Yandere Mr Compress (Part 2!)

Guided Sins (18+)

Karl Heisenberg x reader smut

This is part ten of my series! Check my masterlist for the rest of the parts!

Warning: It’s a smut! Overstimulation, messy use of toys, penetration, titty fucking. A teeny bit of choking. Spanking. Daddy kink.

Summary: The day hasn’t been finished, and both of you are dealing with the aftermath of what had happened at the church. You try to hide your raging thoughts, while he tries to hide his dreams. He thinks the two of you need a night to relax, and where he wants to go may surprise you.

- - -

A loud roar of thunder rattled through the thick factory walls, the storm that had started hours ago still going on strong. Their were no windows in this room, leaving you only to listen as you laid on your side, your arm tucked underneath your pillow.

The storm kept you awake, leaving you laying still for what felt like a good while. You lost track of what time of day it was, but a million other things on your mind had you care less.

Your family was at the top of the list. Your sisters, your mother even. You wondered how Bela was doing, worried that your frantic actions hurt her too much to forgive you. You wondered if Cassandra and Daniela told her the truth, and how she would’ve reacted.

You thought of Alcina, wondering if she found out you had left yet or not. How would she react, you wondered, would she react angry or sad, or both? What were you saying? She’ll be both and so much more.

Regardless of those thoughts, you were here. You were here in Karl’s bed, inside his room, inside his factory. The fact you were here was still hard to believe, everything that had happened felt like a sort of dream. Like it was almost too good to be true. But now that you were here, what would happen now?

Were you gonna live here? Live here with him? How would that work? He’s wanted you to be here for a while, so what type of plans does he have in his head for you?

God, you missed your sisters. Even though Karl said what he said, you still missed your Mother. You tried to play it off by her drinking too much, but everything had happened so fast and gone so far, you still felt like you were in the thick of it. Things everyone said, everyone’s raging emotions that screamed in your face like starving rabid lycans. All of it started to eat away at your mind, an anxiety you’ve held onto continued to get so intense it had you resist the urge to let out any tears. You didn’t want to cry now. Not while you were here.

A warm arm slipped around your front, snaking around your waist and slowly pulling you closer. Your back went flush against Karl’s chest, the warmth of his body radiating like a large furnace. You heard him let out a slow exhale, his hold on you growing more secure. You couldn’t help but smile, hearing him let out a yawn behind you.

“You’re growing soft on me Karl?”

“Mm? Nah,” He spoke in a low, tired tone. “You’re fuckin’ freezing. Don’t want you gettin’ sick, and you end up gettin’ me sick.”

“Sure.” You dragged out the word in a teasing tone, bringing your hand to rest over his warm arm. Feeling his touch reminded you why you were here, because all he wanted to do was keep you safe. He wanted to keep you safe, you repeated to yourself, the warmth of the truth temporarily flushing out your anxieties to soothe you into slumber’s embrace.

Karl watched your form slowly rise and fall with your sleeping breath, unable to help himself as his thumb slowly brushed against your skin. He was almost tempted to run his fingers through your soft looking hair, but fought against it over the concern it would keep you awake.

He was glad you were getting some sleep, all while he had woken up from his unrestful one.

The dream started off strange: He was entering Castle Dimitrescu, the bright lights from the crystal chandeliers flooding his unshielded eyes. He heard you call his name, your form coming down the stairs dressed in your white gown, looking as beautiful as he first saw you.

You were happy and bubbly, walking over to him with a bright smile on your face. When you got closer you took his hands, and told him how much you adored him. The plain truth stunted him for moment, his reaction making you giggle. You leaned closer for a kiss, but hesitated just inches away from his lips.

Then, you started to laugh. It was a sinister sounding cackle, changing your sweet voice into something evil. He looked at you, watching as your face scrunched up in amusement with your brows heavily furrowed. A black, thick substance started spewing from your mouth, temporarily halting your laughter as you choked on said substance, dripping from your chin down to your dress front, permanently staining the white material.

“Heisenberg...”

You said his name, but not in your own tone of voice.

“Heisenberg!” Miranda yelled at him, her cold voice in your warm body. She laughed again, your mouth stained with rich black ink.

Miranda began reciting words and phrases, words that have been used to harm and berate him for years.

Words from his own family: harsh and cold. Words from Miranda: stale with deceit, and words from Alcina: Bitter and ruthless.

He was forced to listen to your black lips recite everything with her tone, all while he was frozen in place to listen to them all.

When he woke up, he was surprised that the way he jolted didn’t wake you. Maybe you didn’t notice him, maybe you were too lost in your own thoughts. But seeing you beside him, knowing you were with him made him relax considerably. He pulled you into his embrace, feeling relieved that it wasn’t a dream. You were safe here, and that’s all that mattered.

When you woke up again, he was gone.

You didn't hear rain anymore, but you couldn’t hear him anywhere nearby. Sitting up, you looked around to find the bedroom door closed. Maybe he left somewhere in the factory to work, he did look like a workaholic.

Looking for something to wear, you got out of bed and used your fingers to fix your hair. You found one of his long sleeve button ups draped over the work bench along with his hat and glasses, settling for putting on the garment and buttoning it up by the time you walked out into the hallway. As a joke, you took the glasses with you.

You went towards the only room you would think he would be, finding the man himself standing over his workbench, lacking said shirt. His hair was tied back, keeping it out of his face as he finished putting an object of some sort into a dark bag. You couldnt see what it was, but it didnt look like he heard you yet as you walked up behind him.

It looked like he cleaned up the room a little bit, the metal scraps that were all over the ground before were set aside into an awkward pile in the far corner, and the body parts were gone.

"Hey," Your voice filled his ears, breaking him out of his unconsentrated thoughts. He turned to look at you, a broad smirk forming on his face when he saw you in his shirt, adorning his sunglasses.

"Well, Good morning kitten." His arms snaked around your waist, bringing you close to him before lifting you up, raising you to sit ontop of the desk.

"This is a good look for you," He commented, seeing you giggle before taking off the sunglasses, blinking a little from the change of light in the room. “These are darker than I thought. How do you wear these things?"

Karl chuckled, taking his sunglasses and setting them aside on the table. Both hands ran along your hips, carresing them as he gazed into your eyes. He was quick to kiss you, your arm going behind his neck in compliance.

"What time is it?" You tried to speak up, the man's hungry lips trapping you back into the kiss before you could finish your sentence. He hummed a bit before letting go slowly, sighing a little bit. "We havent been asleep that long, got up once the storm stopped."

"You should’ve stayed in bed."

"I, uh, I need to fix some things I broke.”

"You mean those metal soldiers?"

"Mhm," He nodded, "I'll need to replace parts, find new subjects. All that kind of stuff."

"Hm," You pondered for a moment, biting your bottom lip as you leaned back on your palms against the table. "I mean, I could help. I could help get you some fresh bodies."

"Really now?" Karl chuckled when he saw you nod your head. "Well look at you, already putting yourself to use."

"Oh hush," You giggled, leaning for a quick kiss again. "I may need to go to Donna's anyway."

To this, he raised his brow. Go to Donna's? But you just got here, why do you need to go to the doll obsessed woman's home?

"Why?"

"In case you haven’t noticed, you ripped my only dress. She has lots of spare fabrics I can use to make my own."

"You can sew?" He asked that with more surprise in his tone than before. Just exactly how many things did you know how to do?

"Right, but what clothes are you gonna wear to go there?" He pointed out, his hands going over to rest along your hips again. You looked down at yourself, your lips forming a frown when you realized he was right. Maybe before you ran away, you should’ve at least brought something. But wasn’t like you knew you were going to stay here.

Karl couldnt help but laugh at your silence, making you frown even more. "Relax darling, I think I got some things you can borrow. Actually, I was gonna head over to see the Duke, maybe you’d wanna come along and then if theirs time I can go with you to Donna’s."

"Aww, You scared of me going alone?"

“Hm, I’m not against you leaving on your own, but the idea of you staying here wearin’ my clothes is so tempting,” Karl hoisted you up in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. You giggled as you gripped his shoulders, watching him walk out of the room and head towards the bedroom. He purposely dropped you on the bed, watching your body bounce before he caged you underneath him, your laughter filling up his chest with joy.

His hands found your wrists and pinned them to the sides of your head, glaring down at you with humorous eyes before giving you a kiss. You straddled his waist with your legs, feeling his chest rumble as he peppered kisses along your neck and chest.

“Karl,” You playfully whined, feeling his facial hair prickle your skin. “I need clothes damnit.”

“Fine fine,” He chuckled, joining you for a final kiss before leaving you.

He brought out dark brown pants, a leather belt, a black shirt and a navy coat. You couldn’t remember the last time you wore pants, or a plain shirt such as this. In fact, just wearing these clothes felt a little silly for a moment. You had to tuck in the shirt, and tuck the pant legs into your boots so they weren’t awkwardly sticking out. By the time you were done, you took one look at yourself in the mirror, and couldn’t help but start to laugh.

You looked silly wearing men's clothes, but you also felt really comfortable. It was a new kind of fun, one that had you laughing like a little child.

Karl had watched you the entire time, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. His clothes looked... new on you, in an adorable way. Maybe the jacket was a tad too big, but with weather like this, it would do you fine.

"I look silly, dont i?" You couldn’t help but question, seeing him approach you and shake his head. "Not really, You just look... small."

"Small?" You tilted your head.

"I mean, like you’re just innocent looking. Like a lost little tourist." He shrugged it off, seeing the way you started to smile.

You stepped closer and hooked your fingers under his belt, roughly pulling him closer until your chest pressed up against his.

“You and I know that I’m not innocent." You told him in a low, sultry tone before kissing him, barely giving him time even process a response. His hands returning towards your hips, roaming down along the curves of your ass.

You jumped when he spanked you, quickly massaging the area right after. The shiver that went down your body made him chuckle, breaking the kiss to see your flushed cheeks. "Bet that felt nice, didnt it?" You didn’t want to say anything, but it was well written all over your face that you may have liked it. A little.

Karl went back towards his work area after getting dressed to get his hat and glasses, but realized his glasses were in the other room. You followed along with him, watching him go to where he had left his glasses on the work table, only to find them gone.

The man was confused, never recalling picking them up. When he turned around to ask, you had his darkened glasses framing your face, wearing a blank expression.

"I need those." He began, seeing you take them off of your face.

"Oh, you do?" You innocently asked, seeing him nod and extend his hand out. The last thing he expected you to do was turn around and run out of the room, almost accidentally running into the doorframe on the way out. His footsteps behind you were much faster than you expected, forcing you to try to run alot faster. You barely made it out of the factory doors before an arm wrapped around your front, your feet leaving the ground.

A burst of laughter came from you, pure silliness erupting from your chest like freshly opened chardonnay. Karl's laughter came right after yours, the man’s other hand coming towards your sides with wiggling fingers. The tickly sensation made you laugh even louder, almost breaking his glasses in your tightly squeezed hands.

"I can keep going!" He announced, putting you down only to assault your other side, forcing your body to curl as you laughed even louder.

"Alright Alright!" you cried out, giving in when it quickly became too much. You were used to tickling, you had three other sisters, But Karl's fingers were much more firm and larger, knowing your body well enough to attack your soft spots.

"Thank you sweetheart," He took them back from your hands, letting you catch your breath. His amused eyes disapeared behind his glasses, but his smirk remained. You smiled back, feeling the happiness spread through your body in ways you haven’t felt before, but only with him. It made you feel more emotionally secure for the time being.

Karl let the way, carrying along with him his hammer and said bag. You didn’t question what was in it, you only believed he was gonna get stuff from the Duke before putting in orders. In the meantine, you followed alongside him, starting up conversation about random things that came across both of your minds that didn’t come into the category as family oriented. While you two talked, you noticed the sun starting to set behind the large mountains, illuminating their crooked form and framing them in a fiery glow. You could barely catch a glipse of this through your bedroom window, but out here it so surreal and calm. Knowing you were probably gonna be out where when it turned turned into night time excited you a lot more than it should’ve.

You told Karl about how theirs a rare chance when the sun sets, a faint green light is shown for barely a few seconds. He said its hard to catch glimpses of that with mountains like these, but he knew what you meant. He’s only seen it on accident a couple times in his life. So you switched topics.

One of the topics you brought up were where the tourists came from: You didn’t exactly ask the few you’ve killed where they were from.

Karl said most of them came from America, this place thats exponentially advanced different types of technology. He said if you thought his factory was alot to take in, then you should see how americans used their technology. He believed the way they were using their resources and building skills were a complete waste, questioning why wouldn’t they put their actual needs instead of their silly desires first, things would make more sense.

You didn’t exactly understand him, thinking how and why americans who have alot more would want to visit a place like this.

"Its more for novelty, I believe. I think they just love the idea of going places they'll never have the chance to truly experience. I mean, they’ll see a large shiny castle and want to go and live in it, but they'll never realize just how much worse it actually is."

"What do you mean by that?'

"I think the reason Miranda put that bitch in the castle is because its an eyesore, and forgeiners like that. Their curiosity overruns their fear, and once they go into the spider’s web, they’re dead before they realize its too late. Forgeiners are idiots, they lack true skills to survive the world we do, and thats what gets them killed by someone as small as you."

“Someone as small as me?” You repeated with an amused giggle. “Oh please, most don’t even see me coming.”

“Bold claim by you, huh?” Karl mused while glancing at you, “You’re rare. You kill if it benefits those around you, but you don’t kill for yourself. Yet you enjoy it either way, don’t you?”

“It’s how I was raised,” You shrugged, letting out an exhale as the snow crunched underneath your boots. “Did I ever think I was gonna get to this point? No, but... it’s what I was brought into, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean.” He muttered, looking back on ahead as the village came into view. However, instead of the village, Karl started to lead you through a path that took you towards the church, which started to confuse you quite a bit.

"Where are we going?" You asked, closing your large coat around you more as the tempretures started to drop.

"I thought it would be nice to have a break here," Was all he said, bringing you into the church.

The candles were mostly all out, soon needing to be replaced by fresh ones. The torches along the walls still kept up their strong flames, basking the area in a warm glow.

The events from earlier came to mind the moment you saw Mother's chair, recalling just how loud and terrifying she had gotten. The broken pew was replaced by another, the scraps thrown aside somewhere you didn’t know. Karl stopped over to the pew, setting down his hammer and the bag he brought. You glanced over to the floor, seeing tiny glass shards lingering on the ground where the compass your mother destroyed used to be.

"Karl," You looked to see him opening up the bag, glancing over his shoulder towards your direction. "Why are we here?" Your voice was slightly shaky, the events of earlier still rattling your head like a wild snake's tail.

"Look, I... I feel bad for what happened earlier. I know all that stuff must be rattling in your brain like crazy. I was thinking we could be here for a little bit to drown out those bad memories, and make some good ones." He brought out a bottle of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid around.

It was... considerate of him to think this up. You had to admit, after what had happened the idea of a drink wasn’t all that bad.

"That’s sweet of you," You gave him a smile, seeing him pull out a cigar. "What else did you bring?"

"Oh just some other junk, it ain’t important.” He waved it off, opening the bottle of whiskey before handing it to you. You took the bottle, seeing him look for his lighter while you took a sip of the whiskey. You winced at the burn for a moment, holding your breath until it settled and let out an exhale.

"Shit," Karl muttered, unable to find his lighter. He looked over to one of the torches, holding the cigar up to light it up. You got amused at the sight, taking a seat on the new pew while taking another sip of whiskey.

Karl joined your side, bringing his arm back to rest against the backrest while bringing his foot up to rest on his other knee. You handed him the bottle and he accepted, offering you the cigar as fair trade.

The alcohol and cigars settled your nerves for the moment, warming your body and settling your mind. Although they were only placed behind a mental wall in your head, it was enough to keep you calm and ignore it for now.

"While we're here," Karl settled the bottle aside before bringing his attention over towards the bag.

"I have a surprise here for you."

“Oh?" You exhaled some smoke, seeing him adjust his legs until both feet were on the ground, then patted his lap for you to sit on. You giggled a little complied, sitting on top of his lap as one arm snaked comfortably around your waist.

He brought out a bundle of wrapped up dark cloth from the bag and handed it to you. You passed him the cigar, taking the cloth bundle and untying it slowly. Your fingers brushed against a smooth, cold metallic surface, your fingers slowly wrapping around what felt like a cylinder like object. You brought out the object with a look of confusion, tilting your head as you stared at this... thing.

It looked like it was made of smooth steel, the object at least six inches long. It reminded you of a round headed bullet, the cylinder like base looking similar to a blunt sword handle.

"What is it?" You looked at him, seeing him smirking the moment you held it in your hand.

"You don’t know what it is, huh?" He asked after exhaling some smoke to the side.

You shook your head. He started to laugh, making you even more confused than before. Why is he laughing??

"What is it?? Tell me!"

He laughed a moment longer before cocking his head, his smirk ever so present on his face. "And you say you aren’t innocent, Its a special toy Y/n."

"A toy?" You repeated.

"Mhm, A special one."

"A... oh," You looked back at the toy, realizing what he meant. "Oh."

Where did he... what??

You've heard of toys, but not anything like these. Especially not like these. You weren’t shy to admit to yourself that you learned about toys from books, but those were experiences you were gonna keep to yourself. You were confused, unsure how to exactly respond to this.

“What.. uh, what do I do?” You questioned, watching him blow out more smoke before gesturing to bring the object over. You handed it to him, watching it hold it for a moment before bringing it over to your neck. The cold sensation made you slightly shiver, feeling a little awkward where it was placed.

“I recall you saying you’ve never played with toys, right?” He asked, seeing you nod slowly. “Well, their are all different kinds of toys out there, and these are most common. I thought I’d introduce you to one, make a new and very good memory here for you.”

The metal began to buzz, making you gasp and jump a bit as it vibrated along your skin, resting against a sensitive area on your neck Karl knew you had. The sensation was strange, even though it was a small buzz, it felt really new and... nice, in a way. For some odd reason, it felt like a peculiar massage against your neck muscles, with made you smile a bit.

It stopped shortly after, Karl placing the object back into your hands. You looked at it, thinking at how it must feel where it was supposed to go. Maybe the thought excited you a little.

“You wanna try it out sweetheart?” Karl offered, seeing you meet his gaze for a moment before nodding. He smiled, turning his head to glance over towards a spot that he thought suited you perfectly.

“Sit in that bitch’s chair,” He gestured his head towards the large seat. In Mother’s chair? This guy was serious.

It didn’t faze you, but for some reason you started to get more nervous at the realization that you’d have to use this new toy in front of him.

Mother’s chair was quite large, it was quite tall for you to stand next to, let alone sit on top. You figured he would want you to get undressed first, so that’s what you chose to do.

You undid your belt while facing the chair and removed your pants and panties slowly, even going as far as to lean down and pull off your boots, taking everything off and for his viewing pleasure.

He watched the way you leaned down, eyes focused on the way those rosy lips of your entrance were glistening with excitement. It had him smile already knowing that you were so excited for this despite the nervousness. You hesitantly hoisted yourself up on the chair, surprised just how much bigger you thought it was when your feet didn’t touch the ground.

“Put your legs up,” Karl said, watching you slowly bring your feet up until your heels were pressed up on the surface of the seat. Alcina’s chair was actually really comfortable and roomy, giving you enough room to lean back on the back rest and have enough room to keep your feet up. You could curl up into a ball and still have room, but that wasn’t what you were here for.

“I want you to go slow kitten, tease yourself a little,” Karl watched you clutch the toy in your hand, thinking for a moment before pulling up your shirt.

It vibrated instantly with the soft vibrations that you felt on your neck. An excited sparkle of amusement ran through your body, feeling it quite ticklish just holding it in your hand. You weren’t sure how to properly react to this it: was just a simple vibration but just having Karl sit there watch you use this toy made you way more excited than you should’ve been.

Swallowing slowly, he met Karl’s gaze as you brought the toy slowly down between your breasts, maneuvering the vibrating object down your stomach ever so slowly.

The vibrations made a small giggle leave your lips. As ticklish as the sensation was, it did bring a faint sensitivity to your body. A light gentle friction that shot down your spine almost deliciously.

Karl sat up more on the pew, keeping his cigar in his mouth is he watched the toy travel down your beautiful body. When you rested the tip of the toy over your pubic mound the vibrations sort of felt as if they were increasing. It was weird, there was no button of any sort, or any little odd crank, and yet it acted like one of Karl’s strange machines. Maybe he built this toy for you, maybe he was planning on using it on you for a good while.

“Keep going kitten,” he ushered slowly while licking his lips and sharp teeth, “Keep those legs up, show me what I want to see.”

Taking a deep breath, you brought the tip of the vibrating toy down to your clit. Just a fraction of a second was all you needed to gasp and quickly take the toy away, the vibration sending a huge ripple of pleasure to spread to your core.

It felt like it was ticklish, good and awkward at the same time.

You weren’t used to this: you were used to fingers and Karl. It made you curious at how good this would make you feel the longer you used it. You returned the toy against your clit, a small whine leaving your mouth instantly.

The vibrations shot straight against your sweet spot, making you raise your hips slightly off the chair. The muscles in your thighs slightly quivered, running along your body in soft waves. The more you held the toy against you the more good at began to feel, but at the same time it was starting to feel a little too much for you to bare. After a couple more seconds you took the toy away, biting down on your lip as you let out a small shaky moan. The vibrations had your back almost arching off the chair, your body shivering at the way if left you feeling.

You almost wanted to close your thighs, but you knew that wasn’t what Karl wanted to see. He knew you were enjoying it, but you were just new at it. In fact, he liked watching you figure it out, to watch your body squirm as you dealt with the new sensation and to watch your pussy drip even more with pleasure. The way your would clench over nothing when you returned the toy again, those cute little whines and moans that left you. It was enough to make him take off his shades, leaning forward with his elbows to his knees as he watched with hungry, almost glowing eyes like a wolf watching his prey.

“You can’t be done yet baby. Go on, keep going.”

You let out a couple of short breaths, your shaking hands keeping the toy pressed against you. Some unknown force caused the toy to increase its vibrations, delivering a more strong sensation against your quickly warming core it had you arch your back again with a louder whine.

“Mmm!” Your other hand clutched the armrest, your hips slightly thrashing about as the buzzing against your core was starting to increase the rising pleasure. The muscles in your thighs started trembling with your hips almost refusing to keep still, the pleasure rising up and threatening to snap. You let out a slow, short whine, rocking your hips a little more against nothing as the fiery band threatened to snap. You were close, it was quick but you were so close, you could almost-

“Stop,” Karl ordered, forcing you to come back to your senses and pull the toy away. You took a moment to regain your breath, realizing the slick that gathered from your pleasure was practically dripping from your hole, pooling the surface of the chair. You let out a small, irritated groan at the lack of release, hating when he did that to you.

“C’mere,” Karl sat back again, beckoning you over with two fingers. You slid off the chair, feeling your legs slightly tremble from the position you were in. You saw he had undone his pants, his cock resting up against his abdomen, throbbing and aching with pure need.

“Did that feel good?” You nodded to his question, seeing him smirk and reach for the toy. “Yeah, I bet it did. As cute as you looked, I can’t have you finishing with just a toy. Turn around and take a seat.” He put aside his dying cigar and patted his lap, having you do what you were told.

You sat back against him, humming at the feeling of his warm cock against your entrance as your legs hooked around his, keeping you spread open. He removed his gloves before he guided himself in, emitting a heavy groan at just how soaked and easy you were to slip into, the stretch of him inside made you feel so deliciously full.

He gave a short thrust, chuckling at the small mew you let out. He brought the toy over to your clit, turning it back on to the setting it was on before. The return of it had you clenching around him instantly, a gasp and tremble of your hips following shortly after. The pleasure rejected from you before began to build up a lot quicker, your hands clutching onto his forearms as you rocked your hips, moaning at his cock filling you inside with the buzzing of the toy teasing your bud.

Karl was more content to sit still and watch you squirm in his lap, letting out a low hum or two every minute or so from the way your walls fluttered around him, squeezing him constantly, making you feel even tighter. His free hand rested along your abdomen, feeling your insides squeezing him harder, making him push against your almost unforgiving squeezes as he held you close to his form, the sounds you were making filling his ears as you relaxed your head against his right shoulder.

As a surprise, he set the toy to the highest setting. The intense buzzing hit you like his metal hammer hitting solid ground, your back arching as your orgasm ruptured through your entire body, a loud raspy cry leaving your lips.

Your whole body tensed up, thighs trembling so hard they had almost closed. Your loud cry was halted as the warm euphoria shot through your body, bathing you with its fire and drowning you without mercy.

Karl’s chest rumbled at the sight of you, feeling your sweet juices soak his entire cock. Your pussy convulsed around him as your fingers dug so deep into his arms he could almost feel your nails through the fabrics. Something made you gasp loud in shock, which caught him off guard as he saw you lift your head to see something splattering against the ruined rug floor.

Something caught his attention from between your legs, noticing that their was a liquid covering his hand, holding onto the now drenched toy. Peering over a little more, his gaze traveling towards the direction from where it had came from.

Your hand was covering your mouth, eyes wide in the shock of what you just done. You almost didn’t notice it, but now you really really wished you hadn’t.

His laughter boomed through the entire church room, the man sitting up as he set the toy aside. “Haha! Mmm!” Both arms wrapped around your waist, keeping himself inside as he hugged you secure to his torso.

“Well! Mhm, meine dreckige kleine hure,” He chuckled deeply against the skin of your neck before peppering the area with frantic kisses.

You were too embarrassed to even question what he said, both your hands moving over to cover your face from view. What the fuck did I just do?? And why the fuck did it happen???

“Aww, what’s wrong kitten?” He cooed, smirking at your sudden shyness and silence. “You shocked that my own invention worked so well?”

“Mmm!” You turned your head away, hearing him laugh some more as his hands rubbed along your thighs, feeling your trembling muscles still recovering.

“What? Theirs nothing wrong with what happened kitten. Nothing wrong at all,” He tried to soothe as his hands ran along your hips, his rough fingers gently rubbing your stretched folds and pressing down on your sensitive nub. “In fact, it just makes me want to eat you up even more. So don’t be shy kitten, making a mess just means we’re having a good time, aren’t we?”

He rocked himself inside you, making you clench and whimper as his cock throbbed against your sweet. He brought your head back to his shoulder, the man looking into your eyes as he saw just how flushed you were from the mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

“Didn't it feel good?” He whispered, bringing up his fingers for you to see how wet they were all coated in your honey. “I barely even touched you, and you’re so dripping. You have any idea how wet my cock feels? All because of you darling?”

You looked into his eyes, feeling your core start to spasm to life again as you saw how wet his fingers were, along with another throb of his cock. He brought his fingers to your lips, watching you accept them and lick them clean. His hand held onto your hip and moved you slowly, making you moan on his fingers.

“Hmm, god you’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, putting his fingers into your mouth up to his knuckles before removing them. His wet fingers pinched at your nipples, making you whine as he continued to grind you against him.

“Get over here,” He let go of you and patted to the open seating area beside him, “On your knees, now.”

You didn’t want to leave this comfortable position, unable to help yourself as a small whine left the back of your throat. After an orgasm like that, despite the embarrassment, your body felt warm and comfortable despite the chilly church room. A thought popped up in the back of your head, making your lips curl at the silly idea of it.

“Make me,” You muttered.

“Pardon?”

“I said Make. Me.” You glanced into his eyes again, your smirk highly present on your face. “Daddy.”

Oh.

He chuckled lowly, both of his hands clutching your hips, lifting you off of his dick. He maneuvered your body until you were on your knees, your cheek pressed up against the smooth wood of the pew.

“Ohh kitten,” He muttered handsomely, his fingers kneading the warm flesh of your ass. “You have no idea what that’s gonna bring for you.” He leaned closer to your lower half, fingers spreading your pussy open before shoving his tongue inside, lapping up at all of your sweetness. You whined some more from the roughness of his tongue, fingers clutching onto the edge of the seat as his tongue flicked over your nub multiple times.

“I should be mad at you, you wasted a perfectly good meal for me.” He gave one final lick before getting ahold of your other hand, placing the toy in your grasp before pressing it up against your clit.

“Keep it there, and don’t move it anywhere else. I’m not gonna stop until you give me another mess to clean up.” Karl pushed himself back inside with a groan, the toy buzzing to life at the highest setting, making you gasp and arch your back again. Your moans and cries were loud at first, but with the large holes in the ceilings you started to fear that people would hear. You tried to cover your mouth a bit and hold back, but Karl wasn’t happy at the action.

He slapped your ass hard, making you wince and cry out a little bit. He repeated three times on the same spot, massaging the tender flesh in his hand while his other hand grabbed your hair, giving a not so innocent tug.

“Don’t you dare hold those noises back kitten, I want you to scream so loud it’ll sound like a church choir in here!” His thrusts only got harder, the wet skin against skin slaps quickly muffled out by your loud cries.

His pace quickly grew vigorous, the harsh buzzing of the toy making you buck your hips against him repeatedly. You came again with an amplified burn, euphoria blinding you for a moment as another loud cry left your lips. Your fingers struggled to hold onto the toy, the quick sting of overstimulation rattling your body.

Karl relished in everything, groaning from the clenching and the way your body moved, arching your back just like a cat would. Your moans leaned towards louder whines, slowly moving away the toy when it got to be too much.

"Aww, what's wrong?" Karl asked, bringing his hand over to raise your form up, pressing you back against his. He stopped his brutal thrusts, settling for grinding against your ass while he brought the toy back against your core, grunting when he felt the vibrations himself.

"My cock getting to be too much for my little slut? Hm? Or is this toy too harsh on your pretty pussy? Tell me."

"Mm!" You started to speak up, forcing your lethargic mind to think of proper words to use. "F-fuck! The toy-" You cut off with another loud moan, feeling him press it even harder against you, the vibrations abusing your nub so much you felt another orgasm quickly follow.

"What's it gonna be kitten? You wanna finish on this toy, or you wanna finish on Daddy's cock?"

"You Daddy, please!" You held onto his arms for dear life, hearing him chuckle against your neck before placing a wet kiss on your skin. He turned off the toy, setting it aside before gripping your hips with a bruising grip, fucking you hard again until you came another time.

He growled against your neck, his lips tasting the saltiness of your sweat. He rocked into you more slowly, but not stopping until you rode out another mind shattering orgasm. One of your hands went behind his head, keeping him close as he panted against your skin. You relaxed slowly, letting out heavily drawn pants that mellowed into soft exhales, feeling his hands roam under your shirt to caress your breasts.

"Fuck Karl," You exhaled, closing your eyes for a moment. Karl tugged off your jacket, resting you back on the pew. You watched him, watching the man maneuver himself until his face was inches away from yours, his eyes hungry with a primal need. In the faint darkness blanketing the room as evening shifted into night, it looked as if his eyes were glowing like fireflies. He smiled at you, showing you that unique handsomeness you've grown to love looking at.

The loud buzzing rang in your ears, the harsh sensation of the toy pressing along your sore entrance making you gasp and wince. Your overstimulated, drenched core throbbed with the feeling, forcing you to grab onto Karl's arms as a long broken moan left you. He chuckled, looking down to watch as he pushed the toy against your entrance, parting you open with the help of his knee, watching your ever so hungry pussy invite it in. Feeling the vibrations inside was slightly different, making you whimper a lot louder as he moved it agonizingly slow, making you feel it along your fluttering walls.

He hummed, moving himself to be closer to your core and wrap his lips around your clit, chuckling as he felt your nub buzz along his tongue.

"K-Karl!" You cried out his name, your hips slightly lifting as the sensations started getting too overwhelming. Your body felt burning with pain and pleasure, your nerves too overworked to bring out another release. "P-please, I can't-"

He growled in irritation of you trying to move away, his arm wrapping around your thigh to yank you back, keeping you secure against his mouth. He assaulted your core once more with his tongue and toy, leaving you to repeatedly cry out his name to the broken ceilings, crying out faster as you felt close to your orgasm that you've lost count of.

The band snapped, your nerves roaring in the wave of pleasure that overtook your other senses, making you tremble and scream out. Your hands clutched onto the pew for dear life, bringing your head back against the surface of the pew, your back arching almost every few moments. You heard a loud, uproarious muffled roar from Karl, the man clutching your hips closer as he sucked at your gushing core, taking all of your juices in his mouth, swallowing every single drop. You laid still, tired whines leaving your mouth as he nursed on your swollen, abused clit.

He planted kisses along your stomach and up your chest, leaving wet kisses until your lips met his, finding them very wet and tasting of you. He pulled out the toy, the vibrations stopping when it left your sore caverns. He broke the kiss and brought the tip of the toy along your bottom lip, watching you open and lick along the warm surface.

"You did so good for me Kitten," He praised in a low tone, meeting your gaze as you sucked on the tip momentarily before letting it go. "Daddy wasn't too rough, was he?"

"Oh no," You smiled a little, bringing your head back to relax for another moment. "Daddy was just the usual."

"Which is?"

"Figure it out," You giggled a little, running your arms along your chest slowly. "Didn't think you'd like me calling you that."

"Much better than dog," He sat up, putting the toy aside before standing. "Get up."

"Hm?" You looked up at him, your eyes immediately attracting to his cock, coated with your juices and dripping with precum.

"I need kitten to help her daddy, but you need to lose the shirt." You sat up and pulled off the garment, your hand going over to hold his warm length. You brushed the clear beads along the head, giggling a little when it throbbed from the contact.

"Get closer," Karl ushered, having you move your sore hips until you sat at the very edge of the pew. His hand found your right breast first, kneading it before giving the same treatment towards the other.

"You looked gorgeous this morning, Everything you wear just has me so tempted to rip it all off and fuck these tits." He pinched your nipple and gave your breast a small slap, making you wince and giggle. Your lightly buzzed mind and afterglow state left you feeling cozy, tired yet relaxed, thinking about what he meant. You knew those low cut dresses did something to him.

"Daddy wanna try it?" You offered, slowly cupping your own breasts in your hands. "It's your turn to get messy."

Karl chuckled, stepping closer until the head of his cock brushed between your mounds. You nestled his cock between your breasts, humming at how warm it felt along your skin. A low rumble left his throat, watching how you squeezed yourself together, your plush breasts almost enveloping his entire cock. He moved his hips real slow, leaving you watch the head of his cock disappear between your mounds before reappearing. The slickness helped him glide along your skin so easily, creating a light squelching sound as he repeated the motions.

He sighed again, feeling himself getting close to his own end. He moved a bit faster, keeping one hold on your shoulder as he fucked your chest, all while you watched more beads of precum leak out and stain your skin. You even went as far as to stick your tongue out, feeling it brush along the head to lap up the saltiness.

He stilled against you, letting out a rich, heavy growl as he spilled all over your breasts, staining your skin with his milky seed. You watched with a soft moan, eyes frozen on the way every rope of cum pumped out from the tip. You squeezed yourself tighter around him, moving with his slow thrusts until he stopped, his cock throbbing against your chest.

"Mmm," Your fingers grazed along the small puddles, watching his seed drip down in between your breasts to trickle along his cock. Your fingers ran along the length, smearing as much of it along before you leaned closer, bringing his cock to your lips to lick up the mess. He hummed while watching your tongue run along the veins, tasting yourself and him mixed together. Your tongue reached the base and back towards the tip, feeling his hand come over to caress the back of your head.

The thrusted once into your mouth, hearing you gasp in surprise. His cock almost hit the back of your throat, chuckling when you moved your mouth away before you could gag.

“Mm!” You licked your lips, looking up at him with a frown. “Fuck Karl, you’re an asshole!”

“Oh really? I’m not the one who came all over the church floor.”

“Fuck you!”

“Heh, you better watch that mouth pup. I might still be a little hungry."

- - -

Taglist- Sorry the tags suck, but as long as you see your name on the list, I tried!

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Kinktober Day 21 - Overstimulation

osamu dazai x fem!reader 18+ warnings: overstimulation, praise, dumbification, multiple orgasms, mentions of death because it’s Dazai wc: 640

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When Adam bit the apple he did it because he trusted Eve. Because he loved her. Adam bit into the apple because the woman he loved told him to, no matter what God said. No matter the rules of heaven. What’s heaven to a woman’s love anyway? What’s God to your wife? The first sins of humanity, were trusting others. Eve trusted a snake, Adam trusted Eve, and I trust you. Maybe that’s a sin, just like the first couple. Maybe everyone’s right about us and we’re sinners and we offend God. But like I said, what’s God to a woman’s love anyway? What has heaven got that I can’t find sitting next to you on a cool autumn morning?

shoutout to all the people who read and consume nsfw instead of fluff because the intimacy of being loved gently is scarier than sex 🙏🏽

This might seem a little out of left-field, but I was thinking about the Obey Me Brothers and some of their… specific vices, and things got out of hand quickly. What can I say? I’m a sucker for lists, Yanderes, and the culmination of the two.

The Yandere!Demon Brothers’ Darkest Fantasies.

TW: Graphic Violence, (Imagined) Non-Con, Power-Play, Master/Servant Dynamics, Dub-Con, Mentions of Masturbation, Mentions of Blood/Bruising, and General Unhealthy Mindsets All Around. 

~

Lucifer wants you to bow to him.

Out of everyone on the list, he does the least to hide his fantasies, regardless of how depraved or dubious or down-right disgusting they get. Why would he? There are only a handful of people stronger than him, more capable than him, and when it’s so clear that you’re so weak and feeble and in such desperate need of guidance, he hardly feels the need to wait for you to ask. It borders on pet-play, honestly, if only because he’s so quick to pull out a collar the first time you puff out your cheeks and refuse to get on your knees when he was nice enough to order around you politely.

It’s all about control for him, or rather, the reassurance that he’s the one who has it. The knowledge that he’s the strongest, the most responsible, and that he deserves to be in charge, even if things tend to get bloody under his command. He’ll make you say such awful things, telling you exactly what he wants to hear as the heel of his boot digs into your bare spine, keeping your chest pressed against the floor while you sing his praises and drag your own name through the mud, confessing every rash, irresponsible thing you’ve ever done in an effort to distract him from the whip that never seems to leave his hand. He knows what it’s like to be treated as something holy, what it’s like to be revered rather than feared, and he doesn’t want to stop pushing until you look at him with the same admiration, the same unadulterated love he used to be showered in.

And if you don’t, if you won’t, he’ll be happy to break you down until you don’t have another choice. Obedience is a close second to reverence, and Lucifer has enough toys to make either a viable option.

Mammon wants to keep you to himself.

It’s a natural progression, honestly. He’s your first, he’s your man, and you’re his human, his responsibility, the most useless treasure in his collection and the only one that truly, genuinely matters to him. For now, he can wrap an arm around your waist, narrow his eyes and keep any potential rivals at a distance, but he can’t do anything to keep away his own brothers. Baring his teeth and sharpening his claws feels childish when all you do is smile and tell him not to be so jealous. Everything he does feels pointless when you can just laugh and run off with the first person to pull you away from him. You make it pointless. You are pointless, you should just be lucky he wants you anyway.

It’d be so simple, too, so easy to just close the door to his room and not open it again, not until you’re chained to something too tight to slip out of. No one would be able to get their hands on you, no one would be able to take you away, it’d just be you and him and no one else, not if he can help it. You’d be his to ruin, his to care for, his to dote on or discipline or do whatever he pleases to, whenever he wants to. It’d be heaven for him, and… it wouldn’t be, for you.

That’s part of the fantasy, and he hates it. He doesn’t want to be cruel to you, he doesn’t want to see you cry because of him, and yet, all he wants to do is polish his newest addition until it’s as shiny and as his as the rest of his hoard. He wants not to care when you cry, he wants to look down at your shaking body and he wants to laugh, to sneer, to tell you that this is your fault and you have no one to blame but yourself. Maybe he wants to be more apathetic, maybe he just wants to stop being so hesitant, but what he wants seems to be less important than what he’s starting to need. If the number of ‘packages’ he’s been getting is any indication, I wouldn’t count on his reluctance lasting for much longer.

Leviathan wants you to make him cry.

He’s not a masochist. Or, he is a masochist, but not in the way you’d assume. Leviathan doesn’t bother pretending to be confident. He doesn’t act like he has all the self-esteem in the world, and he doesn’t try to hide his (admittedly poor) view of his lifestyle. That might be why he loses his composure whenever you compliment him, why he stutters and blushes and gets so awkward when you try to tell him that you like the way he is, that you love him for it. That you don’t mind.

It’s an awful, unhealthy part of himself that wants you to say otherwise. To contradict yourself, to smirk and shove him onto your bed and say you couldn’t find him more disgusting, that you’ve never known someone so pathetic. Maybe it’s just a depraved daydream, a desire to have his worst fears proven right by the person he loves most, or maybe, he just likes the image of you riding him into overstimulation as you make him thank you for taking pity on someone so hopeless, maybe he just likes to imagine the feeling of your hands around his neck, your grip tightening every time his gaze falls lower than your eyes. He has a whole list of names for you to call him, insults ranging from ‘pervert’ to ‘drain on society’, but he’d never tell that to you. No, he can barely bring himself to think about this kind of stuff, let alone say any of it outloud.

All he can do is let his touch wander whenever he hugs you, let his fingers brush against things they shouldn’t and leave them to linger for far too long for his actions to be taken as an innocent mistake. He isn’t sure whether he’s trying to push you to hate him, trying to really make his fantasy into a reality, or if he just wants you to get the message that he wants something more intimate, something more violent. Either way, he’s started leaving his door unlocked when his mind begins to wander. Open, sometimes, if it’s just the two of you home. Just hope your room isn’t too close to his. He tends to get… explicit, when he’s feeling passionate.

Satan wants to show everyone who you belong to.

His fantasy is one of the most depraved, if only because it barely has anything to do with you. No, it’d only be fitting for the Avatar of Wrath’s favorite daydream to be centered around something more possessive, something more domineering, something totally and utterly separate from the person he loves. You’re not replaceable, it has to be you for him to care to put in the effort, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to check whether or not you’re enjoying yourself when he bends you over the dining room table in the middle of breakfast, for no other reason than Asmodeus commented on your outfit and Beelzebub offered to carry your bag and neither of them should be doing so much as looking at you when he’s right there, when it’s so clear that you belong to someone and that he doesn’t want to share.

On the outside, his self-control is as impeccable as always, but he’d be lying if said his hand didn’t twitch every time Mammon stood a little too close, every time Leviathan scraped up the courage to talk to you. He’s so strong, too, and you’re so, so weak, it wouldn’t even be a fair fight. He could cage you against a bookshelf or throw you onto a countertop and what would you do? Try to push him away? Scream for help? An audience is what he wants, what he craves, a crowd of anyone and everyone who’s ever touched you to watch as you beg for him to stop and moan his name and cry as you cum, even if he has to get a little messier than he’d like, for that. Risky sex might come close to scratching his itch, but the risk of being caught and making a show of something so private are two different vices entirely. You’ll be lucky if it does anything but make him bolder, more blatant with his plans. He takes after Lucifer, in that regard. He doesn’t know why he’d try to hide it.

As far as he’s concerned, he owns you, and you’ve only got yourself to blame if you haven’t realized that yet. It’s only fair that he gets to mark what’s his, as plainly and as publicly as possible.

Asmodeus wants you to say ‘no’ to him.

Do I really have to say anything else? He’s so tired of seduction, so sick of glazed eyes and glossy lips and people so intoxicated by his presence, they’re practically tripping over themselves just to feel the heels of his boots press into their backs as he walks over them. It’s not that he wants a chase, he’s always been a pacifist at heart, and he’d rather not have to resort to any unsavory means, he’s just bored and feed-up and he wants something new, even if it’s only fun for him.

It doesn’t help that he’s terrible at holding himself back. He’s good at hiding his true feelings (he’s already so touchy, it gets hard to tell what’s innocent and what’s not), but it’s impossible not to notice how fond he’s become of admiring your wrists, buying you bracelets so thick and so heavy, you can hardly hold them up. You can’t ignore it when he takes a moment too long to pull away when you tell him you want space, or just how hesitant he seems to let you go after ‘playfully’ pinning you to his bed. He wants to keep going. He wants to see the light drain from your eyes as you realize he’s not going to stop, to feel you writhe and struggle and try to get away, to hear you scream your safeword and to ignore it, to not care than you don’t want him. He doesn’t want to make you suffer, not any more than he has to, but his heart never fails to beat a little faster when he pictures it, and he gets more excited than he’s been in centuries by the thought alone.

If anything, you should feel honored. It’s been so long since he wanted something so specific, someone so specific, he almost forgot what it was like to lust for rather than be lusted after. I’d say he’s unprepared for it, but Asmodeus is hard to catch off-guard, and this just so happens to be his area of expertise. He has a way of getting what he wants, even if he has to make things a little difficult for everyone else.

Beelzebub wants to see how far you bend.

You really can’t blame him for being curious. It’s more of an intrusive thought than a fantasy, something he can’t help but think about, not once he realizes how strong he is and how resilient you aren’t. And, unlike the others, his fantasy has a specific catalyst, a real, substantial reason for its existence. He’d just been holding your hand, his grip still bordering on loose, but your fingers had cracked under his like glass under a bulldozer. It was just a sprain, something Simeon had healed with a contemplative glance and a flick of his wrist, but it stuck with Beelzebub. It stuck with him and god, he wishes it hadn’t.

He can’t help the places his mind wanders to. He can’t stop himself, not once he starts wondering what it’d be like if he was just a little bit bigger and you were just a little bit smaller and he cared a lot less about hurting you than he does, in reality. You’d be so tight, warm and welcoming and so easily broken if he does so much as breaths on you the wrong way, and you’d look so pretty afterward, too sore to move without his help and absolutely covered in bruises and bitemarks he didn’t even have to try to leave.

The aftercare is the only part he doesn’t mind wanting. At least it’s softer than the rest of it, full of kisses and snacks and touches so light, he can almost pretend he hadn’t just imagined fucking you until your ribs caved in under his palms. He’s mapped out every ugly, tender mark he’d leave, every place you’d ache and throb, every minute of your recovery - every second it’d take you to get well enough for him to do it all over again. Maybe he’ll even call in a favor, bow his head and swallow his shame for just long enough to have someone who’s got a hand for healing on stand-by so he wouldn’t have to wait, but he never lets his mind drift that far. He’s too busy trying to convince himself he still doesn’t want to hurt you.

Belphegor wants to take advantage of your trust.

Unlike his twin, Belphegor wishes he just wants to hurt you. Pain is simple, or, physical pain is simple, anyway. He could tell himself it’s because you’re human, that hating you is just an old habit he hasn’t kicked. He’d pinch your cheeks and pull at your hair and he’d try to be satisfied with that, he’d tell himself he doesn’t want anything more. He’d be lying to himself, of course, but it’d still be an honest effort. Unfortunately, what he wants isn’t that clear-cut. It isn’t that shallow, and that’s why he has to hate himself for it.

Maybe it arose the first time you fell asleep before him, when you were so vulnerable and exposed and so helpless he had to wonder whether or not you had a deathwish. Or how at-peace you seem during his rare shows of affection, as if the talons tracing patterns into your skin couldn’t easily dig in and pull at the slightest hint of a threat. You’re so comfortable around him, so careless, you need to be taught a lesson and he needs to teach it to you. On good days, it’s almost innocent. Groping you while you’re only half-awake, letting his hand trail up your thigh during a council meeting because he knows you’re too nice to say anything. On bad days, on most days, he’s fucking his fist to the thought of holding you down while someone you like much less than him does something vile to your anatomy, only offering the barest hints of comfort when your crying gets loud enough to be annoying.

You trust him, and the worst part is, you’ll probably still trust him when he’s done. He’s been forgiven for worse, and that’s what gets him off, the idea that you’ll still look at him like the closest friend you’ve ever had the moment he averts his eyes and offers a half-hearted apology, saying he’s grown, that he just had to get it out of his system, that he won’t do it again even though he absolutely, definitely will. And you’ll believe him, because somehow, you still trust him. Because you’re always going to trust him.

Because he’s prepared to bleed you dry until you don’t know how to do anything but trust him, anymore.

Mr. Compress: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers!

Shigaraki: Please, just say fuck.

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

I'm always in the mood for Enji too 🥴

18+ like ways

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

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

Heya! Could you write a little something about f! reader getting a massage from Dutch? It can get nsfw if you feel up to it :D Thanks if you decide to do this 😊🤍

send me a smutty rdr2 request!

a/n: @woman-with-no-name might fuck around and write a sequel to this (i'm already in the middle of writing a sequel to this), so let me know if you want to be tagged in that too <3. also, i am very much aware of the irony of this being a dutch fic and the title being a line from a song named 'no plan'.

rating: teen and up for vague descriptions of being horny and heavy suggestiveness, but nothing explicit.

warnings: sowing needles, dutch being bad at flirting, slight power imbalance, vague descriptions of getting shot.

Thrilled By The Still Of Your Hand – Part 1 (1.7k words)

The needle moves as if it has a mind of its own. In fact, it kind of does.

You've been mending clothes for hours now, hands working on their own volition, confident in their movements after years of doing the exact same menial task, as you stare at the shirt you're repairing as if transfixed.

In truth, your mind is blank, exhaustion permeating every part of your being, muscles sore and tender from the heavy workload you've taken onto your shoulders.

It's all thanks to Williamson. Because of course it is.

The asshole had fucked up so bad that you had to move camps once again, leaving behind a sizeable amount of potential stolen goods and money, and thrusting more work onto the shoulders of everyone in the gang; Especially you and the other women.

What you wouldn't give for just a few minutes of peace and quiet and stillness.

A voice, deep and rough, halts your fingers. It lashes at you like a whip, in spite of the pleasant tone, the peace and quiet disturbed – a rock thrown into still water.

"Ah, hello, miss."

Your start, feel the pinprick of your needle before you see it, thin metal sliding through the flesh of your forefinger. It hasn't just breached your skin though; It's sunk into your finger so almost a fifth of the needle is embedded in you, and there's a slow trickle of blood emitting from the prick when you pull it out, all gentle and careful. The quiet rush of scarlet glides over your skin and you watch in tired defeat as it drips onto the white fabric you've been working on for the better part of half an hour.

Great. More work.

"Mr. Van der Linde," you reply, polite but short-handed, too fatigued to make real conversation, and cast him a sidelong glance.

He's looking as impeccable as ever, well put-together and handsome, his white sleeves rolled up above his elbows, revealing long expanses of sun-kissed skin and the dark hair strewn across his forearms. You wonder, as impulsive and brief as the thought is, what he would look like all disheveled and raw – what he would look like if he worked even half as much as you or miss Grimshaw or even Abigail, heavily pregnant as she is.

He's got a cigar curled between his fingers, a faint shroud of smoke floating in the air, curling around his head and throat with the familiarity of the gentle caress of a lover.

You press your bleeding finger past your lips and place it on your tongue. Its warmth and wetness soothe the sting, the metallic tang of blood spreading in your mouth.

"It's Dutch," he says, but it's strained, twisted – a mockery of the gentle cheeriness in his voice just moments before, and you turn yourself to face him better, to get a proper look at him, only to falter and freeze, caught in the stare he gives you. His eyes are dark, jaw set tight, and you can do nothing to stop the quiet shiver flowing forth within you. "How are you doing on a fine day like this?"

You slide your finger out of your mouth. There's spit sticking to it, your stained skin glistening in the sun, and you wipe it off in your already grimy skirt.

You think you see Dutch following the motion, the dark irises of his eyes shifting around until they eventually land on your face, but you're not sure.

Probably just the fatigue getting to you.

However, you are certain that his grip on his cigar has tightened, a small dent in the tobacco visible even from where you're sitting.

"I'm fine, sir."

Dutch looks as if your voice has snapped him out of thought and he clears his throat, takes a drag.

"I've seen you working, much more than usual. You must be terribly sore."

"Oh, I guess I am. It's been a busy few days. You know how miss Grimshaw gets."

Dutch chuckles, a low, rumbling thing that sends tingles down your spine. "I sure do."

He watches you for a moment, gaze searching in a way you're unused to, feel a scarlet flush rising in your cheeks. You avert your eyes, and focus on the needle and thread going in and out of the fabric instead.

Then, there are hands on your upper arms. Though you thought it impossible, you grow tenser, shoulders rising, breath catching in your throat. That is, until those hands – those big, warm hands – start making a path up and down your upper arms, soothing in a way that has the tension crawling beneath your skin dissolving like sugar on a wet tongue.

When they come to rest where your shoulders meet your neck, fingers dig into tender muscles.

A moan brushes past your lips, faint and pitiful, but inevitable. You're aching, beneath it all, stressed and on edge after working yourself to the bone. Yes, it's somewhat miss Grimshaw's fault, but you wanted to help out as much as you could on your own accord too. She pushes you, but you're the one taking the leaps, damn near wrestling any and all heavy workloads out of Abigail's hands, even if she is only five months along.

It's like heaven, the way his hands move across the expanse of your back and work at the strain and stress contorting every part of your being, something strange yet tempting curling in your stomach when he delicately pulls at your sleeves, exposing the naked skin of your shoulders to the tepid weather.

"So tense."

Your mind, in that exact moment, catches up to what's going on, Dutch's voice much closer to your ear than before. Close enough to feel faint puffs of breath brush against the shell of your ear. He's moved behind you, rendering you unable to see him, your only point of contact being his strong hands on your shoulders. Your back. Your collarbones.

He's so soft-spoken, every word spoken with gentle charisma and sympathy, tongue curling around syllables in the most delectable way. And yet, he's so close that you can feel the vibrations in his chest when he speaks, giving his voice an air of menace – a predator soothing an unsuspecting prey.

"It has not escaped me, miss, that you've been working extra hard these past couple of days. Trying to make up for Mr. Williamson's blunder?"

Yes. That's exactly what you've been doing. Miss Grimshaw too. As much of a pain in the ass she is from time to time, you have to admit that she's only trying to do right by the gang, and you do your best to follow in her footsteps.

And you attempt to express this, say, "It's the least I can do,"

His laugh is a rumble. "Now you're just selling yourself short, my dear."

He tears another groan from you, thumbs digging into a particularly sore bundle of nerves in your shoulders. His fingers, deft as they are, grab onto and exterminate any point of stress or tenderness they can find, working over naked, pliable flesh, and you just sit there and take it, caught up in the wonderful relief of it all, eyelids fluttering close. Exhaustion takes over.

"I, too, have found myself in need of relief from all this stress, you know."

And you're wide awake.

You open your mouth to reply, to protest – assert that you never meant to imply otherwise and that you're grateful for everything he's done and does for the gang; For you. However, as your lips part, the words get stuck on your tongue, breath hitching at the exact same time your stomach swoops.

Dutch rests a hand on your throat.

It's a heavy thing, his rings cold against your flushed skin, fingers curled just enough to apply a gentle, yet unyielding pressure against your larynx, his skin coarse against yours. Your heart picks up speed, fluttering in your chest with the speed of hummingbird wings, and you know he can feel it because his thumb rests on your pulse point, pressing down slightly

"You know, there are other more pleasurable ways of helping you relax. Really relax. Take your mind off of things."

You were shot once. In the gut. You remember so vividly the suddenness of the wound, the swell of equal parts warmth and mind-numbing pain in your abdomen. It rendered you lost and helpless – as if you were drowning – in the middle of a shoot-out, vision blurry, like you were watching everything through a window while it's raining. The only thing you could focus on through it all was the warm hands on you – the dash of bright scarlet by your side.

It feels like déjà vu.

Except now, along with the warmth in your gut and feeling of helplessness seeping into your skin, bone-deep, there's a throbbing. Lower than your gut. Between your legs. And coursing through your veins is something gushing and fiery and impossible to rule.

He moves further up, cups your jaw, fingers digging into bone. There is pain there, but it pulses along with pleasure. He could crack your jaw if he wanted to.

A part of you – a foreign part you did not know existed – would let him.

The tip of his thumb is on your lower lip, pulling down, barely dipping in. A brush of his fingertip over the dryness there has you releasing a shaky exhale. His touches are delicate but purposeful, akin to how an artist runs a paintbrush across his canvas. You cling to it, blooming beneath his caresses. They warm you like bright rays of sun from the inside out, flames licking beneath your skin in a way you've never experienced before.

"My tent is always open, dear." Breathless. Helpless. What can you do? "Come to me if you need anything. Anything at all."

He pats you on the cheek – his fingers like claws – and walks off as if nothing happened. As if he hasn't left you a blushing mess, heat curling and burning in the pit of your stomach, thighs rubbing together in a vain attempt to ease the pressure that's gathered at the crux of them, sensitive skin flush with goosebumps.

The promise in his voice, carefully wrapped in pretty words and resolute touches, is delectable and lascivious and terrifying all at the same time.

You carry on with your work. It's all you can do. Except, now, your mind is everything but blank.

God I'm a sucker for characters who are so utterly loyal to someone that they're completely unhinged. Characters who have no moral compass except their overwhelming devotion to whoever they've chosen to listen to. That's the good shit

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.

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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.”