Hadi

R/AITA For Looking Through My Girlfriend’s Phone? u/keepingitrealbyhugo.v

I am not one to bring my personal life to Reddit. But this is important. I (19M) have been dating my girlfriend for a while now. It’s been common practice for me to look through her phone so I know what she’s up to and so she hasn’t strayed down a dark path. I’ve only done it out of protection and love. But she apparently doesn’t seem to think so.

Last night she was in the shower and left her phone in the bedroom. I of course had to look through it. Upon finding a collection of dirty porn books (whatever you call them) I immediately had to bring it up to her. The profanity was downright ridiculous. What even is AO3?! Who is Eren Jaeger?! When she got out of the shower, I asked her why she was reading those books. I said that the words on those digital pages are obscene and then she threw a clothes hanger at me. Why?

She told me that looking through her phone was a massive invasion of her privacy. That makes no sense considering I’m only helping her out to make sure she’s the best version of herself as possible. How can she be the best version of herself if she is dabbling in porn books?

The conversation we had went terribly, to say the least. I’m staying over at my friends while me and her go through this rough patch. I don’t think I’m the asshole here. I wasn’t the one reading profanity whilst in a relationship . . .

So, am I the asshole for looking through my girlfriend’s phone?

| u/julianloki.therealest: im the friend yall

> u/keepingitrealbyhugo.v: Indeed you are ;)

> u/julianloki.therealest: dude chill im easy 😩

> u/itzcharleschevy: YO IM HERE TOO WSP and stop acting gay or else one of you will get pregnant

> u/keepingitrealbyhugo.v: Charles please log off…

| u/xxotoya.exx: she’s fs cheating on u im sorry. nta.

| u/bumblingbachirahehe: i read an article once that looking through people’s phones is a sign of emotional immaturity.. talk to her. unfortunately i think yta

| u/saeitoshi10: 😂😂😂😂😂😂 yta

| u/yaboykunigami: Girls are so hard to deal with. But I don’t think looking through their phones is ever a good idea. What did you expect..? YTA

| u/themichaelkaiser: what a fucking loser. wasting time on love? i can’t believe what i’m seeing. check out my podcast for real life advice and not from losers on reddit

> u/xnagisei: hey u promoted ur pdcst under my posts 2 ://

> u/themichaelkaiser: cuz people like u need my help.

| u/ddddddddlorenzo: buy her a birkin bag or something idk.

| u/shidouisdeepinside: wait what were the books she was reading 👀👀

| u/rinthedestroyer: you really brought this shit to reddit? damn loser. yta

> u/julianloki.therealest: easy on my boy u child

> u/rinthedestroyer: die

> u/itzcharleschevy: RIN THE DESTROYER 😂😂 you make me chortle i think i’ll pee from laughing rn

> u/rinthedestroyer: kys.

| u/iggybunny: she threw a clothes hanger?! i’d kms hahaha. nta

> u/totesnotsae: would you kys?? actually?? prove it.

| u/aikugota.snakeinhispants: women.

. . .

it appears hugo was indeed the asshole.

— ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

or Kaiser helping his troubled girlfriend to bawl her eyes out!

word count: 2.6k

tags: fem! reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, edging, cockwarming, masturbation, Kaiser is lwk healing, maybe ooc kaiser idk how to write him, porn with a bit of feelings, condescension, not proofread writer is oblivious

a/n: gulp... ill delete this I promise... I promised to make this blog pure fluff but I can't help it. wrote this on the bus, posted this while sitting beside my mom

Kaiser really tries to be a good boyfriend! 

He courts you better than any gentleman should: showers you with gifts and money, has his way with words to make sure it strikes the right spot in your heart! 

And of course he pushes himself to be a better person to turn to! Has anyone seen the collection of psychology books stashed in his room? Full of marks and writings in there, each page painstakingly examined to learn how to handle your emotions. As much as cumbrous and difficult it is, he sincerely wishes to never betray nor abandon your trust once you finally confessed and uttered the word ‘love’ to him. If you couldmanage his standoffish and prickly exterior with such weak and pathetic insides (so gross and mushy like his bloody guts), why wouldn’t he keep up? 

At the end of the day, you were rest assured that there was nothing wrong with him trying his best to console you. So, you were left with the fact that it was your and only your problem all alone. Which begged a question: why would you bother Michael with your problems non-stop? He probably wouldn’t notice. 

Except he did. Seriously, did you think of him so lowly to consider using these measly tactics? However, before he decided to go resentful upon such disrespect and distrust, he decided to take the reins. 

Kaiser used every trick in the book: spent more time with you, directly told you that you could always turn to him, tried to distract you, even tried to make you cry to get you feel at least something! Ultimately, the sight of your slumped shoulders, heavy breathing, rarely sincere smiles, this weird feeling constricting your chest until it physically hurt and didn’t let you take a deep breath––it evolved into somatic symptoms, how couldn’t he abhor his helplessness?!––never left his observing gaze. He had to address the elephant in the room. 

“I don’t like it.” 

Kaiser lounged on the couch: thick velvet fabric of an expensive robe draped over him elegantly, another book about mental health rested in his hands, while he fixed his reading glasses––annoyingly rich and delicateview, truly keeping up with his ‘emperor’ style. 

“What exactly?” You were passing him though his words made you halt and turn your head. 

“You’re not getting any better, and you don’t tell me this.” 

His precise words cut through the air, as he looked up from his reading, staring at you with a somewhat stern gaze. The relaxed atmosphere of the living room shifted, like this uneasy plume began to seep from the corners and fill it. 

“What are you––” 

“Stop chewing your lip, first of all.” He pointed at your face lazily, which turned your lips in a thin line. “And don’t do that thing with your hands. And––” 

“Do you just want to scold me??” you boldly interrupted him, brows furrowed in irritation and arms crossed in this standoffish manner, like a rebelling teenager. “I’m completely fine!” 

“And... look at me in my eyes.” He went on patiently, exhaling through his nose, reminding himself the way he should approach your already vulnerable state. So, swallowing his pride, he mused, “Sorry, I’m just really concerned about your state. I can perfectly see that you’re not doing well, and you don’t tell me shit.” 

Sorry... did he apologise? Did he even realise how much it meant for you (well, and most of all, for himself, too!) 

Well, maybe for this occasion you shouldn’t act so immaturely... especially when he’s so composed and ready to abandon his pride. 

Your defensive facade crumbled as quickly as it appeared. 

“I’m sorry, Micha, I–– you’ve already helped me enough, it’s just... I don’t know. Something I have to go through and wait?” 

“So..? Does that mean I can’t help you anymore? Do I need to renew the boyfriend subscription?” 

“What’s the point of asking for help if it doesn't work? Just wasting time,” you rolled your eyes with a chuckle as a mere distraction. “It’s not even a bad feeling, you know? It’s just weird. I can’t even cry!” 

“You can’t?” Kaiser closed his book and put it aside, cocking his head in that irritating manner.  

You stood awkwardly in front of him in utter silence, under his full and undivided attention. Something about it made you uncomfortable till you finally spoke up. 

“I try to, but I can’t.” you admitted in defeat.  

“Do you need to cry?” 

“What?” 

Crying is a nice and healthy emotional outlet, Kaiser thought, glancing at the book beside him and then at you. So, he seriously saw no problem in his little offer––why would you get so tensed in front of him when hewas surely better than your friends who knew nothing about psychology? 

“Do you need a shoulder to cry on?”  

That was how he got you. 

Michael relaxed on the couch; his legs parted so the fabric of his robe opened, revealing his toned legs––from ankles to his tensed thighs and dramatic v-line of his bare hips with hard cock that nestled inside you now, enveloped in your warmth. You were stripped bare, completely nude, a sight of curved and sharp lines, etched and exposed body, connected with his by this massive length you involuntarily clenched around. 

“I-is it necessary?” you murmured in embarrassment, placing hands on his chest for support; the eye contact––clinical, honest, devoid of lust––only intensified this burning feeling. 

“I need you open and vulnerable, don’t question my methods,” Michael pulled you closer with his trademark grin to put you at ease, hands carefully placed on your waist, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. “Now, tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“Don’t you know everything already?” you made a playful diverting jab, trying to lift your hips, which was futile with the death grip on your hips, strength that was about to leave bruises and was about to pop the veins on his tense arm, bicep twitched under the sleeve. 

“Sit still. And tell me again.” But his voice didn’t change even a bit, still the same calmness, maybe even laced with some gentleness that left no room for bratting, so unlike him yet so attractive. You could tell that thesick bastard knew it perfectly by the way his smile shifted when you clenched. 

Yeah, you gave in. Immediately. 

“Okay... so, I don’t know... maybe it all started when––” you were about to start when you felt the jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine, finding his fingers on your clit when you looked down, lightly caressing it. “M-Micha...” 

“Go on,” he tilted your head to meet his gaze again, voice low yet firm. “Don’t be distracted.” 

Funny joke, you thought, again trying to veer this encounter in something more interesting––why did he think it’d be a nice idea in the first place? Especially when you were about to furiously grind–– 

“Uh uh... you stay still.” The hand on your hip squeezed in caveat, keeping you in place. Though his half-serious half-relaxed expression, totally not without teasing and mockery, made it clear that your whines and puppy eyes didn’t work. “Continue.” 

“I think mh... I have this little p-problem.” Your breath hitched as you started again monotonously, like playing the song you grew tired of. Seriously, if he had just wanted to tease you, he could’ve gotten a better excuse than your ‘concerning’ state. 

“What problem?” he pressed on your clit, feeling the way your walls clamped on him, your bitter face got weaker, more pathetic, and warmer (in contrast of chilly air of the room, leaving shivers at the nape of your neck). 

“I don’t mean to be rude w-when this happens,” you thread carefully: thoughts began to process slower, be it this plume of lust gradually taking over you mixed with this heavy feeling in your chest––funny sensation, to be fair. “I-I know I isolate when I, M-Micha, f-feel this way...” 

“Poor thing... how do we help you if you keep doing it?” 

Something about being pitied that way, your struggles acknowledged with a badge of honour, light condescension and a pinch on your clit, shoot sparks of pleasure through your body, as you writhed in Michael’s hold––you could be not a better person but you had an incredibly hot boyfriend! 

“They don’t... but I wish–– a-ah! W-wish they stayed...” you shuddered, squeezing the cock inside you that it only added to the stimulation. You closed your eyes behind fluttering eyelids, focusing on this sweet sensation that was about to melt. “I’m close, Micha!”  

And then he withdrew his fingers, leaving you whining pathetically. 

“Sit still,” Kaiser reminded you, not giving you a bit of friction against your aching clit! 

“B-bastard...” you muttered in his shoulder, pulsing longingly. 

“Me? I stayed, unlike them. I’m anything but bastard, liebling,” Michael chuckled, like you said the most funny joke, tilted your face, chin accommodated between his thumb and index finger, slight look of disappointment shown on his face. “You didn’t finish your story. Speak up.” 

You stayed silent in protest, only occasionally whimpering at the fading feeling in your core, but unable to retain like that for too long––in the end, he was in control of your pleasure! And especially today when he was extra gentle with his touches (and extra mean with his teasing!) 

“So... I also don’t like that they t-treated me this way...” 

Kaiser could go for hours like that. There was something fun in this repetitiveness––push and pull––and the way he played this game was nasty. 

The slick was oozing from your hole, running down his shaft, staining both of your thighs, while it seeped down his velvet robe; your pussy clenched so tightly and so many times, it remembered every vein and ridge, shaping to its mould. You were trembling uncontrollably, hips desperately trying to move in the sync to the waves of pleasure, scrapping your nails all over Micha’s chest and shoulders. That was all you wanted to think about. Micha and only Micha! 

He didn’t change a bit in his attitude: still composed even if his dick was suffocated and drowned in your juices, still demanding and keeping you talking like a doctor with a nearly conscious patient, pulling you out of the trance. He was devouring all your sweet reactions, all this frustration––both mental and sexual––until he heard your voice. 

“D-don’t stop! D-don't! Please please please I beg!” You were so sensitive, your clit was so sensitive to his touch, throbbing and aching, it was merciless to torture it like that! 

The way it broke at the end, and he forced you to look him in the eye and see the reddishness under the thick layer of tears. 

A little more, he thought, quickening his fingers’ pace, until he knew you were close; he knew better than anyone when you were, he mapped out all your reactions, the same ones he was drinking in. 

You were close... he could feel it, hear it, see it. 

Time to retrieve. 

He attentively watched your face, finally contorting in desperation, first broken sobs leaving your mouth, and the most important––pearly tears running down your cheeks.  

You broke down. And he couldn’t help but feel so aroused. So cruel, so gross, but so hard. His cock twitched inside you. 

“M-Micha, you’re sooo sniffle mean!” you cried, finally. “It hurts!” 

“What hurts, shatz?” his velvety voice remained so soothing, so patronising, so pitying. As if it wasn’t him ruining you with this smile creeping up, as if it wasn't his voice making you clamp on his shaft even more.  

“Everything! It’s s-so unfair, so unfair, so unfair!!” You sobbed in his robe, smearing tears and snot against the expensive fabric. “They’re unfair, you’re unfair!” 

Pretty cries echoed in his ears, like a nice symphony, before you boldly bit into his neck, sinking teeth deeply in the blue rose, the same rose that kept you in place. What would give him more pleasure than drive you into even bigger tears? 

“Poor baby, they treated you like that.” And he treated you better, of course he did, something he must remind you. He cupped your face, wiping your tears away. He loved the way he didn't even have to rise his voiceor come up with insults to make you cry even more—one of his favourite things in psychology. 

You nodded. 

“I-I can’t go on... M-Micha" 

“Shh... you can, you’ve been such a good girl for me.”  

He leaned closer, enough to steal a kiss, though he didn't aim for your puffy lips, but for your tear-stained cheeks. Boldly, he ran his tongue along the wet paths, moist muscle went up until it met your fluttering eyelashes. Salty, he thought. 

“I can’t I can’t I can’t!!” You writhed in the thorns of blue rose that kept you in place, trembling body pressing against his. You felt velvet against your sensitive, hardened nipples, shuddering once again—all of your senses screamed! 

“Just a little more…”  

You exhaled inconsistently but when you tried to focus on pleasure, a few more tears spilled down your cheeks.  

Reaching that point where the borderline between pleasure and pain was washed out, once Kaiser again touched your abused bundle of nerves. It was gross—the thought repeated in his head, circling back and forth. 

As more blood rushed to his raging cock at the sight of you falling apart, his head started to fill with questions: is he sick in the head? Making you— his only lover, the one who accepted him, the one he was supposed to protect—cry, feeling this twisted satisfaction. 

He kissed your eyelids, grip on you slightly loosened, as he nudged his hips upwards, seeing you shudder at the lightest movement. Maybe it was guilt overcoming his desire. 

“Okay, pretty girl, enough for you.” 

With these words he carefully flipped you onto your back, hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles, as he started to thrust and hit your sweet spots, already so sensitive you spill tears like nothing!  

“Shhh, you know I love you, right?” Kaiser buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling your hand tangling in the blond locks. 

The hands behind your trembling knees bended your legs, hearing your squeals growing louder with the new angle, repeating his name over and over till it was drilled into the back of your skull. 

“M-Micha, I l-love you!” You managed to choke out mid sobs, making his heart swell with this unfamiliar feeling, that made his pace erratic—he, too, had to tease himself throughout the evening.  

“Come, Maus.” He groaned, pressing down on your tummy. 

You came violently: eyes rolled behind the skull, cries mixed with dirty slick sounds, while Michael spilled his seed inside your clenching heat. 

Gasping for air, you came down from your high—it was lighter, now that this mysterious pressure in your chest was gone. You were fucked out but relieved. Nice sensation accompanied with sore muscles. The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Kaiser’s analytical gaze.  

“Are you okay?” He fixed your mussed hair. “Do you need another round?” 

“Fine... phew... no more.” 

So he scooped you in his arms, laying down with you on top of him, head resting on his toned chest. 

“Enough tears for pretty girl?” 

“Yeah... it's easier to breathe,” you muttered at his teasing, before turning your head to look in his eyes, gaze softening as well as your voice, “Thank you, Micha” 

“shh.. Just rest. You can thank me later.” 

Kaiser really tried his best when it came to his relationships. And if he could help you his own way, why wouldn’t he give a shot? 

Say hello to Karasu's choppleganger!!!!

He looks like one of those roblox avatars im actually crying 😭✌🏾

"Is my oc noticeable?" Lookin ass

or Kaiser helping his troubled girlfriend to bawl her eyes out!

word count: 2.6k

tags: fem! reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, edging, cockwarming, masturbation, Kaiser is lwk healing, maybe ooc kaiser idk how to write him, porn with a bit of feelings, condescension, not proofread writer is oblivious

a/n: gulp... ill delete this I promise... I promised to make this blog pure fluff but I can't help it. wrote this on the bus, posted this while sitting beside my mom

Kaiser really tries to be a good boyfriend! 

He courts you better than any gentleman should: showers you with gifts and money, has his way with words to make sure it strikes the right spot in your heart! 

And of course he pushes himself to be a better person to turn to! Has anyone seen the collection of psychology books stashed in his room? Full of marks and writings in there, each page painstakingly examined to learn how to handle your emotions. As much as cumbrous and difficult it is, he sincerely wishes to never betray nor abandon your trust once you finally confessed and uttered the word ‘love’ to him. If you couldmanage his standoffish and prickly exterior with such weak and pathetic insides (so gross and mushy like his bloody guts), why wouldn’t he keep up? 

At the end of the day, you were rest assured that there was nothing wrong with him trying his best to console you. So, you were left with the fact that it was your and only your problem all alone. Which begged a question: why would you bother Michael with your problems non-stop? He probably wouldn’t notice. 

Except he did. Seriously, did you think of him so lowly to consider using these measly tactics? However, before he decided to go resentful upon such disrespect and distrust, he decided to take the reins. 

Kaiser used every trick in the book: spent more time with you, directly told you that you could always turn to him, tried to distract you, even tried to make you cry to get you feel at least something! Ultimately, the sight of your slumped shoulders, heavy breathing, rarely sincere smiles, this weird feeling constricting your chest until it physically hurt and didn’t let you take a deep breath––it evolved into somatic symptoms, how couldn’t he abhor his helplessness?!––never left his observing gaze. He had to address the elephant in the room. 

“I don’t like it.” 

Kaiser lounged on the couch: thick velvet fabric of an expensive robe draped over him elegantly, another book about mental health rested in his hands, while he fixed his reading glasses––annoyingly rich and delicateview, truly keeping up with his ‘emperor’ style. 

“What exactly?” You were passing him though his words made you halt and turn your head. 

“You’re not getting any better, and you don’t tell me this.” 

His precise words cut through the air, as he looked up from his reading, staring at you with a somewhat stern gaze. The relaxed atmosphere of the living room shifted, like this uneasy plume began to seep from the corners and fill it. 

“What are you––” 

“Stop chewing your lip, first of all.” He pointed at your face lazily, which turned your lips in a thin line. “And don’t do that thing with your hands. And––” 

“Do you just want to scold me??” you boldly interrupted him, brows furrowed in irritation and arms crossed in this standoffish manner, like a rebelling teenager. “I’m completely fine!” 

“And... look at me in my eyes.” He went on patiently, exhaling through his nose, reminding himself the way he should approach your already vulnerable state. So, swallowing his pride, he mused, “Sorry, I’m just really concerned about your state. I can perfectly see that you’re not doing well, and you don’t tell me shit.” 

Sorry... did he apologise? Did he even realise how much it meant for you (well, and most of all, for himself, too!) 

Well, maybe for this occasion you shouldn’t act so immaturely... especially when he’s so composed and ready to abandon his pride. 

Your defensive facade crumbled as quickly as it appeared. 

“I’m sorry, Micha, I–– you’ve already helped me enough, it’s just... I don’t know. Something I have to go through and wait?” 

“So..? Does that mean I can’t help you anymore? Do I need to renew the boyfriend subscription?” 

“What’s the point of asking for help if it doesn't work? Just wasting time,” you rolled your eyes with a chuckle as a mere distraction. “It’s not even a bad feeling, you know? It’s just weird. I can’t even cry!” 

“You can’t?” Kaiser closed his book and put it aside, cocking his head in that irritating manner.  

You stood awkwardly in front of him in utter silence, under his full and undivided attention. Something about it made you uncomfortable till you finally spoke up. 

“I try to, but I can’t.” you admitted in defeat.  

“Do you need to cry?” 

“What?” 

Crying is a nice and healthy emotional outlet, Kaiser thought, glancing at the book beside him and then at you. So, he seriously saw no problem in his little offer––why would you get so tensed in front of him when hewas surely better than your friends who knew nothing about psychology? 

“Do you need a shoulder to cry on?”  

That was how he got you. 

Michael relaxed on the couch; his legs parted so the fabric of his robe opened, revealing his toned legs––from ankles to his tensed thighs and dramatic v-line of his bare hips with hard cock that nestled inside you now, enveloped in your warmth. You were stripped bare, completely nude, a sight of curved and sharp lines, etched and exposed body, connected with his by this massive length you involuntarily clenched around. 

“I-is it necessary?” you murmured in embarrassment, placing hands on his chest for support; the eye contact––clinical, honest, devoid of lust––only intensified this burning feeling. 

“I need you open and vulnerable, don’t question my methods,” Michael pulled you closer with his trademark grin to put you at ease, hands carefully placed on your waist, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. “Now, tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“Don’t you know everything already?” you made a playful diverting jab, trying to lift your hips, which was futile with the death grip on your hips, strength that was about to leave bruises and was about to pop the veins on his tense arm, bicep twitched under the sleeve. 

“Sit still. And tell me again.” But his voice didn’t change even a bit, still the same calmness, maybe even laced with some gentleness that left no room for bratting, so unlike him yet so attractive. You could tell that thesick bastard knew it perfectly by the way his smile shifted when you clenched. 

Yeah, you gave in. Immediately. 

“Okay... so, I don’t know... maybe it all started when––” you were about to start when you felt the jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine, finding his fingers on your clit when you looked down, lightly caressing it. “M-Micha...” 

“Go on,” he tilted your head to meet his gaze again, voice low yet firm. “Don’t be distracted.” 

Funny joke, you thought, again trying to veer this encounter in something more interesting––why did he think it’d be a nice idea in the first place? Especially when you were about to furiously grind–– 

“Uh uh... you stay still.” The hand on your hip squeezed in caveat, keeping you in place. Though his half-serious half-relaxed expression, totally not without teasing and mockery, made it clear that your whines and puppy eyes didn’t work. “Continue.” 

“I think mh... I have this little p-problem.” Your breath hitched as you started again monotonously, like playing the song you grew tired of. Seriously, if he had just wanted to tease you, he could’ve gotten a better excuse than your ‘concerning’ state. 

“What problem?” he pressed on your clit, feeling the way your walls clamped on him, your bitter face got weaker, more pathetic, and warmer (in contrast of chilly air of the room, leaving shivers at the nape of your neck). 

“I don’t mean to be rude w-when this happens,” you thread carefully: thoughts began to process slower, be it this plume of lust gradually taking over you mixed with this heavy feeling in your chest––funny sensation, to be fair. “I-I know I isolate when I, M-Micha, f-feel this way...” 

“Poor thing... how do we help you if you keep doing it?” 

Something about being pitied that way, your struggles acknowledged with a badge of honour, light condescension and a pinch on your clit, shoot sparks of pleasure through your body, as you writhed in Michael’s hold––you could be not a better person but you had an incredibly hot boyfriend! 

“They don’t... but I wish–– a-ah! W-wish they stayed...” you shuddered, squeezing the cock inside you that it only added to the stimulation. You closed your eyes behind fluttering eyelids, focusing on this sweet sensation that was about to melt. “I’m close, Micha!”  

And then he withdrew his fingers, leaving you whining pathetically. 

“Sit still,” Kaiser reminded you, not giving you a bit of friction against your aching clit! 

“B-bastard...” you muttered in his shoulder, pulsing longingly. 

“Me? I stayed, unlike them. I’m anything but bastard, liebling,” Michael chuckled, like you said the most funny joke, tilted your face, chin accommodated between his thumb and index finger, slight look of disappointment shown on his face. “You didn’t finish your story. Speak up.” 

You stayed silent in protest, only occasionally whimpering at the fading feeling in your core, but unable to retain like that for too long––in the end, he was in control of your pleasure! And especially today when he was extra gentle with his touches (and extra mean with his teasing!) 

“So... I also don’t like that they t-treated me this way...” 

Kaiser could go for hours like that. There was something fun in this repetitiveness––push and pull––and the way he played this game was nasty. 

The slick was oozing from your hole, running down his shaft, staining both of your thighs, while it seeped down his velvet robe; your pussy clenched so tightly and so many times, it remembered every vein and ridge, shaping to its mould. You were trembling uncontrollably, hips desperately trying to move in the sync to the waves of pleasure, scrapping your nails all over Micha’s chest and shoulders. That was all you wanted to think about. Micha and only Micha! 

He didn’t change a bit in his attitude: still composed even if his dick was suffocated and drowned in your juices, still demanding and keeping you talking like a doctor with a nearly conscious patient, pulling you out of the trance. He was devouring all your sweet reactions, all this frustration––both mental and sexual––until he heard your voice. 

“D-don’t stop! D-don't! Please please please I beg!” You were so sensitive, your clit was so sensitive to his touch, throbbing and aching, it was merciless to torture it like that! 

The way it broke at the end, and he forced you to look him in the eye and see the reddishness under the thick layer of tears. 

A little more, he thought, quickening his fingers’ pace, until he knew you were close; he knew better than anyone when you were, he mapped out all your reactions, the same ones he was drinking in. 

You were close... he could feel it, hear it, see it. 

Time to retrieve. 

He attentively watched your face, finally contorting in desperation, first broken sobs leaving your mouth, and the most important––pearly tears running down your cheeks.  

You broke down. And he couldn’t help but feel so aroused. So cruel, so gross, but so hard. His cock twitched inside you. 

“M-Micha, you’re sooo sniffle mean!” you cried, finally. “It hurts!” 

“What hurts, shatz?” his velvety voice remained so soothing, so patronising, so pitying. As if it wasn’t him ruining you with this smile creeping up, as if it wasn't his voice making you clamp on his shaft even more.  

“Everything! It’s s-so unfair, so unfair, so unfair!!” You sobbed in his robe, smearing tears and snot against the expensive fabric. “They’re unfair, you’re unfair!” 

Pretty cries echoed in his ears, like a nice symphony, before you boldly bit into his neck, sinking teeth deeply in the blue rose, the same rose that kept you in place. What would give him more pleasure than drive you into even bigger tears? 

“Poor baby, they treated you like that.” And he treated you better, of course he did, something he must remind you. He cupped your face, wiping your tears away. He loved the way he didn't even have to rise his voiceor come up with insults to make you cry even more—one of his favourite things in psychology. 

You nodded. 

“I-I can’t go on... M-Micha" 

“Shh... you can, you’ve been such a good girl for me.”  

He leaned closer, enough to steal a kiss, though he didn't aim for your puffy lips, but for your tear-stained cheeks. Boldly, he ran his tongue along the wet paths, moist muscle went up until it met your fluttering eyelashes. Salty, he thought. 

“I can’t I can’t I can’t!!” You writhed in the thorns of blue rose that kept you in place, trembling body pressing against his. You felt velvet against your sensitive, hardened nipples, shuddering once again—all of your senses screamed! 

“Just a little more…”  

You exhaled inconsistently but when you tried to focus on pleasure, a few more tears spilled down your cheeks.  

Reaching that point where the borderline between pleasure and pain was washed out, once Kaiser again touched your abused bundle of nerves. It was gross—the thought repeated in his head, circling back and forth. 

As more blood rushed to his raging cock at the sight of you falling apart, his head started to fill with questions: is he sick in the head? Making you— his only lover, the one who accepted him, the one he was supposed to protect—cry, feeling this twisted satisfaction. 

He kissed your eyelids, grip on you slightly loosened, as he nudged his hips upwards, seeing you shudder at the lightest movement. Maybe it was guilt overcoming his desire. 

“Okay, pretty girl, enough for you.” 

With these words he carefully flipped you onto your back, hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles, as he started to thrust and hit your sweet spots, already so sensitive you spill tears like nothing!  

“Shhh, you know I love you, right?” Kaiser buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling your hand tangling in the blond locks. 

The hands behind your trembling knees bended your legs, hearing your squeals growing louder with the new angle, repeating his name over and over till it was drilled into the back of your skull. 

“M-Micha, I l-love you!” You managed to choke out mid sobs, making his heart swell with this unfamiliar feeling, that made his pace erratic—he, too, had to tease himself throughout the evening.  

“Come, Maus.” He groaned, pressing down on your tummy. 

You came violently: eyes rolled behind the skull, cries mixed with dirty slick sounds, while Michael spilled his seed inside your clenching heat. 

Gasping for air, you came down from your high—it was lighter, now that this mysterious pressure in your chest was gone. You were fucked out but relieved. Nice sensation accompanied with sore muscles. The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Kaiser’s analytical gaze.  

“Are you okay?” He fixed your mussed hair. “Do you need another round?” 

“Fine... phew... no more.” 

So he scooped you in his arms, laying down with you on top of him, head resting on his toned chest. 

“Enough tears for pretty girl?” 

“Yeah... it's easier to breathe,” you muttered at his teasing, before turning your head to look in his eyes, gaze softening as well as your voice, “Thank you, Micha” 

“shh.. Just rest. You can thank me later.” 

Kaiser really tried his best when it came to his relationships. And if he could help you his own way, why wouldn’t he give a shot? 

or Kaiser helping his troubled girlfriend to bawl her eyes out!

word count: 2.6k

tags: fem! reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, edging, cockwarming, masturbation, Kaiser is lwk healing, maybe ooc kaiser idk how to write him, porn with a bit of feelings, condescension, not proofread writer is oblivious

a/n: gulp... ill delete this I promise... I promised to make this blog pure fluff but I can't help it. wrote this on the bus, posted this while sitting beside my mom

Kaiser really tries to be a good boyfriend! 

He courts you better than any gentleman should: showers you with gifts and money, has his way with words to make sure it strikes the right spot in your heart! 

And of course he pushes himself to be a better person to turn to! Has anyone seen the collection of psychology books stashed in his room? Full of marks and writings in there, each page painstakingly examined to learn how to handle your emotions. As much as cumbrous and difficult it is, he sincerely wishes to never betray nor abandon your trust once you finally confessed and uttered the word ‘love’ to him. If you couldmanage his standoffish and prickly exterior with such weak and pathetic insides (so gross and mushy like his bloody guts), why wouldn’t he keep up? 

At the end of the day, you were rest assured that there was nothing wrong with him trying his best to console you. So, you were left with the fact that it was your and only your problem all alone. Which begged a question: why would you bother Michael with your problems non-stop? He probably wouldn’t notice. 

Except he did. Seriously, did you think of him so lowly to consider using these measly tactics? However, before he decided to go resentful upon such disrespect and distrust, he decided to take the reins. 

Kaiser used every trick in the book: spent more time with you, directly told you that you could always turn to him, tried to distract you, even tried to make you cry to get you feel at least something! Ultimately, the sight of your slumped shoulders, heavy breathing, rarely sincere smiles, this weird feeling constricting your chest until it physically hurt and didn’t let you take a deep breath––it evolved into somatic symptoms, how couldn’t he abhor his helplessness?!––never left his observing gaze. He had to address the elephant in the room. 

“I don’t like it.” 

Kaiser lounged on the couch: thick velvet fabric of an expensive robe draped over him elegantly, another book about mental health rested in his hands, while he fixed his reading glasses––annoyingly rich and delicateview, truly keeping up with his ‘emperor’ style. 

“What exactly?” You were passing him though his words made you halt and turn your head. 

“You’re not getting any better, and you don’t tell me this.” 

His precise words cut through the air, as he looked up from his reading, staring at you with a somewhat stern gaze. The relaxed atmosphere of the living room shifted, like this uneasy plume began to seep from the corners and fill it. 

“What are you––” 

“Stop chewing your lip, first of all.” He pointed at your face lazily, which turned your lips in a thin line. “And don’t do that thing with your hands. And––” 

“Do you just want to scold me??” you boldly interrupted him, brows furrowed in irritation and arms crossed in this standoffish manner, like a rebelling teenager. “I’m completely fine!” 

“And... look at me in my eyes.” He went on patiently, exhaling through his nose, reminding himself the way he should approach your already vulnerable state. So, swallowing his pride, he mused, “Sorry, I’m just really concerned about your state. I can perfectly see that you’re not doing well, and you don’t tell me shit.” 

Sorry... did he apologise? Did he even realise how much it meant for you (well, and most of all, for himself, too!) 

Well, maybe for this occasion you shouldn’t act so immaturely... especially when he’s so composed and ready to abandon his pride. 

Your defensive facade crumbled as quickly as it appeared. 

“I’m sorry, Micha, I–– you’ve already helped me enough, it’s just... I don’t know. Something I have to go through and wait?” 

“So..? Does that mean I can’t help you anymore? Do I need to renew the boyfriend subscription?” 

“What’s the point of asking for help if it doesn't work? Just wasting time,” you rolled your eyes with a chuckle as a mere distraction. “It’s not even a bad feeling, you know? It’s just weird. I can’t even cry!” 

“You can’t?” Kaiser closed his book and put it aside, cocking his head in that irritating manner.  

You stood awkwardly in front of him in utter silence, under his full and undivided attention. Something about it made you uncomfortable till you finally spoke up. 

“I try to, but I can’t.” you admitted in defeat.  

“Do you need to cry?” 

“What?” 

Crying is a nice and healthy emotional outlet, Kaiser thought, glancing at the book beside him and then at you. So, he seriously saw no problem in his little offer––why would you get so tensed in front of him when hewas surely better than your friends who knew nothing about psychology? 

“Do you need a shoulder to cry on?”  

That was how he got you. 

Michael relaxed on the couch; his legs parted so the fabric of his robe opened, revealing his toned legs––from ankles to his tensed thighs and dramatic v-line of his bare hips with hard cock that nestled inside you now, enveloped in your warmth. You were stripped bare, completely nude, a sight of curved and sharp lines, etched and exposed body, connected with his by this massive length you involuntarily clenched around. 

“I-is it necessary?” you murmured in embarrassment, placing hands on his chest for support; the eye contact––clinical, honest, devoid of lust––only intensified this burning feeling. 

“I need you open and vulnerable, don’t question my methods,” Michael pulled you closer with his trademark grin to put you at ease, hands carefully placed on your waist, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. “Now, tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“Don’t you know everything already?” you made a playful diverting jab, trying to lift your hips, which was futile with the death grip on your hips, strength that was about to leave bruises and was about to pop the veins on his tense arm, bicep twitched under the sleeve. 

“Sit still. And tell me again.” But his voice didn’t change even a bit, still the same calmness, maybe even laced with some gentleness that left no room for bratting, so unlike him yet so attractive. You could tell that thesick bastard knew it perfectly by the way his smile shifted when you clenched. 

Yeah, you gave in. Immediately. 

“Okay... so, I don’t know... maybe it all started when––” you were about to start when you felt the jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine, finding his fingers on your clit when you looked down, lightly caressing it. “M-Micha...” 

“Go on,” he tilted your head to meet his gaze again, voice low yet firm. “Don’t be distracted.” 

Funny joke, you thought, again trying to veer this encounter in something more interesting––why did he think it’d be a nice idea in the first place? Especially when you were about to furiously grind–– 

“Uh uh... you stay still.” The hand on your hip squeezed in caveat, keeping you in place. Though his half-serious half-relaxed expression, totally not without teasing and mockery, made it clear that your whines and puppy eyes didn’t work. “Continue.” 

“I think mh... I have this little p-problem.” Your breath hitched as you started again monotonously, like playing the song you grew tired of. Seriously, if he had just wanted to tease you, he could’ve gotten a better excuse than your ‘concerning’ state. 

“What problem?” he pressed on your clit, feeling the way your walls clamped on him, your bitter face got weaker, more pathetic, and warmer (in contrast of chilly air of the room, leaving shivers at the nape of your neck). 

“I don’t mean to be rude w-when this happens,” you thread carefully: thoughts began to process slower, be it this plume of lust gradually taking over you mixed with this heavy feeling in your chest––funny sensation, to be fair. “I-I know I isolate when I, M-Micha, f-feel this way...” 

“Poor thing... how do we help you if you keep doing it?” 

Something about being pitied that way, your struggles acknowledged with a badge of honour, light condescension and a pinch on your clit, shoot sparks of pleasure through your body, as you writhed in Michael’s hold––you could be not a better person but you had an incredibly hot boyfriend! 

“They don’t... but I wish–– a-ah! W-wish they stayed...” you shuddered, squeezing the cock inside you that it only added to the stimulation. You closed your eyes behind fluttering eyelids, focusing on this sweet sensation that was about to melt. “I’m close, Micha!”  

And then he withdrew his fingers, leaving you whining pathetically. 

“Sit still,” Kaiser reminded you, not giving you a bit of friction against your aching clit! 

“B-bastard...” you muttered in his shoulder, pulsing longingly. 

“Me? I stayed, unlike them. I’m anything but bastard, liebling,” Michael chuckled, like you said the most funny joke, tilted your face, chin accommodated between his thumb and index finger, slight look of disappointment shown on his face. “You didn’t finish your story. Speak up.” 

You stayed silent in protest, only occasionally whimpering at the fading feeling in your core, but unable to retain like that for too long––in the end, he was in control of your pleasure! And especially today when he was extra gentle with his touches (and extra mean with his teasing!) 

“So... I also don’t like that they t-treated me this way...” 

Kaiser could go for hours like that. There was something fun in this repetitiveness––push and pull––and the way he played this game was nasty. 

The slick was oozing from your hole, running down his shaft, staining both of your thighs, while it seeped down his velvet robe; your pussy clenched so tightly and so many times, it remembered every vein and ridge, shaping to its mould. You were trembling uncontrollably, hips desperately trying to move in the sync to the waves of pleasure, scrapping your nails all over Micha’s chest and shoulders. That was all you wanted to think about. Micha and only Micha! 

He didn’t change a bit in his attitude: still composed even if his dick was suffocated and drowned in your juices, still demanding and keeping you talking like a doctor with a nearly conscious patient, pulling you out of the trance. He was devouring all your sweet reactions, all this frustration––both mental and sexual––until he heard your voice. 

“D-don’t stop! D-don't! Please please please I beg!” You were so sensitive, your clit was so sensitive to his touch, throbbing and aching, it was merciless to torture it like that! 

The way it broke at the end, and he forced you to look him in the eye and see the reddishness under the thick layer of tears. 

A little more, he thought, quickening his fingers’ pace, until he knew you were close; he knew better than anyone when you were, he mapped out all your reactions, the same ones he was drinking in. 

You were close... he could feel it, hear it, see it. 

Time to retrieve. 

He attentively watched your face, finally contorting in desperation, first broken sobs leaving your mouth, and the most important––pearly tears running down your cheeks.  

You broke down. And he couldn’t help but feel so aroused. So cruel, so gross, but so hard. His cock twitched inside you. 

“M-Micha, you’re sooo sniffle mean!” you cried, finally. “It hurts!” 

“What hurts, shatz?” his velvety voice remained so soothing, so patronising, so pitying. As if it wasn’t him ruining you with this smile creeping up, as if it wasn't his voice making you clamp on his shaft even more.  

“Everything! It’s s-so unfair, so unfair, so unfair!!” You sobbed in his robe, smearing tears and snot against the expensive fabric. “They’re unfair, you’re unfair!” 

Pretty cries echoed in his ears, like a nice symphony, before you boldly bit into his neck, sinking teeth deeply in the blue rose, the same rose that kept you in place. What would give him more pleasure than drive you into even bigger tears? 

“Poor baby, they treated you like that.” And he treated you better, of course he did, something he must remind you. He cupped your face, wiping your tears away. He loved the way he didn't even have to rise his voiceor come up with insults to make you cry even more—one of his favourite things in psychology. 

You nodded. 

“I-I can’t go on... M-Micha" 

“Shh... you can, you’ve been such a good girl for me.”  

He leaned closer, enough to steal a kiss, though he didn't aim for your puffy lips, but for your tear-stained cheeks. Boldly, he ran his tongue along the wet paths, moist muscle went up until it met your fluttering eyelashes. Salty, he thought. 

“I can’t I can’t I can’t!!” You writhed in the thorns of blue rose that kept you in place, trembling body pressing against his. You felt velvet against your sensitive, hardened nipples, shuddering once again—all of your senses screamed! 

“Just a little more…”  

You exhaled inconsistently but when you tried to focus on pleasure, a few more tears spilled down your cheeks.  

Reaching that point where the borderline between pleasure and pain was washed out, once Kaiser again touched your abused bundle of nerves. It was gross—the thought repeated in his head, circling back and forth. 

As more blood rushed to his raging cock at the sight of you falling apart, his head started to fill with questions: is he sick in the head? Making you— his only lover, the one who accepted him, the one he was supposed to protect—cry, feeling this twisted satisfaction. 

He kissed your eyelids, grip on you slightly loosened, as he nudged his hips upwards, seeing you shudder at the lightest movement. Maybe it was guilt overcoming his desire. 

“Okay, pretty girl, enough for you.” 

With these words he carefully flipped you onto your back, hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles, as he started to thrust and hit your sweet spots, already so sensitive you spill tears like nothing!  

“Shhh, you know I love you, right?” Kaiser buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling your hand tangling in the blond locks. 

The hands behind your trembling knees bended your legs, hearing your squeals growing louder with the new angle, repeating his name over and over till it was drilled into the back of your skull. 

“M-Micha, I l-love you!” You managed to choke out mid sobs, making his heart swell with this unfamiliar feeling, that made his pace erratic—he, too, had to tease himself throughout the evening.  

“Come, Maus.” He groaned, pressing down on your tummy. 

You came violently: eyes rolled behind the skull, cries mixed with dirty slick sounds, while Michael spilled his seed inside your clenching heat. 

Gasping for air, you came down from your high—it was lighter, now that this mysterious pressure in your chest was gone. You were fucked out but relieved. Nice sensation accompanied with sore muscles. The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Kaiser’s analytical gaze.  

“Are you okay?” He fixed your mussed hair. “Do you need another round?” 

“Fine... phew... no more.” 

So he scooped you in his arms, laying down with you on top of him, head resting on his toned chest. 

“Enough tears for pretty girl?” 

“Yeah... it's easier to breathe,” you muttered at his teasing, before turning your head to look in his eyes, gaze softening as well as your voice, “Thank you, Micha” 

“shh.. Just rest. You can thank me later.” 

Kaiser really tried his best when it came to his relationships. And if he could help you his own way, why wouldn’t he give a shot?