pornnn
actualrapist: Write me porn
emocalypse: Kay give me a starting point
actualrapist: Non con
emocalypse: Hmm characters?
actualrapist: ........Kamui and Fuuma
emocalypse: Ffffff >3 which fuuma
Actualrapist: Happy one
emocalypse: ......I'll assume you want my kamui?
actualrapist: Yes
emocalypse: You make life REAL EASY for me huh XD gimme a bit I'll try
WARNINGS: rape. also, OOCness especially on Fuuma's part since. er. rape, yes.
His back met the wall hard, and Kamui knew he'd bruise. "I've told you to stay away from him," Fuuma hissed, angrier than Kamui's ever seen him. Ignoring the weak protests, Fuuma stripped him, movements rough. "Where did he touch you?" large hands ran down Kamui's side to his hips, "Here?" A finger was forced, dry, inside him, pulling a strangled scream from his throat.
Preparation was barely existent: Fuuma added another (spit-slicked, this time) finger before Kamui had even remotely grown used to the first, scissoring and stretching just enough. Sheathing himself in one strong thrust, Fuuma suddenly wondered just what exactly he was doing. This wasn't going to help make his point. ...But the tight heat around him was tantalizing, so much friction that hurt in such a good way. His movements were short and rough; Kamui had stopped begging him to stop and, instead, was leaning against him bonelessly, tears running down his cheeks from vacant eyes.
emocalypse: Kay give me a starting point
actualrapist: Non con
emocalypse: Hmm characters?
actualrapist: ........Kamui and Fuuma
emocalypse: Ffffff >3 which fuuma
Actualrapist: Happy one
emocalypse: ......I'll assume you want my kamui?
actualrapist: Yes
emocalypse: You make life REAL EASY for me huh XD gimme a bit I'll try
WARNINGS: rape. also, OOCness especially on Fuuma's part since. er. rape, yes.
His back met the wall hard, and Kamui knew he'd bruise. "I've told you to stay away from him," Fuuma hissed, angrier than Kamui's ever seen him. Ignoring the weak protests, Fuuma stripped him, movements rough. "Where did he touch you?" large hands ran down Kamui's side to his hips, "Here?" A finger was forced, dry, inside him, pulling a strangled scream from his throat.
Preparation was barely existent: Fuuma added another (spit-slicked, this time) finger before Kamui had even remotely grown used to the first, scissoring and stretching just enough. Sheathing himself in one strong thrust, Fuuma suddenly wondered just what exactly he was doing. This wasn't going to help make his point. ...But the tight heat around him was tantalizing, so much friction that hurt in such a good way. His movements were short and rough; Kamui had stopped begging him to stop and, instead, was leaning against him bonelessly, tears running down his cheeks from vacant eyes.