#MASOCHISM

[support]

Everything okay?

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone. There are many support services that are here to help. For 24/7 peer support and other resources, message KokoBot on Tumblr.

If you are in the United States, please try:

National Suicide and Crisis Lifeline or dial 988 or (en Español)

The Trevor Project (LGBT crisis intervention) or dial 1-866-488-7386

Trans Lifeline or dial 1-877-565-8860 (en Español)

The National Domestic Violence Hotline or 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

Rape Abuse & Incest National Network or 1-800-656-HOPE (4673)

S.A.F.E. Alternatives for Stopping Self Abuse or 1–800-DONT-CUT (366–8288)

National Eating Disorders Association

If you are outside the United States, visit IASP to find resources for your country.

For more resources, please visit our Counseling & Prevention Resources page for a list of services that may be able to help.

[valtsv]

so i’m curious about your enjoyment of pain as someone who also enjoys it. do you like all types of pain? what’s the like. intensity cut off? do you have favorite and least favorite pain sensations? for me personally i sort of like getting zapped, and also getting lightly burned, but not enough to actually leave a burn if that makes sense? like the sensation of having something slightly too warm pressed against my skin for too long is nice but i can’t stand actually healing from a burn wound (there was one time i literally couldn’t sleep due to a burn on my thumb). also bruises are nice. like pressing on them. but i absolutely can’t do cramps of any kind. anywayyyyy i curious about your opinions <3

JAMES CEMETERYTHING PAIN ASSESSMENT (or: i am asking you to get weird with it):

DISCLAIMER: this is a subjective account of my personal experiences with pain, and not intended in any way to dismiss other people's perfectly valid personal experiences, or to promote self-harm or violence towards oneself or others. obviously your body is yours to do with as you wish, but i accept no responsibility for those choices you make. please be kind to yourselves and each other.

- bruises: friendly short-term companions that occasionally stiffen, ache and throb in response to movement and touch. they have pretty privilege but fortunately i like that in a wound.

- scratches: zingy, sharp, and refreshing. like biting into a ripe but still sour berry. sometimes they swell up a little while they're healing. these are the best kind of scratches because they have tenderness and texture that's fun to touch.

- cuts (ie: anything deeper than a scratch, but not puncture/impaling wounds): the pain has a more intoxicating, overwhelming effect than scratches, which can be a good or bad thing. temptingly slippery and reactive to touch, but the risk of infection is a looming threat that takes some of the fun out of the act. cleaning them out can be an enjoyable compromise.

- incisions, stitches, and other consensually inflicted forms of wound (eg: tattoos): the choice and intention you have in the matter makes them more satisfying to experience, and your body's reactions (tensing, gritting your teeth, and breathing sharply through the waves of pain running through your body from the focal point of entry) can be exciting to bear witness to if you allow yourself. please engage in this one responsibly and safely.

- broken bones: immediately nauseating, but the dull ache of a healing bone after it's fractured has an almost comfortingly omnipresent quality to it that i find myself nostalgic for when it's gone. the occasional shooting pains you get when you move wrong, however, are too fleeting and sharp to really enjoy.

- muscle/joint injuries and pains: sickening and hateful. they burrow too deep to easily root out, but remain close enough to the surface to make you feel clumsy and unwelcome in your own body; a throbbing tumour ejecting waves of pain into the world. demanding and ungrateful, relieving them is the only thing they're good for. a notable exception is muscle aches from pleasurable/satisfying experiences, which carry that muscle memory and can redeem themselves in the process.

- headaches: really depends on where and how intense they are. i kind of enjoy the headaches that build behind my eyes, and will roll them and blink exaggeratedly to send little starbursts of pressure-release shooting through my skull. headaches that gather around my temples or build at the bridge of my nose, on the other hand, are unwelcome intrusions.

- impaling/puncturing wounds: perhaps a controversial opinion, but the penetrative aspect is probably the least interesting part to me. the aftermath - having a foreign object lodged inside you, surrounded by shrieking nerves declaring their resentment at the intruder, or a vacant hole of emptiness and strange new sensation where once was untouched flesh - is when things really start to get exciting.

- burns/debridement: generally considered the worst kind of pain, and i'm somewhat inclined to agree. it's hard to find much of a silver lining in having your skin flayed from your body layer by agonising layer. i think it's down to a similar issue to the one muscle cramps present - you're too trapped in the mundane misery of having a body, with no adequate distraction or fascination to make up for it. i do find the way that they heal to be interesting, though. the itching and oozing and peeling is by no means pleasant, but it is a disgustingly welcome relief from what came before. and the shiny new or scarred skin left behind feels like a kind of victory medal. a badge of endurance.

[boycorruption]

never ever beating the masochist allegations i need to be bruised and bleeding and throbbing from it

[duskydrawings]

This is a quick tribute to my epic 9-hour path of pain attempt that ultimately got kingsmoulded 

UPDATE: I FINALLY DID IT YIPPEEEEEE oh my god I’m never doing that again EVER

[bouncybongfairy]

Pretty Please?

Rick Sanchez x Fem Reader

Summary: Summer asks you to pet sit her hamster while her family goes on vacation. Of course, you agree because you're such an amazing friend. Definitely not because you and her grandpa would have the entire house for yourselves.

Word Count: 2.0k+

TW: Intox Kink, Worship Kink, Masochism, Dumbification, Nasty Smut

Best Ref Account Ever: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were sitting with your friend group, eating lunch in the quad. Quite boring, the whole school seemed to be yearning for the end of the day. Summer was bragging about the ski trip her family would be leaving for, after school. In all honesty you truly couldn’t care less, happy for her, just not interested. Picking at your salad that had gone soggy as she went on and on. 

“Do you think you could do me like a real solid?” she asks, resting her hand on your shoulder. 

“What is it?” you asked with a sigh. 

“Well, I need someone to come and feed my hamster while I'm gone. I was hoping because you're like, my best friend ever, if you would do that for me?” she asked, trying hard to butter you up. 

“You want me to drive back and forth to your house to mine for 3 days?” you asked, trying to knock some sense into her. 

“Oh my god obviously you can stay in my room,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully. 

“Ugh isn’t your grandpa going to be there?” you asked. 

“Yeah but he won’t come out of the garage. Please I’m literally begging you,” she pleaded, “What if I leave you an eighth of bud?” she whispered in your ear. 

“Make it a quarter and I’ll do it,” you said, which delighted her beyond belief.

As soon as you got home, you started packing your bags. Starting to slightly regret ever agreeing to pet sitting. Folding your clothes and placing them neatly in your duffle. Suddenly it occurred to you that her grandpa would be home. Of course in front of Summer you put on a front like him being there would gross you out. When in reality every time you slept over at her house, you would find yourself staring at him. Taking in all his little details; like how far he spreads his legs when sitting on the couch. Or how his eyes dilate when he’s a little more than tipsy. Your mind started wondering about all the possibilities of how your visit would go. It wasn’t something you felt shame about. You had already made your way through all the halfway decent guys at your school. To be quite honest you’ve wanted to hookup with an older guy for a while. All the dudes you’d been with are just so inexperienced and you were tired of that. 

Summer and her mom picked you up. She needed to show you around before leaving. Helping you with the bags, the two of you make your way to her bedroom. Where she gave you the weed she promised, even leaving her bong for you to smoke with. Showing you how to work the T.V and of course introducing you to Mr. Man the hamster. You laughed for a good five minutes over the name. Once she headed out with her family, you immediately started rolling up. Dumping the guts out her window, landing in Jerry’s garden, you felt bad but not really. As soon as you took a few hits off the blunt, you noticed it was strong. Giving you an intense head high, it did make you feel more relaxed. For a moment you were certainly feeling out of place. Getting bored, you start shuffling through your bag, looking for pajamas to wear. Immediately your mind went to Rick, thinking about what pare he would like the most. When you first got to the house, it felt wrong to think about him that way. After smoking, you really didn’t give a fuck. Even if Rick told Summer which is highly unlikely because.. Ew. Losing Summer’s friendship in exchange for hooking up with Rick sounded like a fair deal. You only took a couple hits off the blunt, after putting it out, you tuck it behind your ear. Making sure to stuff the lighter in your sock for safe keeping. Grabbing the hamster food, you put a couple scoops into his bowl. 

“You’re such a cute little guy, i’m about to fuck your great-grandpa. Don’t tell mommy,” you baby talked to him through the glass while giggling. 

Wearing a white oversize t-shirt with socks, you make your way down stairs. Hoping to run into him, the first place you checked was the kitchen. Even though you didn’t find him, it was a prime opportunity to raid the fridge. Taking a jar of pickles out and setting them on the counter before opening the freezer. Finding a dark green bottle with a white label with big X’s across it. Bringing it out and setting it on the counter with a crisp -clank- sound as the glass hit the counter. The bottle opened with a loud pop which made you giggle a bit. You brought it to your nose and immediately recoiled at the pungent aroma. 

“Smells like fucking rubbing alochol,” you mutter to yourself, grabbing a cup and pouring some. 

It wasn’t like you were a stranger to alcohol, you’d been drunk plenty of times. Thinking it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, you chug what you had in the cup. You truly felt like the wind was knocked out of you. The coughing and gasping was only making your chest burn more. Taking a few sips of water from the sink to help wash it down. Similar to the weed, the effects of the alcohol were coming on quick and strong. Your cheeks were flushed and you no longer were worried about appearing sober. A gasp of excitement falls from your lips as you remember the existence of the pickles. Your mouth was salivating as you pulled one out of the jar. 

“What are you doing?” a rough voice rang through the kitchen from the doorway. You jump, turning around to face him. 

One of the first things you noticed about him was how tall he was. Seriously, his head nearly hit the fucking ceiling. Eyes had thick, dark circles underneath them; this only added to his grumpy edge-lord vibe. He was wearing a wifebeater tank that was smudged with black soot. Shamelessly staring at the dick print on his pants. 

“I'm pet-sitting for Summer,” you said, unable to hide your giggles. He started walking towards you, till he was literally less than a foot in front of you. This wipes the smile off your face, he reaches out and grabs the bottle that was sitting on the counter behind you. 

“You drank this?” he asked, his breath smelled just like the bottle. 

“Yeah -hiccup- sorry, but is it okay if I have another sip?” you asked while reaching for the bottle. At first, Rick held it out of your reach but then changed his mind. Taking a few swings from the bottle and then handing it to you. His hand just barely touched your chest as he gave you the bottle. Instantaneously making you wet, well.. wetter. 

“If you wanna drink yourself sick that’s your choice,” he said before turning and walking back to the garage. 

Not quite done shooting your shot, you follow him. Due to the room being made entirely of concrete, it was freezing. It was then that you remember how little clothing you had on. 

“Out!” he called out. 

“I’m scared and lonely all by myself in there, pretty please let me stay?” you asked, which made him turn towards you. You could feel the heat build in your belly as he approached. 

“Awe you’re just so scared? I think it’s slightly endearing how you’re trying to play innocent but I know a whore when I see one. No offense but you’re low hanging fruit,” he said, now towering over you with a smirk on his face. 

“Fuck if you don’t wanna fuck me then why are you saying these thing, making me drip down my thigh?” you asked, reaching down to hook your hand onto his belt. He smacks your hand away before responding, 

“I’m a fucking god, I have queens on thousands of planets offering their ass to me on a plater. Why would I stick my dick in you?” he asked. In response you poured out some of the bottle onto the floor, right onto his shoes. At first he looked livid, like he was going to lay into you but you interrupted him,

“Oops sorry I can be so dumb at times, let me clean that for you,” you said, getting onto your knees and bringing your tongue to his shoes. Licking the alcohol off them while looking directly up to him. He chuckled, like he was humored by your actions. 

“Judging by how you’re throwing yourself at me, I bet you were craving my cock for weeks. Every time you’re here I always notice you staring at me, who would’ve known you had such nasty thoughts behind those pretty little eyes,” he said, tilting his head as he watched. Taking the blunt out from behind your ear and placing it between his lips. 

“May I light that for you?” you asked, pressing your cheek to his shoe, trying your best to flash your doe eyes. 

He used his finger to call you up. Scrambling to your feet, you pull the lighter out of your sock. Bringing the flame to his face, admiring his features in the orange glow. He looked so powerful and strong, you wanted him to tear you apart. He blew the smoke directly into your face, you took a playful bite out of the cloud. Grabbing the bottle from you, he pours more onto his shoes. You took his hint and went back down, now licking the bitter liquid off his other shoe. Taking you off guard, he brings his other foot and presses the soul into your neck. At first you were giggling, liking the way he was degrading you. This was until he began adding more pressure onto your airway. Even as you were gasping and wheezing, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him. The way his jaw went razor sharp while exhaling a cloud of smoke. Watching his facial expression twist from a small smile to full on beam. Your vision was becoming blurry and a familiar burning sensation radiating in your chest. 

Finally removing the pressure from your neck, coughing as you regain your full consciousness and breath. He bent down and pulled you up to your feet. A mixture of inebriation and lack of oxygen to your blood made him need to support your weight partly. He grabbed your shirt and lifted it above your head and threw it to the ground. Still slightly light headed, he grabbed your jaw so he could stare directly into your eyes. Reaching his other hand down, and feeling the wetness between your folds. You shudder and let your mouth fall open, now fully aware. He was shocked by how wet you were. Completely untouched and being treated like an absolute dog and you were still hanging on to his every touch and word. Staring at him, half-lidded and willing to take anything he gave you. This was enough to send him into a feral state. Without saying anything he picked you up and bent you over the desk. He used his foot to push your legs apart. Bringing your arms behind yourself, using your hands to spread yourself open.

“Holy shit you’re such a deranged little cocksleeve, you just eat my abuse up huh,” he said, pulling his pants down and fucking the entire length of his cock into your pussy. You cry out from him practically ripping you in half. Tears sting into your eyes and your legs that are on their tiptoes begin shaking. A mixture of moans and choked sobs spill from your mouth. He lifts your upper body from laying against his desk to being pressed against his chest. Using your throat to secure you there while whispering into your ear,

“What’s wrong slut, I thought you wanted this. You wanna stop? Maybe you can’t handle it,” he practically growled, still keeping himself fully inside you. 

“No. P-please,” you cried out, willing to do anything to get friction between your bodies. 

“Oh? You want me to keep tearing you apart? Beg me to,” he said, tightening his grip on your throat.

“Please, I w-want you to destroy me!” you screamed out, willing to do anything to get him fucking into you. 

Once the words left your mouth, he began pounding into you at an alarming rate. Your wetness was leaking down both of your inner thighs. Letting your body go limp, letting him do whatever he wanted. He kept your back pressed against his chest, admiring your chest bouncing as he killed your pussy. Feeling you stretch and tighten around his dick was driving him crazy. It was more than your physique that was satisfying him. It was the fact that you were so horny from being at his command and control. He liked how easy you were to manipulate, how willing you were to be turned into a braindead, cock hungry zombie. Feeling his orgasm nearing, his thrusts were becoming more erratic and sloppy. Fucking into you so hard that sound was involuntarily being forced out of you with every thrust. As you begin to cum, you start panting, completely blissed out. Feeling your cunt clamp down on his cock as you rode out your orgasm sent him over the edge. Filling you with hot cum, spilling out the sides of your pussy. After the encounter you completely blacked out, passed out. He let you stay slumped over that portion over the desk. Cum still leaking out of your abused hole. Simply pushing your body over to the side slightly after pulling his pants up. Reliting the blunt and ashing onto your ass before continuing working on his latest project.

[artyandink]

amoralism | seven

Summary: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Agent Dean Winchester (yes, he’s a warning in itself), mention of murder, murder, Knights of Hell but they’re just murderous humans, fantasising, description of injuries, use of firearms, a mole in the FBI, office shenanigans, Azazel, Asmodeus, crime syndicates, Crowley MacLeod, Rowena MacLeod, fluff, bullet wound problems, angst, pressure, bandage changes, fluff, making out

Song Inspo: We Go Down Together by Dove Cameron and Khalid

SERIES MASTERLIST

masochism

Dean Winchester during a bandage change was a cocky son of a bitch.

“This is romantic, ain’t it?” He flashed his pearly whites, his bare torso in all its rippling biceps, glowing skin and distracting chest glory would be a delicious sight had you not looked lower and seen the hole in his side that dampened the view of his glorious abs. “Patchin’ me up after I heroically saved the British consulate.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Shush.” You had half a mind to slap his perfectly sculpted shoulder, but instead you continued the cleaning of the bullet wound before applying the gauze and beginning to wrap the bandage. “Even when you’ve been shot, you’re still an ass.”

“Yeah, I know I’ve got a great ass.” Dean chuckled, smirking and raising an eyebrow, before his lips curled into a grin that made you want to kiss it off until he was senseless. As soon as you’d clipped the bandage, he gave your ass a small slap. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled, shaking your head in amusement as you put away the supplies.

“I am very welcome.” He chuckled, checking you over as you turned back around. “Finally got a hot nurse after all this time- mm.” Dean puckered up, his eyes closed on impact and eyebrows raised before his lips became pliant and accepting of your every movement. His hand lifted to cradle your jaw, other delicately grasping your waist and pulling you to stand between his legs. “Mmh.” He hummed again, tilting his head and sliding that hand on your waist to grab the crook of your knee and hitch your thigh up.

You noticed that this wasn’t like the demanding, hot kiss you were given a few days ago before Dean got your clothes off and ravished you. It had the same kind of intensity that had one hand of yours gripping his bicep and the other on the side of his neck, the same dizzying feeling. His lips were soft, pliable, and now that you two were almost fully clothed, you could focus on the scent of his cologne and the earthy aroma that made your head spin.

The taste of coffee and the telltale notes of beer on his tongue flooded your own mouth just as his hand pushed into your hair, winding the soft strands around his fingers. And, like an exchange, he found the flavour of gazpacho and your raspberry chapstick. Odd combo, but he didn’t hate it.

Pulling back slightly, he stole a few more kisses, one, two, three, and then pulled back slowly, his nose nuzzling yours for a moment before taking a good look at yours.

It would have been a romantic moment had he not ruined it with his cocky grin.

“Well, hello, nurse.” Dean winked, then stole one more soft kiss from you, his eyes fluttering shut and so did yours. Once he disconnected, neither of you let go just get. Your hands stayed right where they were, his holding you to him. One in your hair, the other on the small of your back. “Does this mean…”

“I wanna try us out. I really do.” You murmured, then scoffed lightly. “Cause God, with all the failures we’re having, I just need one win. One.”

He hummed, reaching to hold your chin gently. Letting his lips meet yours again with a gentleness that you never knew he had in him. Less claiming and more coaxing into the intoxicating thing called his arms, and then he pulled away and in true cliché, romance movie/book fashion, tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and let his fingers curl around your chin.

“I’ll try my damned hardest to make this a win for you, sweet girl.” Dean murmured, green eyes boring into yours with the faintest smile on his pouty lips. “A big win.”

You took the leap of faith into his strong arms, allowing him to hold you, his chin on your head since he was sitting on the windowsill and was therefore taller. His hands gripping you like you were his in a less possessive, more intimate way. His. It was an easy pill to swallow. “It’s already a big win. A fuckin’ big one.”

He hummed, nodding slightly. “That’s my girl.”

“This isn’t any odd places we’re walking into.” You briefed Dean, strolling through the hallways of a high up company. “This is a company owned by a very wealthy mother and son. Mother looks younger than she is, Son looks older than he is. Don’t question it. Rowena and Crowley MacLeod. They’re our undercover contact that our syndicate thinks they bought out. They’re actually on the FBI’s payroll.”

“But still high up.” Dean noted, nodding and taking a look at you. You looked hot as hell when you were all business. Reminding him to also keep on business.

You pointed at him with a nod and a click of your tongue. “Exactly. They’re rich, Scottish, and very full of themselves.”

“The trifecta.” He quipped in amusement. “How’d we get so lucky, eh, baby?”

“Refrain from pet names in the workplace.”

“Ok.” Dean chuckled, low and rich and- stop turning on. Stop. “Darlin’. Sweetheart. Sweet thing. Pretty girl-”

“Oh, shush.” You grinned, but just as you were about to step into the office of Crowley MacLeod, Dean gently took your arm, bending so his breath hit your ear.

“Wouldn’t say no to a post-meetin’ quickie, you know.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you cleared your throat. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure you won’t think.” An open mouthed, slow kiss on your pulse sending it racing at the speed of Mach 1. Oh, boy, you were already regretting your decision. It would be on the coroner’s report: death by Dean Winchester’s lips and voice.

“I- you-” Yet another clearing of your throat. “Business. Interview. Late.” It was all you could get out - rather pathetically - and you knocked sharply on the door, which was promptly opened by a short lady with bouncy red hair and smoky eyeshadow that looked strangely amazing.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly, with a subtle pump of his eyebrows. Damn, you weren’t kidding when you said she looked younger than she was. Might be an understatement, actually.

“Oh, Fergus, your nine o’clock’s here.” She called to someone further into the room, before running her eyes over your office suit with a red-lipped smirk. “Loving the suit, lass. You’ll have to give me the details of your tailor. Always fancied me a power suit.”

Your hands instantly went to the lapels of your suit, straightening them out unconsciously, as you stuttered out a ‘thank you’.

Then her eyes turned on Dean and- did she just… playfully growl? “You’re a right sight for sore eyes. And especially for a lady who has to look at her son all day, it’s a nightmare.”

“Mother, stop flirting with the agents.” A voice that sounded generally done and generally suave became louder, and then came an equally short man (but taller than his mother) strolled into your line of sight. Power suit, beard.

Rowena and Crowley MacLeod.

“Agent singular, Fergus.” Rowena corrected pointedly, poking Dean’s shoulder. “This one’s a catch.”

“Mother.”

“Alright, I’ll go back to my motherly duties.” She rolled her eyes playfully, then smiled at Dean again through her eyelashes. “If you’re not already taken by this lass,” Rowena nodded to you, “do call me.” Then she sashayed off, leaving you both with a very strong impression.

Dean didn’t know whether to feel flattered or possessive of you. Women just kept flirting with him. Older women, more notably. Was that commendable?

“Alright, now that she’s not here to ruin business, let’s do business.” Crowley sighed, beckoning you both into his large office. Glass on two walls, very minimalistic. A few chairs, one long table with chairs - presumably for business meetings - and one smaller - again, glass - desk with crystalline glasses and a bottle of the good stuff. “You’re here about Hell.”

“That’s right.” You nodded, folding your arms. “What do you have to tell us?”

“Depends on what you want me to tell you.” He poured himself a whiskey, looking to the both of you. “Fancy some?”

Dean’s hand raised. You slapped it down.

“Uh, right.” Dean cleared his throat, glancing to you. C’mon, baby, you’re meant to be on my side here. “We’re lookin’ for names. Anyone who could be tied to… Hell.” He gave a brief, tight-lipped smile.

“If you’re looking for names, I’d probably draw up a mile long list.” Crowley chuckled amid a sip of his Jack Daniel’s. “Hell used to be a New York unit. Now they’ve bought out places in almost every US state, Washington DC included. Nobody’s safe.” Then he paused. “I can tell you their structure.”

“That’d be helpful.” You added, gesturing for him to continue, watching and listening very carefully.

Crowley took a moment to swirl his whiskey. “Well, there are first merely the followers. Bottom feeders, not so much high rankers. They listen and they follow, and that seems to be their only purpose. In Hell, they’re classified as ‘demons’. Then it’s the elite strike squad, all codenamed. They’re called Knights of Hell. Highly trained individuals handpicked from the masses of ass kissers to do necessary assassinations. From what I understand, you’ve already got one in the Supermax.”

“Abaddon.” Dean confirmed, his brow furrowed slightly.

“That one. She’s bloody batshit.” Long sip of whiskey. “Cain’s dead, so I won’t bother to mention him. There’s Abraxas, who recently killed one of your colleague’s wife and kid.”

Nick. Oh, God. But… why would a Knight of Hell order a hit on a woman and baby?

Crowley clicked his tongue. “Corvinus, Jodohr, Urxehl, Andras, Furcas and Morax. Those are the other Knights of Hell. They could destabilise entire governments overnight. They just haven’t destabilised the US government because they’re too busy getting the entirety of America under their wraps.”

“Anything else?” You asked, a million of these details noting in your head as he spoke. It was almost militaristic. They had a ranking system.

“Then you have the Princes of Hell. Most of them are in high-security prisons across the globe. But the ones who weren’t stupid are still active. Asmodeus, Azazel and Dagon. Asmodeus leads the Knights of Hell and the land charges. Dagon handles personal matters, like overseas contact and property protection. By property, I mean humans under Hell’s control. And Azazel, well, he handles the trafficking. Drug rings, recruitment, suicide bombings, crowd control… if it’s important, he handles it.”

You and Dean exchanged looks. For Azazel. The words that came out of every SB’s mouth. So he was behind those. For what, publicity?

“Then there’s our boss.” Crowley grimaced, rolling his eyes. “They call him Lucifer. And apparently, he’s a dick. He makes the business deals, the threats, and he oversees everything. If there’s one person you wanna hit to take down the whole operation, it’s him. But you’re gonna have to work up the ladder.” He finished his whiskey. “There’s a lady who’s running drug trafficking through beauty pageants. She gets the ladies through to the last round and uses that clearance to make the drop. She’s a Latina, and her name’s Eleanor neé Romero.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach then leapt back up as if you were about to hurl it out. “Mom.” You whispered, your blood running cold. Upon hearing the name, Dean’s hand instantly found the small of your back. I’ve got you, sweetheart.

“You know her?” Crowley’s eyebrows raised a little, and Dean shook his head with a nervous chuckle.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't calm down a little and lean into his touch.

Tax fraud and evasion. Drug trafficking. Possession of illegal substances. Fraud in general. All things that you found your mom guilty of when you and your team did a thorough background check. It landed you in the hospital, the gown on, red patches on your neck and over your eye.

As expected, your mom rushed in, past Rick and Cassie. You felt sick to your stomach, and by the looks of it, your dad and sister were too, as they’d been told of the situation by Sam since you couldn’t do it. Dean was sat on a chair beside you, and he briefly nodded to Rick, giving a polite smile to Cassie. The latter of which surprised that you managed to snag a man that goddamn fine.

You were surprised too.

"My baby." Your mom whispered, sitting beside you in your hospital bed, smoothing back your hair. "God, look at you."

You rolled your eyes, prepared for the worst. After all, nothing more or less could be expected of your traditional mother other than personal comments to your appearance.

"Spit it out." You groaned. "I look like hell." You felt like you'd combust. You'd do it. Fragile china be damned.

“You’re hurt.” Her fingers gently traced your jaw, and she turned to Dean with teary eyes that had your stomach turn. “How did this happen? Who are you?” Though her glasses over eyes scanned Dean. Dios mío, that’s one handsome man.

“Uh, Agent Dean Winchester, ma’am.” Dean put out his hand for her to shake. “Major Crimes, I work with your daughter.”

“Oh-” The moment Eleanor’s hand linked with Dean’s, you got your gun from under the blanket, pointed it at her temple while Dean swiftly cuffed one of her wrists.

“You’re under arrest.” You said shakily, but kept determined anyway, and the look on your mom’s face said that she knew why she was busted. “For tax evasion, fraud, identity theft, possession of illegal substances, drug trafficking and exploitation.”

“Sweetie!” It was the first time your mom ever called you that. It stung, when you knew the only reason she did was to get you to break. Too bad, cause Dean already had her hands bound behind her back and had handed her over to Sam and Benny, who were waiting in the hallway.

You grabbed a wipe from the bedside table, cleaning off the makeup around your eye and on your neck, the red coming off onto it. This had been an undercover operation to get your mom. Of course, if she’d been told that her daughter was working on a case to take down the organisation she’d been working for, the wool would be ready to pull over your eyes.

Not today.

The door slammed shut behind you as you pushed Dean through the threshold of your bedroom, your lips locked fiercely with his. You almost fell forward with the force had it not been for his hands keeping you upright, your hands taking on a furious pace in shoving his suit jacket off, then tearing at his tie with fumbling hands. Dean let out a low moan, his brow furrowed in concentration as he began removing your clothes too, humming in between kisses.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He pulled back, getting his belt off and dropping it with a clunk on the wooden floor. Dean grinned, taking sight of your creamy skin once he'd undone your shirt, getting it fully off so he could kneading your tits over your bra as you got the rest of your own clothes off, sans underwear. "Don't know what's gotten into you, but I like it."

Dean was caught off guard by you shoving him onto the bed, landing with a small bounce and taken even more by surprise when you began kissing at his neck, your movements frustrated and even sloppy, your head pounding and breath almost coming in growls.

The sound would've had Dean raising an eyebrow had it not been for your lips trailing a dizzying line all over his neck, which had his own falling open in a groan that came from his very soul. His hands flying to grip your hips.

You paused for a moment, panting heavily into the crook of his neck while your hand flew to tug down the fly of his pants, being careful not to afflict his gunshot wound any damage, but it wouldn't come down.

"Damn thing-" You muttered under your breath, tugging at a force that had Dean's hand moving to grip your wrist before you broke it.

"Woah, easy, sweet thing." He cautioned, but then a drop of water fell on his chest, right on the anti possession tattoo thingy he and the boys at the office got after a case with a homicidal maniac who claimed to be a victim of demonic possession.

And another drop. Fuck.

"Shit," Dean's hand instantly cupped your cheek, lifting your head to face him and seeing tears running down your flushed cheeks, and even then you tried to dip back down to kiss his chest. "No, sweetheart, stop. Stop for a second, OK?"

You sobbed quietly, next thing finding yourself nestled into Dean's arms, your head tucked in the crook of his neck with his chin comfortably on your head. "Why can't anything go right?" Your hands were tightly holding onto him, and Dean's hand buried into your hair protectively, a small frown gracing his brow. "I can't even undo a stupid fly right, fuck all."

"I know, but you can't get all of that out like that, sweet girl." Dean pressed a kiss to your hair, massaging your scalp. "Talk to me, OK? I've got you."

“She’s my mom, Dean.” You croaked into his skin, and his arms tightened around you instinctively, a heavy sigh leaving him. “I know we didn’t have the best of relationships, but she-she was my mom.”

“You were so strong, darlin’.” He muttered, keeping his breathing even while your tears soaked his skin. “So strong. And I’m gonna do whatever I can to make it right, y’hear? I’m gonna do everythin’ in my power to make sure you get a win. We’re gonna catch the sons of bitches, put ‘em in the Supermax and everything’s gonna feel right again.”

You nodded into the crook of his neck, and he just gave you the time to cry, stroking your hair. “We don’t have to do anythin’ tonight.” Dean murmured with another kiss to your hair. “We’re gonna get comfy, and we’re just gonna relax. Can’t guarantee it’ll take your mind off today, but I just want you to feel better.”

The words surprised you. Dean didn’t care about the sex, or whether you just jumped him out of pure frustration- he cared about you.

And that meant everything.

NEXT UP:

“So, you’re the famous Agent Dean Winchester.” He smirked, stepping closer to Dean, who was looking up at him from his knees with the best ‘fuck you’ smile he could manage with his chin being held. “I knew your daddy. Hell of a man, he was, until I tarnished his name and got him fired from his precious job.”

Dean coughed slightly, then chuckled. “You must be the dick Azazel. Who nobody’s heard about.”

“They’ve all heard about me, boy.” Azazel chuckled, taking a look at the body on the ground. “Everyone in the United States. Cause my name’s on the suicide bombings, ain’t they? My name’s written all over the attack on the President.”

“I bet your name’s somethin’ really stupid.” Dean snickered, giving his best cheeky side eye. “Like Gerald. Or Emmanuel. I’m guessing you were that one kid who had no game in high school.”

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19 @deanbrainrotwritings

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@k-slla @muhahaha303 @suckitands33

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

@katherineeekai @freefallthoughts @angzls

To be added to any character’s taglist of mine , find my form on my master list.

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

[meiru-sama]

♡ Senpai !

This sh¡t contains: NSFW, masochistic tendencies, sub!character, dom!reader

You stared at the male infront of you. His face was red and flushed, he was sweating and slightly panting.

"(Y----Y/N)--" He spoke, his voice lingering with lust and desperation while he placed his trembling hand in the top of yours that was was currently brushing his inner thigh. You hummed in response while you playfully rose a brow.

"Yes senpai ?" You innocently asked like you arent stroking his inner thighs and his hard tent.

"Fuck---im supposed to nghh-- ah!" He let out a moan when you palmed his tent, still looking at him with such innocent eyes.

"Gosh, mister president ~ " you cooed while leaning on his ear making shivers run down his spine, he could feel your hot breath hitting his skin.

"What was the answer to the number 7 again? " you asked while glancing at the paper infront of him, he couldn't keep up to what you were saying, he was too focused on your hands stroking him up and down.

The male pushed his foggy glasses up to his nose before taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down.

He was about to open his mouth but a sudden moan came out of his mouth when you pushed your hands harder on his member.

"Mister president ~~" you moaned to his ear and he could feel his member hardening by your sweet moans. "Can we just not finish this ? I just want you to tie me down and fuck me rough~" you cooed before showering his neck with kissed. Oh, those dirty talks, the teasing, tying up, gosh he loves those even though he knew he's the one who'll ended up at the bed. Tied, crying and begging for more pleasure while you look down at him pathetically.

[astrostx]

i wasnt made to work, i was made to be kicked around or something. or to bark at the weird shapes outside the window.

[unforgivenn]

Masochist whumpee who messes up simple tasks to get hurt by their master. When whumper notices this they get very angry and decide to show whumpee what real pain feels like

CW: torture, masochism, sadism, emotional and physical abuse

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single bulb casting eerie shadows on the walls. Whumpee stood trembling, their fingers fumbling, either in excitement or fear over the broken vase pieces scattered on the floor.

They knew the routine by now, the cycle of mistakes and punishments that had become their twisted solace. They longed for the sharp sting of their master's wrath, the only connection they had left in this world.

Whumper entered the room, their eyes narrowing as they took in the scene. "Again?" They hissed, the word dripping with venom. "You can't even handle a simple task like this?"

Whumpee's heart raced, a mixture of fear and anticipation swirling in their chest. "I'm sorry, Master," they whispered, their voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to..."

Whumper's hand shot out, grabbing Whumpee by the collar and lifting them off the ground. "Don't lie to me!" they roared, shaking Whumpee violently. "You did this on purpose, didn't you? You want me to hurt you, don't you?"

Whumpee's eyes filled with tears, their breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, Master... I... I just..."

Whumper's grip tightened, their eyes blazing with fury. "You think this is pain? You think you know what real pain feels like?" They threw Whumpee to the ground, their voice low and menacing. "I'll show you what pain really is."

Whumpee curled into a ball, their body trembling as they awaited the inevitable. Whumper disappeared into the shadows, returning moments later with a thin, cruel-looking whip. They cracked it in the air, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.

"Get up," Whumper ordered, their voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Stand up and face me."

Whumpee struggled to their feet, their legs shaking uncontrollably. They met Whumper's gaze, a mixture of fear and desperate longing in their eyes. "Please, Master... I..."

"Silence!" Whumper snapped, raising the whip high. "You want pain? I'll give you pain."

The first strike landed with a sickening crack, the force of it sending Whumpee crashing to the ground. They screamed, the sound raw and guttural, echoing off the walls. Whumper didn't stop, the whip lashing out again and again, each blow more brutal than the last.

"Is this what you wanted?" Whumper snarled, their voice growing more frenzied with each strike. "Is this what you needed?"

Whumpee's screams turned to sobs, their body convulsing with each hit. They could feel their skin tearing, the blood flowing freely down their back. The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that consumed every inch of their being.

Whumper finally stopped, their chest heaving with exertion. They looked down at Whumpee, a twisted smile playing on their lips. "Now you know what real pain feels like," they said softly, their voice almost gentle. "Now you understand."

Whumpee lay on the ground, their body broken and bloodied, their mind a haze of pain and confusion. They had wanted this, hadn't they? They had needed this. But now, as the darkness closed in around them, they weren't so sure. The only thing they knew for certain was that they were completely, utterly alone.

Whumper wasn’t done. They dragged Whumpee by their hair to the basement, each step down the creaky stairs echoing with dread. The basement was a chamber of horrors, tools of torment meticulously arranged on the walls. Whumpee’s eyes widened in terror as they were shoved against a cold, metal table. Their wrists and ankles were strapped down with cruel efficiency.

"Now," Whumper said, their voice a chilling whisper, "let’s see how much you can really take."

They reached for a set of sharp hooks, dangling them in front of Whumpee's wide, terrified eyes. "no..." Whumpee pleaded, their voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.

Ignoring the pleas, Whumper pressed the first hook into Whumpee’s flesh, just below their ribcage. The hook dug in with a sickening squelch, and the guttural scream that escaped Whumpee was animalistic to say the least.

"Shh," Whumper cooed mockingly, twisting the hook slightly. "This is just the beginning."

Whumper moved with practiced precision, embedding more hooks into Whumpee's skin, each one drawing fresh screams and rivers of blood. Whumpee's body was a canvas of suffering, each hook a cruel reminder of their tormentor's power.

"Oh but whumpee.. Do you not enjoy this..?" Whumper cooed making whumpee shake their head so fast, that their ears started ringing. Or maybe that was because of the blood loss. They weren't so sure now.

"Why do you do this, whumpee?" The whumper's voice cut through the haze of pain, his words a cruel taunt. "Why do you crave this suffering?"

Whumpee could only whimper in response, their mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—fear, desire, and a twisted gratitude that they couldn't comprehend. The pain was relentless, a symphony of torment orchestrated by their own hand.

"Answer me!" The whumper's voice boomed, shaking them from their stupor. "Or do you need more?"

"I... I don't know!" Whumpee gasped, tears mingling with the sweat and blood on their face. "I just... I need..."

"You need me to show you what real pain feels like," the whumper finished, their voice low and chilling.

As Whumpee's screams subsided into weak, shuddering sobs, Whumper pulled out a thin, serrated knife. "You've been such a disappointment," they murmured, tracing the blade along Whumpee's thigh. "Maybe this will teach you to do better."

They carved slowly, deliberately, the knife slicing through flesh with a sickening ease. Blood pooled around Whumpee’s legs, the metallic scent mingling with the damp, musty air of the basement. Whumpee's cries grew weaker, their body wracked with uncontrollable shivers.

Whumper stepped back, surveying their handiwork with a satisfied grin. "You see," they said softly, "this is what pain really feels like."

Whumpee's vision blurred, their mind teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. The pain was a consuming fire, burning away any coherent thought. All that remained was a raw, unfiltered agony that left them broken and hollow.

As the darkness closed in, Whumpee’s last thought was a fleeting wish for an end to the torment, a desperate hope that they would never wake to face their master’s wrath again.

[bouncybongfairy]

Can you please do a live action jet x reader? Literally do whatever plot you'd like I just want smut for him so bad, thank youuu

Caught Off Guard

Jet x Fem Reader

Summary: On your way home from the market, Jet catches you by yourself. He loves a good chase before getting what he wants.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Knife play, CNC kink, Blood kink, Nasty Smut, Masochism Kink

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were walking home from the market. It was dark and navigating your way home through the dense forest was becoming increasingly harder. Your anxiety was running through the roof, worried you’d run into a fire nation soldier or a wild animal. Walking as fast as you could because hearing random noises makes you paranoid. Your breathing becomes harder, hearing the sound of metal clanking together, you drop your bags and start running. As you stop for a couple seconds trying to figure out where to go, someone drops down in front of you from the tree above. Falling to the ground from being taken so off guard. The first thing you noticed was the two hook swords hanging by his side. His head hangs low, allowing his shaggy hair to flop onto his forehead, covering his eyes. You stood up, scrambling to get your footing before taking off. 

“Go on, the chase is the best part!” You hear him call out. 

For a while you could hear the crunching of the forest floor as he chased you from behind. Eventually you have to stop running, giving yourself a second to catch your breath. Trying to be as quiet as possible even though you were doing a terrible job. Your mind was spinning and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. Waiting there for a couple minutes until you were fully settled. Little did you know Jet was watching from above, humored by the fact that you were letting your guard down. He drops down again, laughing at how scared you become, yet again. 

“Please, you can have all my bags that I dropped, they have my leftover money just please let me go home!” you pleaded. 

“This isn’t about what you have or money. I want power, and right now I have all the power in the world over you,” he said, using one of his blades to pin your long skirt to the forest floor. You pulled away hard enough that it sliced the fabric, letting you run once again. At this point, you were completely lost and disoriented. Unsure of whether to continue running or find a place to hide. Tears ran down your face, hearing him laugh as he chased. Becoming over exerted and stimulated, you stopped running. Unwilling to take the torment anymore, he chuckled as he walked towards you. Backing you up into a tree, pressing one blade between your legs and the other against your throat. 

“From the way you gave up so early, I'd say you’d wanted me to catch you,” he said, breathing hard into your ear. 

“Please,” you whisper out, gasping as he applies more pressure to the blade. Just barely breaking the skin, you began to squirm and shake. 

“Aww you’re shaking? That’s cute,” he said, finally pulling back on the amount of pressure the blade had on your throat. 

Keeping the sword that was between your legs in place and putting the other in its sheath. Using his free hand to trace your lip with tongue, eventually pushing the digit into your mouth. Gagging and pushing your tongue back, he would let out a small groan every time he made you gag on his fingers. For a second, you find yourself enjoying it before snapping back out of it. Biting down on his fingers as hard as you can, he yanks his hand away. Attempting to run but being stopped by the blade between your legs cutting your inner thigh. He grabs you by the hair, shoving you onto your knees. Immediately you go to tend the wound on your thigh. He grabs you by the chin, forcing your attention onto him. 

“Bite me again and I’ll slice your tongue out,” he growled, shoving your head back. Stepping onto both of your hands before unzipping his pants. Trying you best to get away but not being able to was making you panic. Revealing his cock, completely erect and pre-cum dripping off the tip. Trying to press past your lips but being stopped by you turning your head to the side. Being enraged by the audacity you had, he uses both hands and forces the back of your head against the tree. 

“You won’t be getting out of this sweetheart,” he chuckled before finally pressing past your lips and starting to fuck your mouth. 

Becoming dizzy from blood loss was starting to make you more pliable. Not fighting back as much, even at times leaning into these thrusts. He noticed this, once you stopped trying to free your hands from under his boots. Letting out a moan as he looked down at you. Saliva dripping down your chin and the sides of your mouth; eyes glossy and blinking slowly. 

“Awe see, I knew you’d learn to like it,” he teases, skull fucking you at a merciless pace. Pressing his pelvis hard against your mouth, pinning your head against him and the tree. Feeling him throb and spasm as he pumped cum down your throat. Grunting every time your throat involuntarily swallows around him. Once he finishes he pulls out, still holding onto your hair as you cried. 

“Fuck I don’t know if you think your tears make me pity you but they only make me want to fuck you more,” he said, pushing you onto your back. 

Climbing on top of you, securing your wrists above your matted hair. Lining his tip with your entrance, lifting your legs up for him to penetrate easier. 

“Mm, I knew you were a fucking whore,” he said, fucking into you. 

Feeling his dick stretch you open made you scream. The burning from how rough he was pounding into you felt good. Fully giving into his will as he used your body to please himself. Knowing you were too weak to fight back, he lets go of your wrists. Reaching down and grabbing a smaller knife that was fastened to his belt. Flicking it open and looking for the perfect place to mark you. Smacking your chest and pinching your nipples for a while before beginning the real fun. Carving his name across your chest, watching the blood start to drip down towards your shoulders. You were letting out a mix of moans, whimpers and cries as he did this. Still too drained from tightening and cumming around his cock. 

“I love feeling how greedy your hole is, just can’t get enough can you?” he said, dropping the knife and continuing to abuse your pussy until he came again. Pressing himself as deep as he could while he released inside you. Collecting his clothes and things, leaving you passed out on the forest floor.

[enviousmoons]

Girls who are nice and sweet as you kneel in front of them until you feel the sting of their first slap >>>>>

[uvexar]

Miyazaki being a masochist really explains all the violence that happens to bodies in Fromsoft games that goes completely unremarked-on by anyone, including the people having violence done to them. Elden Ring especially has so much self-harm as a power-up mechanism that it's basically a theme of the game.

[puppygirl-slimegirl]

evening. i would say good evening but if it was a good evening a hot woman would have me in a shock collar right now

[kira-habitualdyke]

See reblog

[boycorruption]

hmm having a sharp knife held against my throat and trailed along my major arteries while they shove a hand down my pants to feel me getting wetter and harder for them…

[febuary30thday]

"I'm above you, you pathetic demon."

Yan! Douma x GN! God! Reader. (Reader's gender is not specified. I will refer to you as a deity, but you are a god. Douma does refer to you one time as "goddess" but it's only once.)

Being a deity was boring, it really was. Sure, you had divine duties to attend to, but that was it. You didn't talk to the other deities, make friends, or anything like that, because it was a foreign concept and seen as abnormal. You couldn't believe you were saying this, but you envied humans.

Yes, yes, you know, it's disgraceful, but you can't help it. Deities are just like humans, except for..... okay, a lot of things, but that's not the point. The point is, you wanted friends, and you decided to pretend to be human, even if for a little.

Arriving in the human world, you take in your surroundings, and find out snowy mountain. How nice. Well, time to just walk around aimlessly. Or, hold on. Who was that?

"Hello? Who was that? I know you're there." You ready an attack, in case this person was a threat.

A woman steps out of the shadows, and smiles. "Hello, my name is Shikata Yue. Who might you be? Why are you on this mountain? It's quite dangerous out here, especially at night, when the temperature gets colder."

She beckons you to follow her. "Please, don't stay inside, I wouldn't want you to freeze to death. You should come to my house, then you can be on your way."

You follow her, knowing that she has good intentions, one of the perks of being a deity is you can sense intentions in people, and hers were good. She takes good care of you, and you stay with her for the night.

Yue asks you a lot of questions in the morning, sounding like an overbearing mother, which slightly annoyed you. You answered them the best you could, also making sure not to give any information that you were a deity. It took a very long time to learn how to hide your divine presence.

Yue was actually really kind and she let you stay with her under the guise that you would help her out. She was a traveling doctor, so, you traveled with her and helped her out. However, that all changed one day, when she decided to travel out on her own in the night. You had heard rumors of demons, but you had never seen one, but far too many people claimed demons existed for it to be wrong, so, you went searching for her.

When you went to look for her, you found her bowing in front of a man, who was sitting on a beanbag. You had learned that in Japan, people take off their shoes before entering a house, so you took off your shoes. The man greeted you, and you could instantly feel something was wrong. That was in no way anything close to the presence of a man, much less a human.

What was that Kanji in his eyes? Two....Upper? Upper 2? Wait, you had heard of this. Demons.....the Twelve Kizuki.....Uppermoons....and....Lowermoons. Right, he was a powerful, high-ranking demon, but you couldn't prove it. You had to wait.

Thankfully, Yue was now one of his "followers" and you had to become one as well, because you had to follow her. You had found out some outrageous information. These people genuinely believed that he was a deity. How dare they? You were a deity and that was an insult to all of the deities.

One night, however, you had watched him leave with Yue, and she looked smitten. She had admitted to loving him and wishing he'd court her, so you just played along and pretend to be devoted. It was disgusting. You followed them, and found him feeding on her. He was eating her, but not in the way she wished.

It was disgusting. You should've listened to your gut and killed him when you had the chance. But then it hit you, gods weren't allowed to interfere in human business. But you just couldn't stand here and do nothing.

You attacked him, and he didn't seem surprised, he was enthusiastic.

Douma had known all this time. You didn't feel like a human, but you weren't a demon either, so you had to be something else. You were an actual deity, on how his heart sang! You were so fake with your devotion, just like him! But the more he stalked hung around you because of his new and obsessive feelings for you, the more he started realizing what you were. You had this divine presence, even if it was faint.

When you attacked him, it came in full force. You strangled him and he didn't move, only smiling happily. You were putting his hands on him! You, a deity, were putting your hands on him! You thought him worthy enough to touch him! Oh, and what you said next made him nod in devotion, submissive toward your every whim.

"I'm above you, you pathetic demon."

He nodded happily. Yes, you were above him, and he needed you to live breathe, survive, and thrive, you were like a drug, and he wouldn't ever give you up soon. Then, you started to walk away. No. No! He couldn't let you leave.

He grabbed you and you struggle in his arms for a brief moment, surprised. He looked you dead in the eyes, still blushing from the close proximity.

"You can't leave me, my goddess, the Paradise Faith Cult needs someone to worship, and I have the perfect individual in mind."

You were a deity, deserving of worship, and now, meet your most devoted, obsessive follower, Uppermoon Two, Douma. Good luck.