-consented to the sex and stuff, I said I didn’t like—like blades or blood play.” Your eyes are wide as saucers and you have a cold sweat now forming and dotting your skin, shaky like on too much caffeine as your body dumped chemicals to help you run.

His head tilts, a few more strands of hair coming loose from his tie as those red eyes watch you without any emotion in their depths.

“Ah~ I get it now. Are you some kind of freak who links up with people online for this kind of shit?” He laughs, eyes not matching the manic toothy grin. “Sorry to disappoint slut, I ain’t your tinder or whatever match. Did you do it anonymously?” He’s beyond amused, thrilled by the horror dawning on your face as reality sets in. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He sneers, but he’s joyful when you book it, heeled boots caked in mud as they dig into the ground and you take off for real. True intent to get away now because he’s not your new friend, he’s a real stranger and his energy is nothing but malevolent.

You’re going to die.

It’s a sick thought that twists inside you as you push the hardest you’ve ever, scream bubbling up and out as you cry for help now. “HELP! Please! Someone! Anyone!” It’s more broken and hoarse than you want, his earlier abuse to your throat having taken a number on your ability to vocalize.

It’s empty. This damn park is empty.

Not a soul around and you can’t hear him coming for you anymore, and it only makes the tears fall harder as you drive your body to a breaking point. If no one is around you can at least aim for your car, your phone will take too much time to look at and dial the police, you’d be too open and that would mean—

Something—someone—smashes into you, your body thrown sideways by the brute force and flung roughly to the ground where you roll several feet.

It hurts—!

Your body and mind scream as pain lights up your shoulder, a previously dull ache now hounding for your attention so much it left you lightheaded. You twisted your ankle too or maybe broke it, already so regretful for the evening and your life choices that your shoes hardly broke the bank. It all hurt, and yet you still tried to crawl to get away, still eager for another deep breath of air in your lungs even if it hurt to do that too.

“Hck, please, please—help—!,” you’re a sobbing pathetic mess, and he couldn’t be more turned on by the sight. He dusts himself off like he hadn’t tackled you like a linebacker for a major league football team, his lanky form sinewy with muscle and his agility nothing to scoff at. He swirls the enormous daunting blade with a whistle, smiling more genuinely as he strolls towards your shaking form crawling away.

“Where do you think you’re going, crybaby? I said I wasn’t done with you,” he lands a solid hit to your middle, dirty sneaker smearing mud on your cute little dress, looking less and less white as the night wears on. The blow is not hard enough to damage anything, he’s sure, but you act as if you’ve been disemboweled by how you howl and heave. He rolls his eyes at the dramatics, settling one foot between your shoulder blades and pressing down until you’re left immobilized.

Your vision is blurry, going in and out of focus as you try, and try, and try to get away, cute nail polish chipped and ruined as you claw at the dirt floor for leverage.

He admires your tenacity. “You think you can get away? That anyone is coming to save you?” He brushes a few stray hairs out of his face as he laughs, the urge to gut you strong as he savors your useless little struggle. “Crybaby, look around! No one is coming! I said look,” he grinds out, dropping to one knee while his other leg remains planted on your back, his hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up to see what he meant.

There’s a fence. A metal chain link fence, and it had a sign your vision was too blurry to read through your tears.

“You ran yourself straight into the worst possible area, this is sort of your game over,” He leans down to look at you, yanking your head back and forcing you into an uncomfortable arch. He raises up the blade, fully intending to slit your pretty throat and watch your eyes as the light fades, but you blubber out a sentence which halts him.

“Y-you didn’t finish! E-earlier, hck, earlier you didn’t finish—!” Your eyes squeeze closed in pain as he yanks your head to the side. Confusion burned in him, and curiosity kept you breathing for now.

“Didn’t finish what, crybaby? Fairly certain I finished all over your face, if I remember correctly.” He has a sharp edge in his tone, something metallic fills your mouth and you realize you’ve bitten through your tongue in your panic. A few drops spill past your lips, catching his attention.

“S-shouldn’t you also f-fuck me too? I-it’s why I came out tonight, wh-why I, ah, d-did this,” it’s a long shot by any means, and he’s no fool, but you did make a good point.

He was still hard.

“Smart little crybaby, aren’t you?” He mutters darkly, setting aside his blade in favor of smashing your face into the dirt, keeping your head down as he presses against your back and yanks your hips up. Your knees are skinned from the rough handling, socks torn open and stained with blood and dirt while his calloused hands slip beneath your dress. Your breath hitches. You needed to think of some way out of this, some kind of plan to escape or incapacitate him.

He’s busied himself with your still dripping cunt. Two fingers roughly filling your hole and uncaringly stretching your tight entrance. “You really are a freak, wet even though you’re going to die, crybaby.” He felt a bit strange as you whimper and mewl below, hand slowing as he tried to place the feeling.

He shrugs it off, instead easily yanking down his jeans which were still unbuttoned and pulling out his cock once more, stroking his shaft a few times before he lined himself up with your puffy lips. “Fuck—,” he swears, eyes seeing stars as he pushes just his tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance, mouth opening as licks his lips and stares down at you. “Never had pussy so good…” he giggles darkly, cracking his neck as he pushes each inch inside of you, stretching you out deliciously until you’re speared on his cock with his hips flush with your ass. “Who knew you’d be the best, crybaby.” He muses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, your little dress flipped up and over your ass so he can watch it bounce as he leans back on his knees to fuck you deeper. You need to think straight but it’s difficult with how good your body feels, the pain from earlier seeming to go away with a numb buzz as he fills your pussy, hitting perfectly against a spot that has you arching harder for more.

You really are a freak like he says.

You can’t help relaxing further, eyes dumbly looking to the side where your head rests as he pounds into you from behind, the coil in your gut growing tighter by the minute.

The clouds blocking the moon seem to part just for you, the full moon’s light no longer blocked and illuminating the little patch of grass he’d tackled you into. Something gleams, in perfect reach too as your eyes widen.

His knife.

He’d already proven you can’t outrun him, but what if he was injured? There’s a major artery in the thigh, if you hit that, wouldn’t you be able to get away?

He yanks back roughly, moaning as he feels you squeeze even tighter around him, velvet walls massaging his dick while he tries to fuck himself as deep as possible inside of you.

It hit you despite all your intentions not to, because this wasn’t safe and he wants to end your life and everything is wrong, but your body doesn’t listen. You cum with a shaky cry, and with an awkward turn of your head you watch as his head goes back and he moans, eyes closed in bliss as you coat his cock in even more slick.

You’re louder than you intended to be, but your fingers close around the hilt nonetheless, trembling with the heavy weight in your grasp, you use every ounce of energy inside you to swing it back into his thigh.

“Cute,” you scream as he catches your wrist, hand clenching so tight you feel your bones grind together as the knife falls from your grip. He twists your arm around and pins your wrist behind your back, holding it in place while his other hand remains at your hip.

“So fucking cute, crybaby. Did you cum just to distract me or was that because you couldn’t help yourself?” He’s getting a high from this, from fucking you and turning you into nothing but a toy as he bounces you on his cock, hips still but arms pulling you back and forth with ease. Scarlet eyes drink you in with undisguised sick glee, and he’s finally able to place the feeling from earlier.

“A pretty little slut trying to get her rocks off and getting shown why she should’ve been a good girl and stayed home,” he grunts, releasing you and leaning over, pinning you with his weight and nearly knocking the air from your lungs how deeply he hits you inside from this angle. Dirt fills the underbelly of your nails, your fingers digging into the earth just for some semblance of stability.

You had none. It was a sick and horrifying realization. You have no control. You can do nothing to stop this. As deeply as it made your gut sink, another odd emotion rose to the surface.

A bubbly sensation that tore through you as your tears became less from fear and more from overstimulation.

His hips piston in and out of you, bullying your cervix in this position as he ruts into you like a hound, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he moans and grunts.

You break again, spasm and cinch down on his cock like a vice while you wail as if in mourning. Maybe you are, for yourself at least. “Oh fuck—! s’too much—, please, I can’t—, f-feels good, hah,” your nearly incoherent babbling sends him over the edge along with you, his own dull nails finally drawing blood as he holds you for dear life as he releases deep inside you, tip kissing right up against you womb as he cums. You can feel it too, his cock twitching inside as the night seems to still for a moment.

He holds you for a while. Breathing you in, nuzzling his face into your neck and licking you. He holds you until his cock fully softens and it hurt to be gripped so tightly inside your wet heat, regrettably pulling away.

He stands, putting his sticky limp cock away inside his underwear and pulling up his pants, looking down at your ruined figure that had slumped over to the side.

“Y’know, crybaby… you really resemble an angel now,” he smiles, red eyes almost glowing as the moon blankets his back and shadows his face. His hair seems almost white like this, your tired eyes note. You don’t move or even flinch as he grabs his knife and yanks your limp figure up by your hair. Even now you’re still crying, face lax despite the rivers flowing down your dirty swollen cheeks. You make no effort to stop him, having given up completely.

He crouches down again, mostly eye level now as he makes you look at him.

“You got any last words?” He’s being dead serious. He feels strange looking at the almost glazed over look in your eyes.

“W-what…” your voice is barely a whisper, but the night is so quiet he catches it, “what’s your…name?”

An unexpected question.

His eyes gleam, smile ravenous as he puts his lips against your ear and whispers it.

“Tomura, what’s your name, crybaby?” He asks, gently, almost like he’s actually interested.

You hoarsely whisper it, your last time ever saying it after tonight. He hums, like it pleases him, before he brings down the knife swiftly.

Your vision goes dark, the strike mercifully painless. Your last thoughts blur as you drift into soft nothingness.

He releases your hair, grabbing your limp figure up in his arms as he chuckles and sheaths his knife properly on his hip. “Dumb crybaby” his voice almost singing the words as he whistles and walks away, the park dead silent but even if someone had seen you in his arms, he could just play the good boyfriend taking his sweetheart home safely. It’s not entirely a lie either, his eyes glancing down at your unconscious form, pretty neck unmarred but a bruise would likely form on the back where he struck you tomorrow. Tomura had never felt compelled to allow a victim to live, but then again he’s never fucked a victim either, so you’re the first for a lot. He supposed it made you quite special, his legs carrying him in the direction of his car in the parking lot about a mile south. Obsession and possessiveness swirled in those red depths as they looked at your figure.

“Good girls should just stay home…” he continues his sardonic little tune, his smile gruesome and foreboding.

Vibrant blue orbs check his surroundings again, noting once again his friend was a no show. Rolling his eyes, he knew it was too good to be true. Your profile screamed inexperienced and cautious, despite you clicking that you’d like him to remain anonymous beforehand. It didn’t matter, he’d just go enjoy some sorority girl pussy instead, figuring at 0330 that most parties would be winding down. Drunk girls dressed like sluts were his second favorite.

Dabi clicks the notify option on his app, letting the website staff know you never showed up.

Though, he muses if something did happen, the police wouldn’t be notified until it was too late. Halloween weekend after all meant you could be missing for quite a while before anyone noticed.

Not his problem though.

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Dabi

SWEET: Yan! Dabi x Fem! Darling

Yandere Headcanons (NSFW)

Soft (NSFW)

Head (NSFW)

Wall (NSFW)

Break (SFW but Dark Themes)

Crying Won’t Help (NSFW) ABO

Dirty thoughts

Do you masturbate? (Request!)

Jealous? (Request!) (SFW!)

Brat Tamer (NSFW)

Cold (Yandere Dabi x Darling)

Shigaraki Tomura

HAPPY HALLOWEEN (NSFW/NONCON)

MIND BREAK: (Dark NSFW)

Yandere Headcanons (NSFW)

Part 1: Time as a Darling (NSFW)

Part 2: Time as a Darling (NSFW)

Foot Fetish

Dirty thoughts

Do you masturbate? (Request!)

Jealous? (Request!) (SFW!)

Game Time (R) (Piss Kink) (NSFW)

Gross (Noncon) (NSFW)

Tenko Shimura HC (NSFW)

Dog (SFW • Drabble)

Manners (Tomura x Fem! Reader x Spinner NSFW)

Spinner

Do you masturbate? (Request!)

Soft s/o x Spinner (Request!)

Jealous? (Request!) (SFW!)

Cuddle Me (R!) (NSFW)

Heat Haze (R!) (NSFW)

Manners (NSFW)

Mr. Compress

Gentleman (NSFW)

Overhaul: (I will not accept requests for him!)

Better dead than alive (Dead Dove)

Fatgum

Feel Better (NSFW)

Headcanons

EraserHead (Aizawa)

Cock Warming (NSFW) (Request!)

Aizawa x villain (humor/crack)

Before Bed (NSFW/Request)

Mirio Togata

Yandere Headcanons (NSFW)

Moderation (NSFW) (x Fem! Reader)

Happy Birthday (NSFW)

Shinsou Hitoshi

Yandere Headcanons (NSFW)

Katsuki Bakugo

• Growing Pain (SFW/Hurt/Comfort)

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

For Your Safety (Yan! Noncon!)

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

Palo santo 101

Before you click play on the audio recording and blithely ignore the written guide, be sure to review the important science-based charts and insight-rich visuals sprinkled throughout it.

If you’ve ever walked into a party hosted by someone under 40 in Brooklyn, Lisbon, California, Condesa or Roma Norte, or Venice Beach and not smelled palo santo, then you probably had covid. Over the past decade palo santo has become the official scent of good vibes. It is an olfactory assurance for anyone who recognizes the scent that conversation will be limited to polyamory, regional burns, and adaptogen supplements. Despite the fact that no one ever doesn’t want to smell palo santo, it’s important to know when to use it and when to relegate your surroundings to their default odor. This guide will ensure that you know exactly how to make the most of the palo santo you carry in the shoulder bag you purchased at the Sant Jordi flea market in Ibiza during the off-season.

Like most cultural appropriations, no one who burns palo santo knows what it is, where it came from, why they use it, or why it’s even called palo santo. Let’s uncover the facts. 

Bursera Graveolens is a tree native to the dry tropical forests of South America. Its discovery by white people dates back to 1972 at a now defunct swingers resort in Quito, Ecuador, where a guest from New Jersey named Paulo Santonicola noticed a stick with a burning ember on the end of giving off a fetid, wispy trail of smoke. He pointed at the burning stick and asked the guy holding the cocaine tray, who would now be called a consent educator, “por que?”

“Plaga,” he replied, and gnashed his teeth and made a flapping-wing motion with the hand not holding the cocaine tray. Paulo brought the wood back to his central New Jersey home as a last-ditch effort to ward off the deer that were eating the tomatoes in his garden. He started burning the wood around the clock in the steamy summer of 1972, during which he and his girlfriend hosted dozens of play parties. 

“I didn’t care if people at my parties had a problem with the smell,” recounted Paulo. “Those frickin’ deer were jumping my fence and chewing through wire to eat my tomatoes. When I caught a whiff of that wood down in Quito, I thought, ‘they won’t come near my garden if I burn this shit.’” 

Mr. Santonicola had achieved some level of notoriety in the adult film industry in the early 1970s, and his parties were well attended by neo-hippies, the disco elite and the first generation of yoga professionals. Over the course of the summer, a pavlovian association formed between the scent of the wood and casual sex, and his friends started asking him for sticks so that they could take the vibe home with them. At the sunset of his porn career, he saw an opportunity not only to rebrand his legacy, distancing himself from grainy adult films with problematic titles, but also to make oceans of cash: import the wood and sell it through his readymade network of yoga instructors under his stage name, Palo Santo. 

Palo santo’s ubiquity today grew from its two foundational use cases: repelling pests and masking the odor of too many naked bodies in poorly ventilated New Jersey basements. Palo santo is still used today as a repellent of sorts to ward off bad vibes and people who do not use the word vibe in place of most nouns at the end of a question, such as scene, weather, temperature, culture, menu, rules, culture, law, opinion, suggested attire, relationship status, sexual proclivity, net worth and so on. It is also still used during group sex, but only when the group sex is intentional and/or ceremonial. There are many other ways, however, that you can improve the vibes of the world through the smoke of this wood, which was recently added to IUCN’s Red List of “near threatened” species, making it even more important to burn palo santo as a way of calling attention to its growing scarcity. 

Airplanes 

For a brief, blissful period during the pandemic, the only people who traveled were intrepid hipsters who had already contracted the virus and been instrumental in scaling it to global significance through music festivals, long-distance polycules and global nomadism. Commercial airlines from the spring of 2020 through the summer of 2021 were basically private air travel for people who know to always ask if party buffet chocolate is psycho-active. Air travel today is a much lower vibration experience, and it’s important that assertive restorative steps be taken by conscious travelers to make flying chill again. Hanging a dreamcatcher from the back of the seat in front of you and burning palo santo on the tray table is a great way of making a public flight experience feel more private. Be sure to light your palo santo only after the aircraft reaches cruising altitude, because tray tables must be stowed until then. 

Other people’s parties

Not everyone with whom you may socialize is aware of how critical palo santo is to creating and maintaining a vibe. Some less experienced hosts try to make do with incense from India, Japan or other countries that have been annexed by Brooklyn or with candles from La Labo, and it may be up to you to rescue the vibe. Back when people consumed alcohol, bringing a nice bottle of wine was a way of showing a host your appreciation, but these days bringing palo santo, immediately lighting it and waving the stick around like Harry Potter on quaaludes is the optimal way of saying thank-you to someone who has invited you into their home.  

Hospitals

While palo santo has not been proven by any form of science to deliver the healing benefits touted by people who sell or use palo santo, be assured that it does all of the things people say it does. Burning palo santo creates smoke, and smoke is pretty to watch and - like cardiovascular exercise - creates a healthy challenge for your lungs. Medical facilities are places where people go to heal, and bringing palo santo to visit a recovering friend is a beautiful contribution to not only their journey back to health but also the recovery of every patient within a twenty to fifty foot radius. 

Conscious uncoupling ceremonies

Modifying your relationship trajectory in a direction that disappoints the person you are with might seem like a low vibe experience, but you can make it a high vibe experience by burning palo santo. While explaining that the rules that you set last week for your ENM pairing have become too confining, burning palo santo will deflect negative reactions and in some cases even seduce your partner into being amenable to a situationship that has absolutely no structure, rules or expectations. This can add to your sexual abundance and also serve as a pillar in your temple of confidence that helps you acquire new lovers at floor parties. If, rather than just undefining the relationship, you are certain there is no future with the person to whom you have exposed particles of burning wood, palo santo will prevent your ex-partner from making an opposing case or lingering too long after you have had uncoupling sex. 

During sex with someone you don’t want to fall in love with you

In a rare moment of cultural relevance, Science has proven that pheromones strengthen the bonds of attraction between two or many more people during sexual activity. Sometimes, though, it is undesirable to strengthen bonds with a sex partner. Sometimes, it is optimal to maintain a totally impartial, unattached, stoic distance between the person who you are inside / is inside of you, given that attraction can lead to unintended expectations. Burning palo santo is an excellent way of muting the potency of pheromones, leveling the olfactory playing field and creating a piney through-line for all the people participating in a sexual experience. 

Any kind of intentional wellness space

Because the smell of palo santo is so potent and distracting, burning it during intentional experiences (e.g. yoga, journaling, meditation, tantra classes, tantric sex, facials or any kind of PRP therapy) compels participants to step up their intention-setting efforts. It forces deep focus and concentration, kind of like how the deafening emo whines of RY X at a RY X concert force you to lean in, cock your head and make that weird squinty-eyed, mouth-agape listening face to be able to hear the unsolicited story of how literally anyone you happen to be standing next to was in an intentional polyamorous relationship with RY X.

Ancient actually sacred genuinely authentic real cultural events that were not invented by white people to extract money from other white people

Many people who attend Burning Man have begun to explore other intentional gatherings outside of Nevada that don’t involve metallic gold body paint. Some of these gatherings are thousands of years old and are led by people who have trained their entire lives to uphold traditions that have been passed down for generations within their culture. Particularly if a gathering takes place in its country of origin (rather than being exported, diluted and branded, like an ethnic fast food franchise), you may encounter native smells that don’t smell like palo santo. In these cases, it is not only permissible but even advisable to add palo santo to everyone’s experience, which you have probably been very reluctantly allowed to attend. Burning palo santo will communicate to the religious or cultural leaders of the gathering that you are on their level and (despite having never read anything about the gathering other than first few words of the top Google result you saw while standing on the Premier Access line into your Delta flight at JFK / LAX / SFO) have a deep respect for whatever they are chanting in a language that you cannot understand while you record the most intensely sacred moments for the Instagram story that you will post at the appropriate time in your home time zone so that everyone will know that you are an internationally intentionally spiritual person who gets access to authentic cultural events. 

Despite its countless unproven benefits and its universal appeal within a very small circle, there are certain times when palo santo should not be burned. Palo santo can trigger flashbacks for people who first encountered the scent of it during acid trips. If someone walks into your container, smells the palo santo you’re burning and begins behaving erratically, just ask them to immediately return to their own container, lest they harsh the vibe you’re cultivating. The only other times that do not call for burning palo santo are when you’re alone, and no one else will see you lighting the stick and waving it around the room, bringing it within inches of everyone’s face whether they’ve invited it or not, while making awkwardly long eye contact with them, nothing but the winding trail of smoke in front of your your vulnerable gaze, thus communicating to them that you are a spiritually endowed person and care deeply about them knowing that you are a spiritually endowed person. So, a helpful rule of thumb is this: as with masturbation, you should always and only be burning palo santo when someone is watching, otherwise what’s the point.

Blooming in Asakusa.

Tokyo, Japan.

★彡BRAT TAMER☆彡

Gyomei Himejima x Fem! Reader

TW: Soft Dom! Gyomei • Fem! Reader • Brat Taming • Spanking • Punishment • Creampie • Breeding Kink • Dom/Sub dynamics • Belly Bulge • Fluff • Gyomei says a naughty word🫢

Happy birthday Gyomei Himejima♥️

This is Gyomei so it’s fluffy, but I’m planning to write a Dabi Brat Tamer fic… and make it less fluffy ;)

Your husband is always so patient.

His poignant attitude allowed hardly any irritation to be sent your way.

Instead, he felt sorry for you.

He felt sorry you felt like acting out all day. Whatever had gotten you in a such a rotten and irritable mood, he desperately wanted to eliminate it. His sweet darling wife, whom he holds close to his heart and prays for only peace and happiness. Yes, his small and adorable spouse, has been nothing but an immature brat from the rising of the sun to the setting of it. Since the birds began their morning harmony, you’d felt the need to push and pick at his enormous generosity and patience.

He felt sorry for you.

Yet his sorrow would not amount to how sorry you were going to be if you didn’t stop.

He knew he’d just returned from a terribly long mission away from you. He was aware the loneliness had built up while he was away, and you were only releasing the frustration you were forced to hold onto in his absence. This entire week he’s been home, your actions spoke of nothing but defiance and a forced hierarchy shift in your shared household.

You’ve continuously interrupted his prayer and meditation time.

“Mei, I need this done.” Your chores mindless and seemingly made up each and every time, like shifting a statue in the garden because it wasn’t attracting the birds you adored anymore… even though it was in spring which they returned.

You’ve denied all attempts at intimacy, and Gyomei is not a man who would ever pressure for anything sexual in nature, but he misses your sweet lips and soft figure in his arms. Even just holding his hand, whispering shared words of love, or basking in one another’s company has been rejected. You’re busy, as you’ve put it.

Yet desperately needy when he turns his attention elsewhere after rejection.

“My love, if I have dissatisfied you, I must know how I might amend this.”

“Gyomei… you haven’t, I’m fine.”

Yes.

He’s your ever patient and adoring husband.

His breaking point is surprisingly small and simple. His tears for once not flowing, but instead a few veins bulging from his skin in raw and prominent anger.

He’s your ever patient and adoring husband, until you do something foolish and hurt yourself. Your childishness and stubborn attitude of “I can do it myself”has you falling and nearly breaking your ankle. Attempting to reach a rafter on your own despite his size to help a regular visiting old cat down. The yowling elderly feline completely blind and often finding itself in need of rescue. He wasn’t entirely sure how you managed to get up there alone, likely some even more dangerous assembly of household items stacked for your journey up there. If he was not blind and had seen it, his fury might’ve even been more terrifying.

It was your sweet cooing, something he’s been deprived of, to the feline which caught his attention initially. It was the choked gasp which he’d heard from his meditation spot outside which had him moving. Despite all he was as a man, a proud Hashira, and your husband, he failed to catch you.

Your pain filled yelp and following tears enough to shatter his heart.

True to your attitude this week, your big watery eyes looked up at him, melting him, before your words dropped a bucket of ice water over everything.

“This is your fault! …sniff…”

Annoyance overwhelmed him. He only chanted lowly Namu Amidabutsu while carrying you off to be checked by a doctor. Your whines and sniffles normally invoking his own tears, but he’s silent and calm as he takes you away.

The doctor tells you to be more careful and stay off the foot as much as possible for the next few days. Nothing was broken, just a sprain and some swelling. Comfort would normally be the first thing you’d seek, your husband’s wide and pillowy chest perfect to burrow into and complain.

It’s a quiet few following days, as you heal and hobble around. So quiet, it becomes evident your world is off. Your patient, kind, and benevolent husband… is like an ice wall. Stoic, chanting from morning till night, praying, training, and then ignoring you. Quite literally ignoring you too, standing as if he can’t hear you despite having some of the best hearing of anyone you know. He avoids all contact with you, it’s as if you’re air and don’t exist. You think it a challenge, who can outlast the other in this Cold War, but it was never a battle you’d succeed in. No, despite your best and brattiest attempts, despite trying to seduce him, despite becoming furious and yelling at him… you lost. Your tears falling first, your heart crumbling, and your anxiety winning.

It’s late that evening, and your husband is out meditating under the moon. Looking serene and beautiful while you internally crumble as you move towards him. He knows you’re there, his hums and low chants not stopping even as your fall to your knees.

“Mei…” your weak and wobbly voice does nothing.

“Gyomei…” again, it’s as if you aren’t there at all.

“…I’m sorry…hck…please I’m sorry… I was wrong.” Tears fell like rain drops from your eyes and down your cheeks, dripping from your chin to your clenched hands in your lap. You really were sorry. “I don’t know why I- please, I’m sorry my love, please talk to me… I’ll do anything—”

“Anything?” You hadn’t realized he’d stopped chanting, his attention, and sweet focus on you for the first time in days.

“Y-yes! My love I—” he raised a palm to silence you.

“Go to our room. I want you naked on the floor when I come in.”

“…?” You’re dumbfounded, unsure if you even heard him correctly. Except Gyomei is standing, his full height even more intimidating as you flounder to stand back up. He’s wordlessly walking away, not in the direction of your shared bedroom, but smartly you choose to follow his orders instead of following him. His wide and impressive back getting smaller in the distance as you hurry along to complete the task at hand.

It’s somewhat cool in the room, and for the last several days Gyomei hasn’t slept in the space with you at all. The bed wasn’t made, not like you’d normally do, and for once you bit your lip and quickly tidied it despite him not even being able to see it. It helped calm your racing heart though, as you begin slipping from your robes, shivering as your bare skin comes in contact with the chilled air. You weren’t sure what else to do after that, instead just sitting on the floor and waiting.

Wait you did, nearly half an hour. Shivering and continuously debating between wrapping yourself in a blanket or not. He’d hear the rustling of fabric though, and you didn’t want to risk him thinking you disobeyed. Just as the internal war was nearly won, you heard familiar firm footsteps approaching. As Gyomei slid the door open, his head dipping to allow him into the space without knocking his face. He wasn’t empty handed though, and you noticed something that had the blood draining from your face.

It was a thin but sturdy looking branch, all protruding smaller leaves and branches removed. It was a switch, likely from the wisteria tree in your garden.

The door slid closed, and your husband’s face revealed nothing to you as you tried to reason with yourself that this wasn’t happening.

Except it apparently was. Gyomei bypassed you sitting on the floor, moving to take up a spot on your shared bed, legs spread wide but the branch remaining in his had had your heart rate picking up. His tone left no room for arguments.

“Come here.”

While Gyomei certainly wasn’t inclined towards corporal punishment, he also couldn’t think of a more simple method. Ignoring you wasn’t that healthy. Forgiving and forgetting wasn’t an option either, your behavior having become self destructive.

“Lay on your stomach here,” he pats his right thigh, “and lay your face here,” he’s got a pillow beside him which he taps. He can feel your trembling as you climb on the bed, but he’s proud you’re listening so well for him. “Good girl.” He punctuates his praise by gently petting down your hair, letting you settle into position, forced to stick your ass higher and feel your own arousal slightly cool on your thighs. You’re trembling in fear yes, but there’s something else in your gut that has you shaking too.

“My love… m’sorry please, c-can we talk?” You know what’s going to happen, it’s fairly obvious, but a small part of you wants to beg your way out of it. If you can just sound scared enough, seem meek and cute enough, then maybe….

“Hii!” Your yelp is accompanied by the swish and slap of the switch hitting your bare ass.

“Namu Amidabutsu….” He’s murmuring now as a few tears slide down his cheeks, but as you jolt and attempt to get up because of the sting, a big palm is forcing you back down. Pinning you to his thigh as another strike lands and has you wailing. It’s a miserable sound, your little whines and cries pitiful and truly sounding sorry, but Gyomei is murmuring each offense he’s had to lock in his heart for every tiny lash against your soft doughy ass and thighs.

“hurting yourself…” “Mei! I’m sorry!”

“telling me I’m annoying…” “Sorry!”

“going to bed without me…” “p-please..”

“brushing me off…” “hck!”

“ignoring me…” “…sniff…”

“not saying you love me back…” only your pathetic whimpers are offered in consolation. The last offense even hurting you, because you don’t know why you did it, where it all came from. You just know you’re sobbing uncontrollably now. The pain on your bottom already fading, only some red lines detailing where he’d punished you. It didn’t matter, the flood gates had been opened, and you were a mess as you begged for forgiveness.

Even as your lower belly burned in heat and arousal. It was an odd combination, the release of such emotion and rush of pleasure from the strange intimacy of it all.

You jolt in surprise as his large palm softly passes over your sore and sensitive ass, the caress nearly consoling as you let yourself slowly relax.

“Mei…”

“Shh… you did so good my love. Thank you for being obedient.”

He let his other hand go free, throwing the switch far off. Cooing and gently patting down your hair. He seemed to melt into your sweet protective husband again. Except the hand that was so softly tracing your ass dipped lower, eliciting a moan as Gyomei allowed his thick finger to swipe over your drenched entrance.

“Crying here too…?” His tone is slightly teasing, but you can’t retort back as the rough and calloused digit rubs your clit with the arousal which leaked out of you now. Swirling and pressing even as your hips shake and wiggle and you moan into the blankets. The hand on your head tightens, so minutely you don’t notice until your face is unburied and your moans are forced to echo through the room. It’s not until he wiggles his finger into your tight cunt that you really feel like melting. Your whole body on fire as Gyomei slowly and nearly torturously slides in and out of you, rubbing around your gooey slick heat.

“Oh fuck Mei, please.” Your mewling in pleasure now, trying to arch your back further in his lap and buck your hips back into his hand. Fingers digging into the blankets and twisting the fabric as he adds another finger to your drooling hole.

“You really don’t deserve a reward.” You aren’t listening to him, not at all, as he finger fucks you. The sounds in the room becoming erotic, the wet squelching of your walls sucking in his fingers filthy. You’re closer than you’d ever been with him only mildly playing with you, absolutely teetering on the edges of an orgasm. Your body shaking, perspiration dotting your skin, as you wantonly cried out for your husband as you nearly reach your peak—

“No!” He slides his fingers out at the last moment. “Why’d you stop?” Your distress palpable as one hand reaches back to try and grab his wrist, to bring it back to your soaked pussy where you need it.

Instead you feel two wet fingers pressing against your lips until you open, his fingers invading your mouth now, to taste yourself and what could’ve been your release. His skin is rough even against your tongue, playing and teasing the muscle in your mouth as you begin to suck and lick.

“Good girl…” the praise goes right back to your neglected orgasm, your hips wiggling and body trying to push up. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with an audible pop, and you can barely see from the corner of your eye Gyomei lick the very same fingers he’d used on your cunt and mouth. You groan in arousal and frustration, but are smart enough to keep your comments to yourself.

“Do you wish to cum love?” You’ve never answered faster in your life.

“Yes! Please darling, I want to cum for you.”

His expression isn’t right, though his cheeks are flushed and breathing slightly heavy, he seems mildly amused.

“Then you’re going to work for it.”

Confused but not turned off by this dominant side of your husband, you agree softly, letting him move you so you’re sitting in his lap now. Legs spread and thighs hugging his waist.

His warm breath, the scent of sandalwood and wisteria clinging to his robes and skin, leaves you aching inside. He leans down, at firstly only lightly brushing his lips over yours before finally kissing you. The kiss turns deeper and more passionate by the second, Gyomei’s normally cautious and devote attitude towards you waning. He’s much rougher instead as your fingers sink into his clothing, his thick tongue sliding into your mouth and devouring you. His deep and vocal groan have you shaking again, this time in pure and carnal need for him.

You’re quick to try and remove his clothing, pawing clumsily while he still maintains his composure and slowly fulfills your silent request in stripping so you can feel his chest and body. Only able to receive at this moment and not take, mindlessly grinding against your husband’s still covered body.

Gyomei’s hands roam you, normally his favorite pass time just feeling and seeing you in his own way. Taking you in for all that you are. He’s not looking at you right now though, not as a hand cups your breast to roll and pinch your poor nipple before switching to the other for the same treatment. He’s not looking now, as he anchors your greedy movements and limits your range of motion with an arm around your waist. He’s feeling you, feeling your passion, and controlling it so skillfully it’s leaving you reeling and in a completely new space.

Once Gyomei is satisfied with your swollen wet lips, his own matching with a devastating smirk, he lifts you entirely up with one arm to yank and pull off any clothing preventing him from sinking his thick throbbing cock inside you.

“Gyomei oh!” He’s never fucked you with so little prep before, normally pulling at least two orgasms from your body before entering you… but entering like this—

“Tight—,” he hissed as the tip slides into your opening, splitting your pussy open and making room for each inch, “—relax my love.” Gyomei is cruel, impaling you on his enormous rod as you struggle to even breath right now. Choking on air as you try to relax, try to allow him inside you without tensing up and feeling even fuller if it were possible. A whimper escapes from Gyomei’s grit teeth, as he struggles to let gravity sink you down instead of his own strength stuffing you full. “Feels so good love, doing so well for me,” he grunts as he feels your walls pulse and flutter around him, milking his shaft as he mutters a few calming chants to keep himself from being too rough with you. Your moans and whimpers soon swallowed by another wet hot kiss, tongues dancing as you cry into Gyomei’s mouth when his tip pushes in enough that you feel a dull ache up inside you.

If you looked down, you’d see his thick cock protruding just a little from inside you. This position sinking him deep, your breathing ragged and uneven as you dig your nails into his biceps to ground yourself.

Your husband is not merciful tonight, the welts on your ass burning a bit from the hairs on his thighs and the position you’re in rubbing. The pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure of being so full leaves you struggling to focus. Your hips trying to grind and move, to attach yourself close to Gyomei and rub your clit just enough on his pelvis to help you finish.

His hands halt you.

“Bounce.” With that command, he’s leaning back, shifting his cock further up inside you. “Oh hmn!” You try to scramble off a little, “S’too deep!”Gyomei lifts you a little, kind enough not to go too far yet with you, your pussy needing time to fully adjust and take him. On his back, he’s like a work of art laid out for you, scars adorning his skin like brush strokes of life. His muscles taunt as he breathes deeply, keeping still and letting you set the pace.

You start slow, the heavy drag of his cock in your walls actually taking leg work to pull up from. Your greedy cunt wrapped tightly around him and refusing to let go, but the pleasure increases along with your slick, allowing for an easier glide soon. Your body bounces, balls of your feet digging into the bed for stability as your thighs quake and you struggle to maintain composure. Your cries and Gyomei’s deep moans and breathless grunts have that tightness returning. Gyomei has a familiar itch in his chest as he listens and feels, desperate to look at you and see you come apart, but his hands can only move to cup your cheeks. Fingers caressing and moving over your face to feel you, the tears still drying and the wetness on your lips he left.

He can’t help the way his hips buck, fucking up into you. “Always taking me so well my love, just made for my cock.” He’s panting, loving how your little hands scramble on his skin to clutch onto him for purchase. “You don’t need to think anymore, do you?” He’s driven wild by your senseless babbling and noises, the sounds of skin slapping as you try to match his erratic thrusts, the feeling of your combined fluids beginning to make you both sticky. The way you smell, your soft natural musk making his mouth water and thighs clench. He’s slightly disappointed not having fucked your hole first with his tongue, so he could gather the taste of you on his lips before he’d slid his cock inside you.

“Oh,” you feel like a rag doll, Gyomei’s hands roaming your face and body so sweet compared to the way he was bullying his tip against your cervix. Driving you further into a mindless whore, desperate for the orgasm you seem to keep being denied. It hurt but it felt too good for you to ask for a break, a deep trust still built between you both, and if you begged him to to stop he would. You were so close, just on the edge, and every moment you’d almost shatter is the time Gyomei would thrust. Breaking your concentration and starting you all over.

Your thighs are aching from the strain of exertion, your movements slowing down, sweat sliding down your body and making it harder to grip on to Gyomei.

You were getting tired, your release so close. “Husband, my love, p-please, please I need to cum.” You sound broken, voice hoarse from all of your crying and moaning. “I can’t do it anymore, I need you, need you please darling.” Gyomei has always adored the sound of your voice, but he adores this voice of yours probably the most.

“Since you’ve asked nicely.” Your world spins, before you feel yourself enveloped in the softness of your bed, your husband now looming over you and covering you completely. His lips capture yours, moaning into the kiss as he easily spreads your legs, one thigh encouraged to wrap around his waist while he holds the other up. He’s sliding in much easier now, the squelch of your pussy nearly drown out by your cry of pleasure. Each inch filling you up once more, but now you’re not in control. Gyomei’s thrusts are deep and heavy no matter how gentle he attempts to be. Your body jolting with his movements, even as he begins slowly.

“I’m going to make you cum my love, shh, you’re fine, breathe,” he’s speeding up, your eyes rolling back as you feel your limits nearing dangerously close with your orgasm, “Keep taking me just like this.” His husky tone is debauched as he moans your name, his muscles taunt as he worked his tip into a familiar spot inside you which he knows drives you wild.

“Mei, oh please, yes, I-I’m g-gonna—“ it’s a wonder if he’s showing mercy when he begins to fully fuck his entire length into you or not. Either way, the cord inside you finally snaps, a silent cry on your lips as your back arches off the mattress. Gyomei is quick to shift, dropping your thigh in favor of gripping your ass and angling your hips higher for himself to pave a new path inside of you with his cock. Your spasming cunt creaming around him doesn’t slow his pace, seemingly intent on fucking you stupid now. You’re used like a toy now, too weak to fully contribute more than your sounds of ecstasy and nail marks in his forearms or chest where you can reach.

“That’s it love, just let me use you now. You don’t need to do anything else but take it.” His words are mixed with desperate grunts and even something akin to a growl deep in his chest.

“Please s’too- ngh” Your soft body is pliant in his hold, which Gyomei is happy to fold up. Your pussy finally stretched enough to accommodate all of his length and girth without the pain which has you whining and scrambling away from him.

“Can’t—no—,” even as the words leave your lips, you’re wracked again by another climax as Gyomei rubs your swollen clit with his thumb. The gentle rolling motions juxtaposed to his rough drilling inside your gummy walls.

“Do you want me to—hah—fill you up?” His skin is soaked in sweat like yours, rolling down his muscles and creating nearly a dreamy state from the heat you both radiated in the cool room.

You didn’t even think about before you started begging.

“Yes Mei, fill me please, need— oh fuck—“ He’s pressed so close to you, his weight nearly a burden until thankfully he uses a free hand to keep himself up as his dick throbs and twitches inside you. Each hot rope of cum filling you up, space limited with Gyomei inside, leading it to spill out the sides and down his heavy balls. His hips still, panting above you while his pleasure and orgasm wash over him.

“So lovely.” He murmurs as he pulls out, your legs going limp as Gyomei’s cum leaks out of your body with the absence of his cock to keep you plugged. A kiss to your forehead and cheeks, then your neck and chest, and down your stomach has your twitching.

It’s not until you feel his lips on your inner thigh that you realize what he’s doing.

“I already came twice…” your little unspoken plea not convincing enough.

“Then cum again my love.” His wide flat tongue begins boldly on your slit. Lapping up his own cum leaking out of you as well as your own. His muffled moan against you has your hands twisting into his hair, tugging for more or less unclear as you writhe. Strong licks are soon accompanied by two fingers, intent on prodding and stretching you out more. The wet spot beneath you growing bigger by the minute as Gyomei passionately eats your pussy. Your scent and his was a delirious combination that has his length hardening again, rutting against the soft sheets and blankets you’ve both sullied. When your thighs twitch and close around his face, he doubles his efforts, lightly sucking on your clit while flicking it with the tip of tongue, fingers curling and fucking you perfectly until you shatter again.

The pressure of his fingers in that spot leaving your body no choice as you squirt, soaking his lower face and body. His smile blocked by your twitching and crying figure, your head thrown back as you try to push his face away, his fingers still move inside you.

You can’t even speak anymore, mindlessly moaning even as tears flow down your cheeks.

Finally he gives reprieve, removing his hand and only softly licking up your release, not attempting to further arouse you.

You lay panting, unfocused and tired red rimmed eyes staring at your completely recovered husband. His dick hard, the heavy weight of it not allowing it to stand at full attention, gravity pulling it down.

A bad feeling entered your gut.

You listened to it this time. Flipping onto your stomach, you’re quick to make an eecape from under him. Just as your legs drag up to let you get off the bed, Gyomei’s hand is around an ankle. Tugging you back with a laugh not suitable for the situation, nearly mocking.

“My love, I didn’t say we were done. Where are you going?” He’s speaking and moving at the same time, a hand on your hip pulling you up onto all fours as his tip finds your messy entrance.

A strange warbled noise leaves your throat when he shoves the entire thing inside in one go. Instantly filling you and leaving you no room to move or breathe as the room spins.

Gyomei isn’t any better off. Your tight pussy overstimulating him, your body beneath his hands making him lose focus. He wants to fuck you harder, be rougher, let you see how much he’s been holding back this entire time.

He’s not gentle. His pace brutal from the start, one hand on your hip to keep you up, and another wrapped around you belly. Feeling the tip of his cock through you with each thrust, his moans mingling with your broken cries. Your face in the blankets, hands clutching onto the fabric for comfort as your husband claims you in a way he’s never done before.

You don’t want it to stop. Even as you feel like you’re losing your sanity, as your thighs and ass burn from your punishment, the literal force of his body against yours too much. You want him to break you, leave you nothing but a mess for his pleasure for once.

“Ngh, do you like this love? See how much I hold back for—ah—you?” He’s hardly thrusting as he is yanking you back onto his cock, your limp body easily sliding on and off.

“Should I keep you like this all night?” He knows you can’t answer, you can hardly cry out anymore.

“I’ve missed you my love, missed your sweet words, your love and sincerity, and your body.” It’s a very romantic and Gyomei like confession, but your fucked out brain registers nothing anymore, still too focused on the orgasm you’re going to have again.

“Are you lonely my dear? Should I make sure you’re with child come morning?” He’s taken back by how badly that scenario arouses him. Would it help you feel less stressed while he was away to not be alone? To have children love and help care for you with him?

He’s pounding you, your drenched face rubbing against the sheets as you’re dragged back and forth like a doll. Mouth open and drooling as you cum again, this time followed by Gyomei who nearly shouts as his orgasm hits. His own body shaking and trembling from the force of pleasure bleeding into his system.

You’re wrapped in strong arms and rolled to your side, Gyomei’s semi-hard cock still nestled inside you with his cum as his lips find whatever available skin he can kiss.

“I love you my dearest, thank you for being mine… was I too rough with you?” Gyomei waits a while for an answer that does not come, until he realizes you’re completely passed out. Limp and exhausted, you must’ve lost consciousness on your last orgasm.

Chuckling, he’s kind enough to clean you up, change the sheets to dry ones, and cuddle up with in your shared bed. His breathing quick to even out with yours, holding you in his arms.

Come morning, there’s plenty of time to talk as you lay bed ridden, your patient and dutiful husband happy to care for you. The conversation leading to deeper understand between one another, and a realization to your behavior and feelings being linked with stress and anxiety.

While you feel comforted and sure to take good care of your husband in the future, you do take note of what acting out gets you.