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oh-katsuki · 2 years

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surprise! this is as much @strafepanzer’s fault as it is mine okay? she’s an enabler.

tw: fem!reader, dark content, stepcest, perverted behavior, dacryphilia, dubcon (no clear consent but it is not unwanted), fingering, reader cums twice and it’s kind of overstimulation but not really, i use the term “sister-cunt” but they are not biologically related, also this is 2.4k words.

your stepbrother is... odd. he’s tall and lanky with big eyes that curve heavily into the back of his skull with a thick crease above them that lines his eyes in dark contour. he’s got eyes that see everything. eyes that see through clothes. eyes that catch every little glance and every squeeze of your thighs. tendou satori, your stepbrother, is an odd ball through and through.

you notice his oddities immediately. they’re in his gait, in the way he slouches when he stands, in the way he watches without saying anything as you prance about the house. you think he’s strange but there’s something attractive in his strangeness. it’s taboo but you think that if he weren’t your stepbrother, you’d like him.

tendou notices everything. he notices your moods, the way you squeeze your thighs together when he drags out a syllable, the response your body has to the rich tenor tone of his voice. you’re appreciative of it... most of the time because it means he knows when you need silence and when you need that sly familiar grin and cadence of his voice. but it also means there’s no hiding anything from him. he just... knows.

you dismiss his oddities in favor of keeping the peace. you don’t dwell too much... that is... until you can’t ignore it anymore. until he starts getting closer, lingering in the kitchen, watching you in your pajamas. you can feel his eyes on you, the way they trail your figure, undressing you in a discreet, satori-like way.

he is looking. it’s not like satori can help it. you’re pretty and proper. an almost-right big-sister type, even if you and him are the same age. but there’s something innocent in your actions. you fluster easily, catching your fingers in front of you when you are as if to consciously keep yourself from falling apart. it’s sweet.

you’re showering, scrubbing your body with nimble hands, working over the knots in your shoulders with soaped-up fingers. the door opens and you turn to look, eyes wide, hands flying up and then in front of you to protect the little decency you have. tendou is standing there, the doorknob still in his hand and he looks at you. it’s an accident but he lingers for a moment before tilting his head with a small smile.

“sooorry...” he drags it out, his eyes flicking down and then up before he shuts the door. it clicks quietly in his wake.

it was an accident. well, sort of. tendou didn’t expect the door to be unlocked but he figured he’d try... for fun. besides, what he really wanted to ask you about was the shorts on your bed. a little number that you’d set out for after your shower. black with a stripe running up either side of your thighs. they’re comfortable, breathable. you like them. tendou likes them too.

when you step out of the shower, securing the small towel around your frame—your thigh peeking through the gap in it and the underside of your ass exposed to the cool air—and step into your bedroom, he’s sitting on your bed. the shorts dangle from one of his lanky fingers and he looks at you with an inquisitive little smile.

“were you gonna wear these around the house? they’re a little small don’t ya think, sis?” he smiles lightly.

the word sis has such a quality when it comes from his mouth. he knows it and you notice immediately, squeezing your thighs together before you stomp towards him and snatch the shorts from his finger with a huff. he raises his eyebrows, standing up from the bed and raising both of his hands up.

“heeyyyy,” he drones, his eyes half lidded as he starts to step out of the room, “i’m just looking out for you. i’m a man too, y’know.”

you stand for a moment with the shorts gripped in your fingers, unable to chase the image of them dangling from his finger, of the way sis rolled of his tongue so fucking nicely. you can’t help but get off to it that night. it was so hot. sure, that’s taboo but what he doesn’t know won’t kill him.

but satori does know. because he knows everything. he knows what he does to you. he knows the effect his voice has on you and he knows, when he steps up to your door that night, that that soft squelching sound is because of him. so you like it slow, huh?

you can’t find your vibrator so you have to make do with your fingers but satori knows where it is, tucked away in the back of his t-shirt drawer. he also knows that you’re thinking about him calling you a slut while you shove your fingers in your tight sister-cunt.

you make those little shorts your favorite pair. when you wear them, you decide not to wear panties. they always end up in odd places anyway and these shorts feel so nice. they’re breathable, you’re comfortable in them.

tendou can see the way your pussy stick to them though. they draw a dull, rounded line up your slit, collecting so that he can see the outline of you. no pretty panties in the way, just your sticky cunt against the fabric.

he ogles you when you reach for things in the higher cupboards, his arm thrown over the back of the couch. his feet are propped up and his head is tilted while he peers and the plump curve of the underside of your ass. and you know he’s doing it but you don’t say anything. you want it. you want him to look at you.

finally, he decides to do something about it.

“hey, come over here.” he calls from the couch, using one finger to beckon you closer. his voice is light and airy, a rich tenor drone with an inquisitive lilt.

you listen, stepping towards him with a raised eyebrow, waiting expectantly for what he wants.

tendou presses his lips together before licking them. “remember what i said about those shorts being too small?” he raises an eyebrow, his voice half between a chuckle and a question. “you think they’s small enough, sis?”

he drags out the last syllable. it hangs onto his tongue like it doesn’t want to leave his mouth and you raise an eyebrow, trying to hide the appeal. you’re trying to hide your arousal, shifting your weight to one hip.

“huh?” you say. it’s dumb. you sound stupid, but it’s all you can manage through your assumption of what he meant.

tendou gives you a small laugh, “come sit.”

you sit beside him on the couch and he gives a little laugh. it’s not malicious. it’s in the same light-hearted way he speaks most of the time and he slinks his eyes across his lower waterline to look at you.

“awww, now you know that’s not what i meant.”

soon enough, he’s got you in his lap, straddling either side of his thighs. tendou watches you, taking his hand and sliding a knuckle down your chest and stomach. it’s slow, dragging along your stomach until he moves his hand to cup your cunt over your shorts

you gasp lightly and tendou looks at you through his eyelashes, checking to make sure you want him like this. he stares for a moment before leaning forward by your neck. you can feel his breath. it’s warm against your skin, crawling down your shoulder and up to your ear.

“you’re not wearing any panties.” he breathes against you, moving his fingers back and forth across your clothed cunt.

you shiver, nodding slightly and he smiles, putting his lips to your neck. satori mouths at the skin there, licking and kissing on the spots that make you gasp. he won’t leave any marks though. he wouldn’t want your daddy finding out. that would ruin all the fun.

tendou moves his cupped hand back and forth across your cunt, listening to the way your breathing picks up with need. he can feel the contour of your pussy, the way you’re sticking to the inside of your shorts like glue. wetness gathers on his fingers through it and he keeps licking at you, tasting the salt on your skin.

then, he raises his hand slightly and slips it under the hem of your shorts, pulling them down in the fort a bit harshly to get easy access. satori slides two fingers through your slit. they collect the moisture between your legs, breaking the tension as you shiver in his lap. tendou sucks in a little breath through his teeth, pressing his fingers to your clit and rubbing gently in circles.

“woooaah... you’re excited,” he chides, maintaining that airy upward lilt to his voice.

you choke a little, trying to hide your embarrassment but he speaks again, bucking his hips up lightly so that you can feel the hard press of his cock against your inner thigh.

“that’s okay...” he drones softly, fingers moving in a slow circle around your clit. “i am too.”

tendou can’t have you getting too embarrassed and running off. he wants to enjoy this. he wants to make you feel good.

he slips one finger into your cunt. it goes in easy. you’re all wet for him, practically dripping into your slutty little shorts. you whine, letting your head fall back as you move your hand to his wrist. he curls his finger forward once and you feel the tendons in his wrist flex with the movement.

his finger is so long. it rubs that spongey spot inside of you easily. he massages over it a few times, seeing how you react and rolling his head forward on his shoulders.

“sensitive girl...” he mumbles under his breath, his finger curling slowly into you until he slips another in.

you feel the stretch this time, screwing your eyes shut, and tendou’s head shoots up so that he can watch your reaction. he keeps his eyes trained on you as he scissors you open with his fingers. nice and slow. he wants to stretch you out so that he can finger fuck you proper. so that you can feel good.

when he finally does curl his fingers, the feeling floods through you like electricity and you arch your back in response. he moves them back and forth inside of you slowly, just feeling the way your insides move against his fingers. he soaks in your warmth while you begin to crumble.

you’ve got your arms on his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin through the fabric of his soft cotton t-shirt. he waits until you’re moving your hips with him to pick up the pace. he listens to the cues your body gives that you need more, though the way you’re dripping between your thighs is indication enough.

it’s cute, the way you’re trying to keep quiet. you gasp and squeak softly when he hits a good spot, hips gyrating with the movement of his fingers. you’re worried about daddy coming home and catching you. but tendou’s not. he’s certain he can make you cum long before your—his now—old-man gets home. in fact, he thinks he could have you all fucked out with how sensitive you are if he decided to. tendou knows how to make girls cum. he’s good at it. he’s got long lithe fingers that reach farther than yours could ever hope to.

“feels good?” he asks in a low voice. it’s inquisitive, waiting for a proper answer while he looks up through his lashes, still keeping that same steady and slow pace he heard through your bedroom door.

“y-yeah,” you breathe, choking on your own tongue, “so good.”

tendou gives a pleasant hum and then moves the fabric of your shirt with his nose before biting down on your collarbone. you can feel his incisors. they’re a bit sharp, pressing harshly against the skin. you whimper, taking a deep breath while he works you up nice and slow.

he works you up until your eyes are teary, breath coming quick and airy between little squeaks of your sweet voice.

tendou looks up at you and tilts his head slightly. he’s watching the way you look between the two of you, your brows knit together in concentration and your eyes glassed over.

“getting close, right?” he asks, but it’s not so much of a question as it is a statement. tendou knows you’re getting close. he can feel the way you pulse around his fingers with every curl of his finger.

you nod, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against your shoulders.

“thaaaat’s right... yeah, you are.”

you whimper, heat pooling and swirling in your lower stomach. you feel the head rush coming on, the way it clouds your mind as pleasure takes over your body. he picks up the pace again and you choke. he does it slowly so that you can keep your rhythm. you whine, moving your hips faster with him now, desperate as you feel the wave in the pit of your stomach begin to crest.

it swells in you and tendou smiles. it’s all for his pretty new sister. all to make you feel good.

you drip down his knuckles as you climb closer. heat pooling across your cheeks as you climb and climb. then, you swell and crash.

you cum hard on his fingers and he keeps the same pace through it. you bury your face in his neck, trembling at the overwhelming feeling. your voice comes loud, a whine and then a choking sound into his shoulder as you hold your hands secure around his neck. the tears come with the orgasm. it’s intense and they swell on your waterline and then pour over in soft drops.

“that’s it, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it. come on. cum, cum, cum, cum, cum.” he coaxes you through it with an eager voice.

you can hear the squelching sound between you and you let out a low, sobbing groan as you ride it out. the sound of your arousal is loud and rings in your ears with a sick slapping sound his palm makes as it comes into contact with your clit.

towards the end of your orgasm, he picks up the pace, drawing it out further. he prolongs your pleasure just long enough for you to crest and come again, body shaking as he slows the pace to a gentle curl until he comes to a stop.

he leaves them there for a moment, feeling the way your soaking sister-cunt pulses around him in even thumps until it slows to an occasional pump. then, he slides them from your cunt easily.

you stare down for a moment, breathing heavily with your forehead on his shoulder and tendou tilts his head down to look at you. his eyes are low-lidded, that heavy crease seeming to add to the way they seem sleepy and half closed. against your right thigh, you can feel the wet spot from the mess he’s made of himself, but he maintains his composure.

then, tendou leans forward quickly and licks the tears from your jaw to your cheek with a flat tongue. you pull your head up, looking at him through glassy eyes. his lips quirk up a little in the corners with that small, cheshire cat grin. it’s even more cunning through the blush across his cheeks.

then, tendou leans forward and places his first, chaste kiss to your lips. it’s salty.

#tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #tendou x reader smut #tendou smut #tendou satori smut #ANYYYWAYYY #I WROTE THIS AT LIKE 3:30 IN THE MORNING LOL #I LOVE HIM SOOOO BAD I WANT HIM #tw: dark content #tw: dacryphilia #tw: dubcon #<- just in case #[ 📕 – writing ]#BYEEEEE #tendou drabble #tw.stepcest

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 1 year

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Lamy can you pretty please write about a yandere Villain or Supervillain or Superhero or Vigilante with a Hero darling?

Don't worry about when you get to this, it's just for fun! It's what I'm hooked on right now :)

My nemesis has presented me with a challenge, and like all great villains, I have tried to be up to the test. Anyyywayyy, tysmm for this ask, Huffle!💙💙 I chose yandere!Supervillain with a hero darling. I hope it is to your liking. Love uuuu!

Poisoned Honey

TW: Abusive relationship, yandere supervillain, blood, injury, drugging, touch-starvation

Notes: This is a lil long, 1.8 k words, so the story is under the cut!

Hero wishes they could move. Run. But, they can't even get up, can't even support their own weight. Their breathing is ragged as they let painful wheezes escape their dry throat, their few fractured ribs straining with the effort. Blood seeps from a gash in their side, hot and frustratingly slow, staining the floor a deep crimson.

They shut their eyes and wince, as a few tears stream down their cheeks. But it isn't from the pain. They've powered through much worse. They're tears of desperation because they know for a fact what they have to do to survive, a cold, hard truth written into a stone that would not weather. There were no hospitals near the old, barren gas station in an abandoned, almost dilapidated part of the city in which they'd taken refuge after Villain had dealt out the worst of their damage.

They scanned the room with their weary eyes, desperate for anything they could use as a makeshift bandage, finding no more than broken glass and old dust everywhere. Their communicator had been smashed under Villain's boot, so they can't even reach out to the hero agency. Some dark part of them contemplated letting their slowly dimming light completely fade away than to resort to their last option.

Supervillain. Ironically, they have healing powers along with others that possess the ability to destroy anything if they wished. A cruelly beautiful paradox. That sounds so much like something Supervillain would say in their silky-smooth, honey-sweet venom of a voice. The necklace around the crime-fighter's neck, one of the few things their nemesis hadn't sought out to destroy, could be used to call the supervillain if they rubbed the charm on it till it changed colour.

They would've destroyed the necklace, that shackle around their neck, but Supervillain would find out. They always found out.

Still hesitant, Hero's hand went up to the pendant, clutching it, but not quite rubbing yet.

When it first started out, whatever they had with Supervillain, it had felt like sweet-smelling flowers just starting to blossom at the start of a spring dream. That had slipped into a nightmare far too painfully fast.

Hero had always been quiet and reserved. They weren't cold or standoffish, but the other heroes just assumed they didn't want anyone to try and talk to them about anything that wasn't work. So, when Supervillain had fought with them for the first time, flashing them a radiant grin, complimenting everything about the hero, from their eyes, to their intelligence and carefully drawn out plans to their soft, flustered laugh. Hero had stayed awake all night, tossing and turning with a euphoria they couldn't comprehend.

Their fights turned into excuses to see each other, Supervillain's advances getting more and more bold, bringing Hero flowers and spoiling them with extravagant gifts and kisses pressed gently to their cheekbones. And after enough pestering, the crime-stopper had finally agreed to move in with them.

Unknowingly chaining themselves up in their own shackles. . .

The dream had quickly dissolved to reveal a nightmare where they were always guessing when Supervillain would be kissing their tired shoulders and lulling them to sleep with fingers softly stroking through their hair and when they would be furious, eyes alight with raging flames, easily overpowering them with the hero's small stature and injecting a drug into their bloodstream that left them completely out of it, a blank slate. Switching between one extreme and the other constantly, enough to drive Hero insane. There were rules. Hero’s twenty-one for crying out loud. They could not go out without the supervillain unless it was for work. They had to return home maximum by midnight.

Hero could handle overprotective. It could even be endearing at times. But this gilded cage built with the bars of Supervillain’s obsession was slowly choking them, smashing all of their hopes like a glass bottle thrown on the sidewalk, shattering to a million pieces. And just like shards of glass, putting them back together was nearly impossible, only serving to make whoever tried bleed.

But still, Hero couldn’t go back to the miserable excuse they’d had for a life before Supervillain. To celebrating birthdays and holidays alone. To eating dinner at an empty table. To stitching up the worst of their wounds without help. They just couldn’t. And Supervillain had made damn sure that there was no one else they could turn to.

“It would be pretty. . .unfortunate if something happened to that lucky person, darling, don’t you think so?” they’d crooned in that silky voice of theirs, their nails digging sharply into the skin of Hero’s arm.

Going back to them was like striking a deal with the devil because he promised you heaven.

But the devil can’t give you heaven. . .

Exactly. And yet you will still go through with the deal.

Before Hero can lament their indecisiveness any further, fate intervenes to make their decision for them.

The master criminal lands next to them with a swish of their dark cape, their face marred with worry. They waste no time in scooping them against their chest in a bridal carry, pressing their hands to the bloodied gashes scattered all over the crime-stopper’s body. They feel the familiar warmth of their wounds closing under the supervillain’s touch. Once they were done, the numb sensation disappears, and the pain washes over them again, making them lurch forward in the master criminal’s grasp.

*******************************************************

“What the hell were you thinking?” Supervillain screams, but it falls on deaf ears. Hero had grown frighteningly accustomed to the master criminal’s lectures, consisting purely of them being berated like some troublemaking child and then the details of the exact ‘punishment’ they would receive, how all of this was for their safety, how they shouldn’t dare to defy the supervillain ever again, yadda yadda yadda. It felt like terrible background music, like that song they always skipped whenever it came on the radio in their car. So, they stay silent through it all, gaze downcast, because they don’t have the energy, neither mental nor physical to meet the full intensity of the villain’s livid gaze. They just nod, shake their head, give the one-word answers the criminal wanted to hear.

And of course, the dreaded consequence. “This time, the dosage is twice as strong. To make sure you’ve learned. You know this is for your own good, doll?”

They nod sharply, like they actually believe it, focusing on bracing themselves for the sharp pinch of the needle breaking their skin, emptying its sinister contents into their bloodstream. It leaves them drugged out of their mind, feeling like their head had been emptied and refilled with cotton. Supervillain knew that even if they stuck around, even if they try to hide it, Hero holds whatever semblance of their freedom in high regard. Just the idea that they had virtually no control over themselves for a few hours was enough to terrify them into obedience.

When they snap out of it, there are no new injuries on them, absolutely nothing would change. Like every single time. The issue was, that the master criminal had blatantly refused to tell them whatever was being done to them when they were in that state. They stopped asking, but it never failed to keep them up at night.

*******************************************************

The next day, Supervillain had taken them to a luxurious hotel, a gesture that would have previously left them tongue-tied, squealing an ‘it’s too much!’ as they tried to hide how flattered they were. Now, they just feel numb. Empty. The way they do all the time.

At least staying in the hotel room is a change of scenery, so they don’t feel so much like they’re in a prison as they would have sleeping in their room back at Supervillain’s. “A new, temporary, gilded cage.” They snort to themselves, staring straight up at the dim lights hanging from the ceiling, as they lay flat on the bed.

Hero wakes up at an absurdly early hour, all the sleep magically disappearing from their eyes. So, they decide to shower, trying their hardest to focus on the water’s comforting heat, on the flowery smell of the hair conditioner, on anything that wasn’t the never-ending waterfall of terrible thoughts in their mind or the vice-like grip of a tightness in their chest left by guilt.

Taking a look at themselves in the bathroom mirror, Hero quickly notices the dark circles under their eyes and how much of a resemblance they bear to a stick figure in the bathrobe hanging loosely off their frame. They hadn’t been eating much lately. Lost their appetite among other things

When they finish, they find Supervillain awake and waiting for them, patiently sitting cross-legged on one of the seats in the room, smiling sweetly at them. They sit them down onto the chair next to them, and they stand up behind Hero. They place their hands delicately on the crime-fighter’s narrow shoulders, their knuckles warm as they gently applied pressure a little underneath their shoulder blades.

Oh how they hate that the master criminal is ironically incredibly good at comforting them. How they involuntarily lean into the touch, how the tension blissfully dissipates from their form.

“Just relax, dove. Focus on the touch, that’s it,” they whisper softly, and all the crime-stopper does is obey. What other option was there?

Their eyes flit over to a flock of birds flying through the sky as the earliest rays of the sun start to show themselves, the midnight blue of the sky fading to show stripes of brilliant oranges and pinks on a pale blue canvas. They envy those birds so much, to the point that it feels as though their appearance was simply to mock the hero.

*******************************************************

At dinner time, they try to distract themself with the food on their plate. Chicken curry had always been their favourite. It tastes impeccable here, shame they can’t actually enjoy it.

“I know what happened yesterday was pretty overkill, but it’s because I love you. I worry about you so much, sweetness. I figured I’d bring you over here to ease things up. Feeling better?” the supervillain questioned, so awfully concerned for them. How lovely.

And just like every time, whether it was at a restaurant, the movies, wherever, Hero gives them a small smile. “Much better, thank you,” they reply in a silky voice, with an ease born of practice

The first time, they’d actually fallen for the whole apology shtick. Right now, it’s just another part of the convoluted routine of their life.

They were both such wonderful actors in a sick, twisted, little fantasy. They knew full-well it was anything but real, an illusion born of cruel lies and gift-wrapped in skillful manipulation. Entrancingly beautiful like a bouquet of belladonna but just as damningly fatal. Sweet like honey and deadly like poison.

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