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#so im a big fat liar who lies when i said id be kinder to kuroo
nishiannoya · 3 years
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Pᵉˢᵗᶤˡᵉᶰᵗᶤᵃˡ Pᶤᵉᵗʸ
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f!reader x kuroo tetsurou, yandere, noncon / rape, obsession, face slapping, dacryphilia, a really fucked up kind of praise kink, forcing reader to say positive affirmations, seeking comfort and getting the opposite, cervix tap, mentions of breeding but pulls out, L-bombs, mindbreak, religious imagery, rough to fluff (sort of), (2.4k wc)
⛒ you are to be worshipped, and those who don’t can answer to him. and this includes you.
18+ Only - MINORS DNI
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Obsessed is such an ugly word. If he’s so-called obsessed, Kuroo wouldn’t be so willing to share you with the world. Devoted is a more suitable term.
He’s not quite sure when it started. You’ve been his friend since the start of university - always pretty, always funny, and always just a text or phone call away to let him vent about his classes. Perhaps it was triggered by other people noticing this as well, but not appreciating it the way he does: Slights from guys who can’t handle the fact that you smile at everyone, and little rumors from girls who don’t like the attention you receive. It irritates him to no end that other people can’t see how truly perfect you are, sometimes to the point of following such people around and leaving nails under their car tires or filling their unattended backpacks with whatever drink he has on hand. It’s simply karma, and quite frankly, less than what is deserved.
When someone questions his feelings for you, he tells them that he’s a friend. It’s the truth. Tetsurou would never dare to think that someone like you would ever return his romantic or more sinful feelings. Just being able to bask in the glow of your good nature is a treat for him - a blessing in his life that he truly feels undeserved. You’re like the divine walking amongst humans, and anyone who fails to recognize this will get what’s coming for them with his version of retribution.
That’s why this is so difficult, but really, you brought this upon yourself.
After a stressful day of midterms, you needed someone to talk to and unwind. Of course he would agree to your request, and brought himself over to your dorm in a matter of minutes. You always found Kuroo easy to talk to, so attentive and truly understanding of whatever it is you're saying. But some harmless venting stirs up some insecurities, and those insecurities start to turn into darker things.
The more you speak, the further the pit in his stomach digs. Something dark and slimy crawls into his bloodstream when he sees your tears and hears you utter the most disgusting attack on your own character.
You really thought that he would comfort you after slandering yourself in his presence? That he would let you off with a kind and simple “that’s not true” in response to calling yourself ugly, stupid, and unlovable? You are to be worshipped, and those who don’t can answer to him. And this includes you.
There’s no use in struggling against him. He’s got you pinned beneath him with his tall and muscular form, ready to deliver his punishment in the form of tearing off your clothes and praising every inch of your skin with his tongue despite your cries for him to stop. Even the way your tears roll down your face is beautiful, he thinks. He’ll make you see.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he rasps against your neck as he teases you with the hardness in his pants by rolling his hips into you, warning you of what’s about to come.
“Please stop. I’m not! I’m-”
THWACK!
“Shut the fuck up. Just shut the fuck up.” It hurts him to slap your pretty face, but it’s your fault for keeping on running your mouth with your nonsense. It stings, but at least he’s kind enough to kiss you to prevent you from saying more of what you don’t mean as he loosens his belt and unbuttons his pants. Your eyes light up in fear when you feel his cock press against your clothed cunt and you shake your head violently to rid your mouth of his.
"Please, don't do this," you beg. So polite, even when he's got your wrists held down above your head with one hand and shoving your panties down your thighs with the other. Your frightened eyes bore into him, desperately hoping to find at least a remnant of his humanity in the glowering gold of his irises. However, if you didn't want this, then you never would have said all those horrible things about yourself.
He forces himself in with a grunt, though you're more wet than he was expecting based on your opposition. So warm and inviting despite what words come from your mouth. God, you really are perfect.
Why. Why Tetsurou - your trusted friend who never pushed or even tested your bounds, and who you always felt so at ease with. You've never seen this look in his eyes, usually soft and playful in your presence, but now seem greedy and vengeful. It hurts so much more than just the stretch of his cock and the bruising hold of his fingers.
You sob as he rocks into you, sounding so pretty as his cock draws the cutest little moans from you with every thrust. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, signaling to his brain that you need this - that you need him. You can deny him all you want, but he's determined to make you see.
"You feel so good. So beautiful. So perfect," he pants as he releases your wrists to hover high above you, taking in the sight of your body on display for him like a work of art: Your face contorted in fighting the pleasure, tits bouncing in a hypnotic rhythm as he ruts into you, and pussy so lewdly split around him.
"Stop it. Stop it, please. I-I'm not, so just stop." You weakly try to push at his shoulders, but find yourself gripping into his skin with your fingernails when he picks up the pace.
"Oh? You want me to stop?" He teases with a huff. "Then tell me you're beautiful. Tell me you're perfect. Tell me you love yourself."
Your throat clenches up, more fat tears spilling out the corners of your eyes as you squeeze your eyes shut in hopes that this is all just a nightmare.
"I-I can't," you tell him in a tiny, pathetic voice. It breaks his heart. Really, it does, but all the more reason for him to teach you this lesson.
"Then I'm not fucking stopping."
He covers your mouth just before you're able to let out a scream when he shoves himself in all the way to the hilt. His pace is relentless, balls slapping against your ass as he pushes your hips up with his. He drives in deeper and deeper. He'd never dream of breeding you, but the temptation of your womb kissing his cockhead so sweetly has him considering filling you up to the brim.
You clench around him, body instinctively trying to expel him from you, but it only adds to the tight feeling in your core. You shouldn't be feeling this way- shouldn't be feeling like you're going to snap, and certainly shouldn't be hoping for it to happen. How dare he ask you to praise yourself when it feels like he's dragging you through damnation.
"I'll give you another chance," he offers without slowing down. "Tell me- nnnGh!- that you're beautiful."
He removes his hand from your mouth, but all you give him is a sad whimper, refusing to open your eyes. You want it to stop, so it should be so simple as to just say it. Yet as horrible as this all is, the thought of saying what he wants to hear is far more humiliating.
"What's the matter, love? Why can't you say it? Why can't you just be my perfect, sweet love and say it?" He coos, slowing down to stroke your trembling cheek with his thumb. You wince at his touch and the contradictory sentiment.
"I'm not. Please. I'm not," you sob, voice shaking as you hide your face behind your hands. It should be easy. It should be so easy.
Something about your pitiful state pulls at his gut - a dire need to take care of you and show you what you cannot see. He realizes that you're not just being stubborn with him, that you really are being blocked from saying it. He softens and a little bit of light returns to his eyes.
"You are. You're my perfect love," he says gently and pries your hands away to reveal your tear-stained cheeks. Both of your wrists are in his hands, locked against the floor just above your shoulders. He drops to his forearms, affectionately brushing his nose and lips across your jaw and to your ear.
Your walls pulse around him at the change in his demeanor. It makes your stomach twist in a way that feels sickeningly hot. Your breath hitches at the warm, ticklish feeling in your ear. It shouldn't feel anything but dreadful, but something vile inside you craves more of what he's giving.
He picks it up. He sees your tired, puffy eyes flutter open and glance up at him still with a little fear, completely at his mercy for whatever it is he has to say. It's as if you're looking to him to find your way back, and it fuels his ego to be chosen for the task. Here you are, held hostage under his strength, and yet he's the one at your service. Truly his liege. Truly divine.
"My beautiful, perfect love. Can't even control myself around you. That's why we're here. Just had to have you. Just had to show you how much I love you."
You gasp. You know you shouldn't feel any type of way from his honest, sweet words given how he's treated you, yet your heart strains against your chest and more tears flood your eyes. Everything aches. It's a strange concoction of fear and yearning coating your insides. It's too much, knocking down your weakened walls, and drowning your need to adhere to rationality.
"You love me?" You ask meekly. Your breath feels trapped next to your heart. It's as if he's got a hand to your throat, head going a little fuzzy as your mind furiously searches to make sense of all this. If he loves you, then perhaps this all isn't so bad.
"Of course, I love you. You are all my love," he tells you. He moves his hips slowly, the gentle rocking feeling less uncomfortable than before. It's as if you can feel his affection for you through the way his dick drags through your cunt, lighting you up from the inside with warmth.
You sniffle and sob, though these tears feel different like they're clearing the way for something else. He melts when you look up at him through wet lashes, seeing the need in your eyes for more - more of his devotion, more of him. It fills him with a sense of duty, one so strong that he can feel his love and awe for you expanding.
"Come on. Please. Please tell me you love yourself. I need to hear it."
He's the one pleading with you now, praying for salvation in the form of bringing you back up to elevation. If he can get you to say it, then it's worth the ugly process of getting you there. He'll seek your forgiveness later, repent for it if needed, but for now, he's lost in his need for you to reply to his invocation.
And so you murmur it, ever so softly. Like words from heaven, it's as if a light touches his soul when it reaches his ears.
"Oh? There she is," he smiles and cups your chin with his fingers. "Look at me and say it again."
"I am love," you breathe, voice clear despite the strain from before.
He beams, cock throbbing inside you at your rightful claim. Of course, he thinks. Of course, one so seraphic as yourself would go beyond and rightfully claim the embodiment of love. His aureate eyes flicker at the thought that he's in you right now, reveling in your reclamation. More, oh more, please give him more.
"Tell me you're beautiful," he pleads, chest heaving as he continues to pound into you, rapt in the luxury of your sublime and supple cunt.
So you declare it at his request, finding yourself truly holding onto the affirmation. How righteous you are, and how blessed is he that he gets to bear witness to your self-glory. Already on his knees and elbows above you, he falls into a full grovel, pressing you tightly between his weight and the floor. His eyes roll and yours shake with the overwhelming exchange of his adoration and your transcendent splendor, both of you panting your yeses and pleas into each other's sweat-coated skin.
"Yes. Perfect. My love. My beautiful, perfect love. Yes, please- Fuck!"
One hard thrust into you, and you're clawing at his back, welcoming the release of small death that ripples its way from the curling of your toes to the depraved cries rolling off your tongue. It takes the only decency he has left in him to free himself of your pulsing cunt and hold his own release until his cock slaps down on your skin and paints the space between your bodies in his seed.
You take a moment to catch your breath and collect your feelings. All of it is strange. You know you should be upset with him, but you can't find it in you, especially when something dribbles on your cheek and you focus your gaze to see him looking down at you with wet, remorseful eyes.
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
His voice trembles. It pains you to see his tears even though you're the one in need of empathy. Still, you raise a gentle hand to his face and offer him a weak smile and a whisper of his name to let him know that you're okay for now. He sobs and buries his face into your neck in self-reproof, beckoning you to offer your embrace for solace. Oh how you are undoubtedly divine, and he is truly unworthy.
"Don't you ever say those horrible things about yourself again," he sniffles in your hold and you respond with a simple hum. Like a hand stretched out to offer him restoration, he latches onto your quiet agreement, ready to once again devote himself properly to your grace.
"Now, let me repent."
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