#cw: previous noncon

[3amfanfiction]

idk if you’ll think this is OOC for simon in the darling and doll series but can you write moments where he was actually kinda sweet/loving to doll? the recent chapters made me feel bad for doll, she doesnt get enough love 😔

feel free to ignore if u dont want to write him a bit ooc

Hi nonnie, this is the best I could do without pulling him so far ooc that we would be talking about a different story. Shoutout to gouge for brainstorming help. I couldn't have done it without them

cw: aftermath of rape, lackluster first-aid, icepacks and haircuts. It's assumed that reader has shorter hair in this.

Simon x reader, part of the Doll and Darling series (this is a dark series, hurt/no comfort, so be aware before you dive in)

~~~~

You jerked back as something hit the bed.

The packaging crinkled. You stared with uncomprehending eyes, trying to figure out what was just thrown at you.

"I know I was too rough with you last night. So. There's an icepack," the man standing over you grumbled. He was frowning down at you, expression put-out that you needed medical attention at all, no matter how lackluster it was.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for it, pulling it in.

He huffed an exasperated breath as the seconds ticked on and you fiddled with it, trying to hold it gingerly to hinge of your hip to help with the pain only to flinch away when you pressed too hard. "It's just a fucking icepack, how do you not know how to use it?" He pulled it from your hands to press it firmly against your body, ignoring your wheezed gasp of air at the pressure against your tender ligaments.

He'd had you in all sorts of stress positions the night before. Pushing and pulling you this way and that. When the morning light had come, you'd barely been able to walk, having to content yourself to wallowing in bed in pain.

You were surprised at his gesture. This wasn't the first time he'd hurt you but it was the first time he'd done something about it. You were hesitant to look a gift horse in the mouth but at the same time you were wary of this kindness. Surely he would expect recompense. Something further he would take from you that you weren't even aware you still held.

Still.

"Thank you."

It was best to stay on his good side while he had one.

You sat there awkwardly as the pain in your hip slowly cooled. It had dulled to a low throb when Simon shifted, bending down to tug you up and over his shoulder.

Well, that was short lived, you thought bitterly as you hung upside down, staring at his back. You wondered what new horrors he had in mind now that he had adequately 'repaired' you.

He sat you down on the bathroom counter, the hard surface cold against your bare thighs. Watching as he bent over to rummage through the drawer, you wondered at your life. You never expected to end up here—held against your will by a man you now knew far too thoroughly. Life was supposed to work out. It was supposed to be this great adventure that you were on, something exciting and full of hope. Not exhausting and full of pain.

You flinched when he stood up. You couldn't help it. A minute twitch that he was sure to have seen. Because he saw everything. There was no hiding from him. And it was constant. An ever-watchful eye over your shoulder that never blinked, never slept, always seeing.

You were the watcher this time as he straightened and stepped closer to you, spreading your knees (slower when he saw your wince at your hip being moved) and stepping in between them. Your spine went rigid when you saw the pair of scissors in his hand.

"W-wait, what are you doing?"

"Hold still," he grumbled, grabbing your chin to keep you from jerking away. "Unless you want these scissors to end up in your eye, you won't move."

Your muscles locked up, spine rigid as you froze at the threat.

"That's a good pet."

Your eyes clenched shut involuntarily as the scissors got closer to your face, leaving you to twitch in surprise at the snip near your ear. You felt strands of hair fall, brushing your bare shoulder on the way down. You sat as still as you could, cradling him in the V of your legs as he looked down on you with a slight frown of concentration. Your eyes cracked open to take a peek at him.

"Why are you doing this?" you whispered through strangled vocal cords.

"Noticed you kept messing with it. Know you don't like your hair this long."

That's right. You'd almost forgotten the time he'd spent stalking you before he kidnapped you. The hours he'd spent outside your house or following you on your errands. He would've seen everything you did. Cataloged everything about you. Including personal appearance preferences.

It was almost sweet in a way. Not really but you could delude yourself into thinking that way. You could pretend that it was care and devotion that had him helping you with your leg and your hair. A concern for you welfare and emotional state. A desire to keep you happy.

You knew it wasn't true but it was fun to pretend. To sit still and let him cut your hair in this musty bathroom, strands falling all over the counter and floor. Shedding more of your DNA around this hellhole to be found if the police ever bothered to look. If they were ever pointed in Simon's direction.

His grip on your chin gentled as he turned your head this way and that. Tilting it as he checked his work.

You sat still, careful to only move in the way he wanted. Eager for this to be over but also thankful for the small kindness he was showing. It was still a relief when it was finally over. You took deep breaths for the first time in ages, filling your lungs and shifting.

Simon took a step back to look at you, "Good as new."

He picked you back up and moved you to the couch, throwing you down onto the cushions with a slight bounce. You winced and readjusted the icepack that was slowly warming against your leg.

Simon sat beside you, pulled you into his lap and turned on a footie match, reaching out to twist a pinch of hair back and forth between two fingers. If he would've been anyone else you would have snapped at him about putting knots in your hair. But it wasn't someone else so you stayed silent, letting him fiddle to his hearts content.

You found yourself slowly relaxing back into his heat, the warmth soothing on a fundamental level. But it was the steady rise and fall of his chest that finally lulled you to sleep, hopeful that this strange mood would continue. This softer Simon that you hadn't seen before. You hoped he stuck around.

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, soapgaz x reader, clubbing, implied noncon/dubcon - unedited - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

So, on your much anticipated vacation to Berlin, you got peer-pressured into clubbing? You can handle that. Your friend practically vanishing into the pulsing crowd with a kiss blown in your direction and an arm hooked around their waist, however…

Despite the alarms firing off in your mind, what else could you do but try to enjoy the night you paid for?

This train of thought is how you find yourself coated in sweat and grinding rhythmically against a big, stocky scot with an award-winning smile and a set of thick, wandering hands. The music is too loud to hear much of anything he says whenever he ducks towards your ear- which is often- but somehow you find out that his name is Johnny. 

His eyes are a bit wild- starting to make you a bit squeamish honestly, and just as you’re starting to look for a way out, there's a tap on your shoulder. 

You must’ve lived a previous life as a saint to deserve the face you’re met with when your head turns towards the touch, earning a whine from Johnny.

“This guy making you uncomfortable, love?” The stranger calls out with a blinding grin as his head bobs lightly in time with the DJ’s set.

You nod and attempt to pry yourself away from Johnny, only to be caged against him. 

“He does that,” the man laughs into your ear from behind, hips pressed into you and rocking as his hands finds your hips, right overtop Johnny’s. his thumbs slip under Johnny's palms with a fond familiarity and squeeze gently. ”-you’ll get used to it. Name’s Kyle, love.”

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes: A contents page!

The Kabr0z Writes series is a smut anthology that I am writing one per day, every day. Episodes will often not be related to one another, and will be clearly marked if they do.

Each part will have separate CWs at the top of the story, along with any author's notes I feel are pertinent. Please read these as tone veers wildly throughout

If you want to see something, and it doesn't look like it's been written already (or even if it does) please, please, please, send me an ask, a dm, anything, and I'll probably wind up writing it. 365 stories is a lot of stories! I need all the inspiration I can get!

Everything is OK to reblog, remix, copy, paste, whatever. Just please credit me if you do.

There's an Ao3 now as well!

Volume 2!

Volume 3!

#########################################

Episode 1: The First Time - in which masc!reader invites a man from the internet for oral sex

Episode 2: The Previous Tenant - in which a presence in a cheap flat invades fem!reader's dreams, then body

Episode 3: A Very Bad Idea; Part 1 - in which fem!reader and a close friend dabble in demonology

Episode 4: A Very Bad Idea; Part 2 - in which things go from bad to worse

Episode 5: A Very Bad Idea; Part 3 - a moment of tenderness, then bad medicine, then mad science, a feeling we haven't seen the last of this

Episode 6: Wedding Dong - Fem!reader goes to an old friend's wedding, meets another old friend, and has a roll in the rhododendrons

Episode 7: The Rowing Team - in which fem!reader attends a party, and gets ganged up on in more ways than one

Episode 8: Concerning Portals - in which fem!reader wears some mysterious underwear on the bus. It turns out to be a bad idea

Episode 9: Farm Work - In which Fem!Reader has a really bad day, culminating in being livestock on a hucow farm, with some added TF fun thrown in

Episode 10: Debt, part 1 - In which Fem!Reader agrees to 3 nebulous tasks in return for enough money to cover her mounting debts

Episode 11: Debt, part 2 - Professor Blaidd takes Fem!Reader to a party, as the main course

Episode 12: Debt, part 3 - The experiment involving Fem!Reader and Professor Blaidd comes to a sloppy conclusion

Episode 13: Tiptoe Through the Tulips - In which a gardening contest is taken too seriously, and leads to some whipping, then some tribbing

Episode 14: Artistic Intent - Fem!reader sits for an art class, then sits on the teacher

Episode 15: German Sausage - A long distance train sees Fem!Reader get very well acquainted with her cervid travelling companion

Episode 16: Fae Deals, part 1 - the start of the third 3 parter, Masc!Reader meets a Fae prince on Grindr and tries to hook up. They go to a second location where Masc!Reader becomes Fem!Reader

Episode 17: Fae Deals, Part 2 - Newly Fem!Reader is turned over to the Fae Prince's friends before being passed around

Episode 18: Fae Deals, Part 3 - Fem!Reader is introduced to her new friends at the hunting lodge. It's... a lot (seriously, read the CWs on this one)

Episode 19: Four Seasons Landscaping - Another palette-cleanser after yesterday. Fem!Reader has a gig to do some "minor weeding" and winds up getting up-close and personal with a flower

Episode 20: Your Minotaur Boyfriend - A quick scene of intense, enthusiastic fucking between fem!Reader and your king-bed sized minotaur boyfriend

Episode 21: The Lake - By request! Fen!Reader goes skinny dipping in a lake and gets got by a tentacle monster. Expect heavy noncon and impregnation

Episode 22: The Ritual, Part 1 - Another request! Fem!Reader is a barmaid with a slightly unconventional selling point. Lots of CNC, enthusiastic consent and multiple men on one woman

Episode 23: The Ritual, Part 2 - Fem!Reader winds up having a bad time at the hands of a cult

Episode 24: The Ritual, part 3 - The conclusion of this 3-parter. Fem!Reader finds out more about her new husband, and enjoys the wedding night

Episode 25: Suddenly Sci-fi - Fem!Reader gets abducted by aliens and probed. Expect drugging, overstim, and the end of human civilization as you know it!

Episode 26: Disciplinary Action - Fem!Reader tries to escape her alien overlord, winds up dispensing refreshments at his upcoming party

Episode 27: The Wounded Beast - Another fantasy! Forest ranger fem!reader is tracking a poacher, winds up meeting a minotaur and has some fun

Episode 28: Mountain Oni - Masc!Reader takes shelter from inclement weather on a mountain hike, gets femdom'ed by a beautiful Oni

Episode 29: Farm Work Part 2 - We return to the hucow farm to follow up on Fem!Reader during the last few weeks of her pregnancy with her monster child. This one actually turned out less dark than expected, which is a nice change

Episode 30: The Hash Slinging Slasher - Fem!Reader doesn't think she fits the MO of the local masked serial killer, turns out she does, and he's got a thing for plump women with great tits

Episode 31: Bug Buzz - Fem!Reader is doing cartography when she gets jumped, stung, and filled with eggs

Episode 32: Homecoming - Fem!Reader's Naga girlfriend is coming back from a business trip, expect fluffy wlw fucking with remarkably few CWs

Episode 33: The Book - Fem!Reader finds a book of summoning magic and decides to get an incubus encounter out of it, this one might get picked up again later

Episode 34: Free Range - A broken down car leads to Fem!Reader getting kidnapped and taken to a free-range hucow farm. Think episode 9 but less awful

Episode 35: Interdiction - Space Explorer FtM!Reader gets got by new life and filled with eggs in a slightly horrifying scene. It's fun, and the closest thing to fanfic I've written so far

Episode 36: Hunter, Hunted - Fem!Reader is hunting a beast terrorising a village, gets hunted in return and mercilessly bred, with some turnabout at the end

Episode 37: Coulrophilia - Fem!Reader doesn't like clowns, then meets a few she winds up really liking. Expect a nice and fluffy clown gangbang

Episode 38: Date Night - Another quick standalone, Fem!Reader gets home from work and has enthusiastic kitchen-table sex with her werewolf husband. Enjoy!

Episode 39: Haunting - Fem!Reader gets the attention of an unpleasant ghost, and duped into releasing its pals

Episode 40: Sanguinare Vampiris - Fem!Reader's vampire boyfriend comes over for dinner and a movie. It's either sorta fluffy or really horrifying depending on how familiar you are with 90's Vampire TTPRGs

Episode 41: Dances with snakes - Fem!Reader is doing an anthropology on an alien world, herself having been made into a snake-hybrid to better survive, ends up in a closer encounter than anticipated. It goes a bit Dune, a bit Foundation, very long

Episode 42: Orc Daddy - Fem!Reader is the only human in the orc village, and her adoptive father has a suitor in mind for her. expect enthusiastic consent, size difference, arranged marriage, and breeding

Episode 43: Getting into the nose - Probably not my best work, Fem!Reader discovers her husband is a part-time clown and gets drawn into the hobby for an afternoon

Episode 44: 'Neath a Pale Moon - Fem!Reader sneaks out of her village to meet her werewolf lover, winds up being able to spend a lot more time with him

Episode 45: Resistance - Fem!Reader is part of a resistance cell fighting the Chitinid forces, a failed act of defiance goes very, very badly for her

Episode 46: Another day in the fields - Following on from episode 34, Fem!Reader has had her child, and is going to get her minotaur lover/owner to giver her another one

Episode 47: One Year Later - It's Fem! Reader's anniversary with Oreg! They fuck! It's good! Enjoy!

Episode 48: Medical Attention - Funtime's over but Professor Blaidd is still stuck in Fem!Reader. Good thing you're both friends with a werewolf doctor who does house calls

Episode 49: Medical Science - Roswell-style aliens abduct and experiment on Fem!Reader using transformation serums. If you like rapid growth, you'll like this one

Episode 50: Hot as Hell - Masc!Reader is having a movie night with some demon friends, one is late, the other goes into rut, he helps out

Episode 51: Daring Escape - Fem!Reader has to escape a fantasy city without being spotted. Help arrives in the form of a centaur and, tied to his belly, the escape is launched. Dubcon cumulation fun abound

Episode 52: Doll - Fem!Reader offends a faerie and gets turned into a clockwork fucktoy. She later gets found, and claimed (a bit shorter tonight, sleep cycle is so out of whack)

Episode 53: Hornyposting - Fem!Reader gets a pair of portal panties off the internet and posts her friend code to a public forum. Then she wears them to a café and really irritates a barista by getting publicly knotted

Episode 54: The In-Laws - Fem!Reader is out of options and needs to stay with her in-laws to keep a roof over her daughter's head. It turns out to be a mixed blessing. CWs for vampires, and I'm not kidding at all when I say gallons of blood

Episode 55: Young Lovers - It's A-level results day and Fem!Reader has done well. She spends the day with her doting werewolf boyfriend and they get up to some fun

Episode 56: Demonic Awakening - Fem!Reader tries to summon a succubus to break her dry spell. It doesn't work, and she gets more than she bargained for

Episode 57: Ranch Hand - Fem!Reader didn't get a job as a hucow, and almost gave up on her ambition to become a professional whore for the three minotaur brothers who run the ranch until a mysterious text message gives her hope (I'm real proud of this one)

Episode 58: Pack Tactics - The world ended several years ago. Fem!Reader has been running with wolves since then. A juvenile takes an interest in her, and one thing leads to another

Episode 59: Sacrifice - Fem!Reader escaped a terrible fate long ago, and now has to come back to her hometown to save her niece from the same. It ends badly

Episode 60: Beauty and the Beasts - It's the 1600s and Fem!Reader has a pair of wolf boyfriends! It's a good time, lots of consensual fucking, lots of exposition about the origin of lupines in the continuity, some implied impregnation

[hon3y-y]

NUH UH roomate!sukuna had his thot era, it's time for reader to have hers!!! And he's gonna sit there and WATCH it- payback baby. I wanted reader to fuck satoru, suguru, kento, choso, even fucking hiromi- she gonna get it ALLLLLLL before sukuna can even get a taste 😤

cw: noncon filming!

pt 1: here<3 pt3: here<3 pt4: here<3

omfg he would be soooo pissed💀

picture this;

The morning after everything happened, Sukuna was more than ready to make it official with you. He had already planned how he was going to seduce you. He got up early to hit the gym before you even woke up, so when you were finally awake, you would see him all jacked up and sweaty. It literally had his stomach fluttering with excitement at just how fast he knew you'd fold. 

Well, easier said than done, because when he does get home and hear someone in the kitchen, it's not you cutely rubbing your sleepy eyes in nothing but a baggy shirt. Instead, it’s that white-haired freak from last night. 

He literally rolls his eyes, ignoring the greeting the guy sends and telling him to “get the fuck out” to which Satoru just laughs, takes his toast (which he made in Sukuna’s toaster, by the way), and exits the kitchen while taking a bite. Sukuna goes to your room door but is stopped by the obnoxious blond.

“She left, said she was going to see a friend.”

“Why are you still here?”

Satoru shrugs before grabbing the shirt he had thrown onto the couch the previous night and waving goodbye, crumbs from the toast he was eating still on his lips, before the door slams shut. 

Ryomen was floored. Were you two officials? Is that why you finally brought someone home? He couldn’t deny the pinch in his chest, but he shoved it aside. I mean, he would happily break up a home, so even if this was your stupid boyfriend, it wouldn’t dampen anything. He doesn’t mind a little competition. 

At least, that’s what he thinks it’s going to be. Since that night, both of your schedules had been too complicated, and you two had only seen each other in passing. But tonight, he knew you would both be off and it’s the weekend, so he knows you at least don’t have anything till midday. 

You return late, and you are absolutely not alone.

You’re with another guy, some blond man who looks a little too pristine to be found at the club (who he later finds out is kento from your whimpered of “kento! Oh fuck—yes! right there!”).

You don’t even notice that Sukuna's door is wide open and instead stumble straight into your own. and Ryomen is jaw-dropped, shocked. 

He begins to feel like a cuck; all he does is listen to you fuck this random selection of men you’ve created within these recent couple of weeks and fuck his fist stupid. It’s so embarrassing to feel like a hormonal teenager who can’t get a grip. but he can’t stop; he just remembers what you look like under Satoru. 

Night after night, all weekend long, you’re bringing home someone new. although after a while it’s just the same three guys. the annoying blond, Kento (or “the businessman”), and some random boy named "choso,” who he walked in on you giving a blow job to.

You stopped immediately, so embarrassed and shy, as if you didn’t just have this guy with his eyes rolled back, nearly crying every time you gagged on him. Choso, on the other hand, looked too fucked out to care about the third person in the room. 

Sukuna was so hard and horny all the time, and his interest in finding someone to handle it was useless. He wanted you, not some random girl. He even bought a fleshlight for the first time, needing something other than his hand to hump. 

One night, he returned late and heard the sweet noises of your mewls (again, it was starting to feel like a routine). He tried to quietly pass your door, but stopped short. three voices?

He almost couldn't believe it, but after cracking your door open, there you were. You were jerking Satoru off, his white hair sticking to his damp forehead, while this guy with long black hair was pounding into you. One of his hands wrapped around your throat while the other played with your clit, your body jerking at the intensity of stimulation. Satoru played with your swollen nipples, pinching and leaning down to suck them. 

Sukuna can’t help but pull his phone out and record it, going back to his room and rutting into his fleshlight until his cock is raw. the video on a constant loop because he was so fucking addicted. You looked so good. so pretty, and pliant under them. He wanted, no, needed to have you.

You lay in bed, absolutely exhausted after Suguru and Satoru left. You still can’t deny the effect Sukuna has on you, but since you’ve started having hookups, you haven’t even tried to listen to what Ryo does (not that you could’ve or noticed, clearly. he’s been on a dry spell). While you sleep peacefully, snuggled into your warm comforter, Sukuna lies awake, extremely frustrated.

he’s sooo down bad://

[yawnderu]

Monster | Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

AU! where Simon gives in to the violent sexual fantasies he has after Roba tortures him.

CW: noncon, darkfic, mind break, forced deepthroat, forced penetration, face slapping, tit slapping, rough sex, give in.

You yawned as you walked back home, half-lidded eyes looking down at your phone. 3:28AM, yet you ended the workday with plenty of tips from your little show and managed to leave earlier. You clutch your bag of singular euro bills, glancing behind you to make sure no man from the strip club was following you. Your mind rests at peace once you realize the street is fully empty.

''Fucking hell…'' You mutter softly, hand running through your hair as you open the door to your house, the alcohol and lack of sleep from the previous day catching up to you while you struggle to put the key inside. You manage to open the door, another yawn coming out of your lips as you walk inside, so, so, so close to closing the door behind you before it slams back into you, a pair of skull gloved hands pushing you back inside by the hair, his other hand closing the door behind.

''Get in, you fuckin' bitch.'' You didn't even have time to scream before he was onto you, pushing you into the couch roughly and in the midst of your struggle, you were able to see more of him. A black balaclava was covering his face, eye black tainting all over his eyes, cheeks and forehead, and those eyes… were haunting, to say the least. You could see pure madness and fury in them, yet you don't recognize them.

''If you're gonna fuckin' tease me…'' He started, ignoring your cries and pleas, begging him to stop whatever he was going to do. His fingers yanked your hair, forcing you to look up at him while your much smaller body sat helplessly on the couch, limbs in an awkward position after being forced to sit there.

''My parents are going to be home soon—'' Your sentence gets interrupted by a harsh slap on the cheek, the sound echoing all over the walls that will eventually see your demise.

''No, they fuckin' won't. I know you live alone, love.'' An amused chuckle escapes his lips as he sees the panic setting in your eyes, his hands undoing his belt as all you can do is cry, tears staining your vision and falling down your cheeks as you realize just in how much trouble you're in.

In a lapse of judgement and perhaps hope, you dare get up and try to dash for the door, and you're so close— hand on the doorknob before you're yanked back by the hair, a harsh slap being gifted to your cheek as he pushes you back onto the couch, easily removing the skimpy shirt you were wearing to reveal your chest.

''Push your tits out, come on.'' The way he's looking at you is like a predator stalking its prey, ready to pounce, so you obey. Your back arches as you push your tits out, whining and sobbing more as he started slapping them.

''That's it.'' He muttered between clenched teeth; the leather skull gloves he's wearing just making the impact even more painful. You watch with panic as he lowers his pants, hooking them right underneath his balls. He's massive— not only in length but in girth, a 9-incher covered in veins, the angry red tip seen slightly from the foreskin covering it as he angles it up to your sealed lips.

''Open your fuckin' mouth.'' He gives you a warning look and you eventually relent, glancing at the knife holster on his thigh, knowing he can easily hurt you even worse if he wanted to. His leg rests on the side of your face, leg resting on the couch as he begins to put his dick inside your mouth, gagging sounds escaping you the deeper he goes, yet it doesn't seem to bother him.

''Eat that fucking dick.'' He whispers, thrusting in and out of your mouth while holding onto your hair, guiding your head to jerk himself off with your throat. Your face is a mess of tears, snot, spit, and ruined makeup, making the scene all the more erotic for his twisted, screwed up mind.

You try your best not to throw up, silently thankful that you didn't eat much that day after being in a rush to get to work. The way his fat cock keeps slamming down hurts like a motherfucker, bruising the back of your throat with ease, but you still try not to gag too much in fear of puking down his cock.

He pulls out for a second, giving your cheek another hard slap before forcing you to lay on the couch, legs out of it while he removes your panties, leaving your dry cunt exposed. He positions himself on his knees between your legs, twisting the fabric of your skirt just enough to be able to spit on your pussy and line himself up.

''Please— please don't.'' Your pathetic cries are music to Simon's ears, his tortured mind finally feeling at peace when he covers your mouth and slams into you with one thrust. You scream into his hand, the sound muffled as he begins to move in and out, looking down at the way your cunt is swallowing him up.

''Your parents— bet they know you're a little slag.'' His voice is even deeper and more strained now that he's fucking into your cunt, his hand hesitantly moving away from your lips after giving you a warning look. You cry and whimper, small meaningless words that don't even register in his head as his hips slam back into you.

''Little fuckin' trash tart like you? They already knew you were gonna grow to be a whore.'' His movements are rough and unrelenting, the grip on your hips keeping you in place as he pounds into you with primal hunger. Despite the pain, your body is responding to the stimulation of his cock slamming into the perfect spot, slowly lubricating your cunt against your will.

''Look at you!'' He says with a small chuckle, pulling out while holding his dick with one gloved hand, pulling down his foreskin slightly to rub the tip of his dick all over your wetness.

''No—'' You cry out and he gets louder.

''Look! Fuckin' scooping your cum up.'' He scoops your wetness on the tip of his dick, rubbing it up and down before he starts to go back inside you, with a gentleness that lasts a second before he's buried all the way inside your wet, needy cunt.

''Little fucking prostitute, aren't you?'' He ignores the way you cry out ''no'' repeatedly and beg him to stop, thrusts becoming faster and more forceful, the sound of skin slapping against skin filing the room, the smell of sex and your whiny moans hanging heavy in the room as Ghost ravages you mercilessly.

He pulls out of you enough to put you in all fours on the couch, his big hand forcing your back to arch as much as possible before he slams himself back inside, hitting all the right places. You bite your lip as you try your best not to scream or moan, your body betraying you the more he fucks you with his stupidly big dick.

''I can help you— be your little pimp... sell you to all my friends.'' He's a big, burly man, too big for you to handle, you can't even imagine taking more than anyone half his size at this point, cunt abused and leaking with a mix of your own juices and his precum.

''Then we'll take turns fucking you.'' Every single one of his thrusts drives you closer to the edge against your will, his control over your movements unyielding.

''You're just a fucktoy. A piece of meat for men to use.'' His gloved hands open your asscheeks as he looks at the way his massive cock is disappearing into you, lips grasping around it for dear life.

''You're lucky I'm not fucking your ass. That's for next time. Fuckin' ass-rape you, yeah?'' You cry louder at the threat, hissing in a mix of pain and pleasure as he fucks you, hands now going to your ass while he keeps thrusting in and out, sharp spanks delivered onto your plump ass, making you whine even louder. You're trying to resist, but he's fucking you so good it's hard to grasp at the little sanity you have left. He pulls all the way out before slamming himself back in.

''Does it hurt your little pussy?'' He asked sarcastically, tone laced with fake pity while his grunts mix with your moans, the intensity of his thrusts leaving you both breathless. There's no tenderness in the way he fucks you, only a raw need of release.

''Please—'' You plead, yet you don't even know what you're begging for. For him to stop? To go faster? Everything is hazy, your mind being destroyed the same way your squelching cunt is.

''Cum as much as you want, love.'' He whispered and you scoffed, earning you another hard slap on the ass.

''Fuck you.'' You spit out and he chuckles, an eyebrow raised under the black balaclava.

''Fuck me?'' He asks, a bruising hold on your hips as he slams deeper and harder. You nod your head, soft whimpers escaping your lips.

''Yeah.'' You confirm, trying your best not to moan at the way his cock keeps touching all your nerves in the right places, cunt juice leaking down your thighs.

''Fuck me?'' He asks again, more irritated as his thrusts halt for a second. ''Yeah- Fu— fuuuck!'' Your words are interrupted as he fucks you faster, dick slipping out before being slammed back in at an unlawful pace.

'''s what I thought.'' You can tell he thinks he's hot shit simply by his cocky tone, enjoying this little game he's playing with you.

''You let anyone with a big cock fuck you like this?'' He taunts, trying to get in your head, and you let him. You desperately nod your head, and even if it's not exactly true... it's not embarrassing if you're shameless.

''Fuck yourself on my cock.'' He commands, his hips stopping all movement and you obey, like a leashed dog. Your hips push back on his cock but it's not enough no matter how fast you go, lewd moans and whines escaping your lips as you're desperate for release.

''Faster, baby... make yourself cum or I'll hurt you real bad.'' You hear the sound of sharp metal being removed from its holster and panic quickly settles in, making you slam yourself down faster and harder on his dick— not good enough for his taste. You feel the tip of the knife sliding down your spine and you stop, scared of accidentally cutting yourself.

He pushes you off his cock, making you land on your chest as he gets in a prone position, holding his bodyweight up with one hand as he leans closer to you.

''Need some help?'' His husky voice whispers, the chuckle afterwards making you sick. He wants you to admit defeat verbally, already knowing what you want, yet you're still as stubborn as a mule.

''Fuck you.'' You mutter softly and another chuckle comes out of him, lining himself back up to your cunt as your hands clench the sheets, relief painted on your face when you hear the knife go back to its holster. He slides himself back inside at an agonizing pace, hips halting once he's all the way inside.

''Just say the word and I'll fuck you stupid.'' He whispers softly, hips circling against your ass slowly making you even more desperate. You whine out, tears staining your eyes again, this time out of desperation rather than fear and resistance.

''F-fuck... please fuck me.'' You whisper out and he gives you another deep thrust, hips stopping again as you cry out in desperation.

''Sorry? Didn't catch that one, doll.'' Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupidly nice dick. You throw your pride aside, wanting to get this over with.

''Please fuck me.'' You say louder, grimacing at your pathetic cock-drunk voice, yet he listens to you for the first time. He resumes his brutal pace, ravaging you with no care, the line between pleasure and pain blurs out as he uses you for his own pleasure, dominance overpowering any sense of morality and gentleness.

''T-too hard...'' You cry out when he grabs your arms, getting on his knees while he uses your arched body to fuck himself into you. If you're complaining about it, he'll just give it to you faster.

''Shit— s-slow the fuck down...'' His grunts mix with your moans, the intensity of his thrusts driving you closer and closer to the edge while your cunt gets used and abused.

''Cum with me.'' He grunts out, balls slamming against your clit with each hard thrust, control slipping away from both of you as you're reduced to nothing but a groaning mess united as one, bodies tensing up as your vision is overcome by white, reaching what seems to be your most intense orgasm. Your vision goes dark as he covers your eyes and you can feel a pair of lips kissing your shoulder, moaning lowly without any restraints as he releases all the way inside your cunt.

''Takin' my cock so well...'' He whispers, kissing the side of your head before slowly pulling out of you. When you look back up at him, the mask is covering his face again. You close your eyes, head leaning back on the mattress as exhaustion catches up to you, not registering the way he carries you in his arms to the shower to get rid of the evidence.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Your Boyfriend Owen

Yandere Male x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon/dubcon, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, chaining, general yandere behavior, social awkwardness, creepy staring, mild scent kink.) Word Count: 2.5k (This was supposed to be a small couple hundred word drabble... oopsiedoodles...)

It was the first day of your last year in college.

At the end of class there was a student lingering at his desk. He was your age and of average build, maybe a bit on the skinny side, with disheveled medium length black hair that was a bit wet with sweat and glasses that were a bit crooked.

He seemed really distraught and panicky as he typed on his laptop.

You introduced yourself and asked him if he needed help with something.

He went silent and awkwardly stared at you for a moment before speaking.

“Uh… hi, I’m Owen.”

He was obviously not used to people approaching and talking to him.

I-I don’t know how to get assignments and submit them on this updated online portal we have this year! I just cannot figure it out!”

You leaned over his desk and took a look at his laptop, you happily showed him how to navigate the new system. You didn’t blame Owen for being so high strung, the classes were tough and this new portal was pretty confusing.

What you didn’t realize was that in this simple act of helping him you had made the biggest mistake of your life.

Owen was stunned that you were helping him. You must have liked him! No one was this nice to a random stranger.

As you leaned over his desk to use his laptop he noticed you smelled so nice.

If he hadn’t already been sweating from his previous issues with the student portal you may have noticed the blush that crept across his face.

When you finished he thanked you nervously before you left for your dorm.

There was plenty of foot traffic to and from the dorms, classes, and the food places on campus. It was very easy for Owen to go unseen as he followed you to your dorm.

He… just wanted to make sure you got there safely. And also wanted to see where you lived.

Over the course of the next few weeks Owen you constantly caught Owen staring at you in class and he never failed to greet you when you sat down or try to talk to you when you left. You were always polite but… it was a little creepy to be honest, but you ignored it because it was pretty harmless. He just had a crush on you.

It was far from harmless though, during the time of day that you had classes and he didn’t he would sneak into your dorm and take little “treasures” that he was sure you wouldn’t miss.

A used pair of underwear that still had your scent from the day before. Maybe a shirt if it wasn’t one of your favorites, he knew which ones you wore most often.

As far as he was concerned he was your boyfriend, even if you didn’t know it yet, and good boyfriends noticed small details like favorite clothes.

He also took note of super important information like what food seemed to be your favorite, wherever you ate lunch he was sure to be in the crowd watching you.

Things probably would have continued on like that for a lot longer, just a creepy stalker pining for you, but then one day you helped someone else in class.

They didn’t deserve to even breathe the same air as you! He was fuming, he clenched his hands so hard that his nails bruised his palms. To grace such a nobody with your assistance drove him beyond jealousy.

But that did not even compare to when he saw you the next day eating lunch with the slime ball.

Why would you do that to him? Surely you liked him, not this piece of shit. He must have forced himself into your space and you were just too sweet to push him away.

Owen had to do something before things escalated too far. And he didn’t have to wait too much longer to have his opportunity.

There was a huge Halloween party coming up and he knew for a fact you would be going.

He went with a masquerade ball costume, complete with an intricately decorated Venetian mask.

When you were at the party he waited for the perfect moment to make his move. He stared at you the entire time, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment. Even if he hadn’t been planning something he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off you. You had decided to go as a pale faced vampire, it made him wonder what your teeth on his neck would feel like.

When you were all alone, and after your judgment was a bit off from a few drinks Owen came over and introduced himself and started chatting you up before offering you a drink.

He was a bit of an oddball, but he was always nice right? What was the harm?

You accepted the drink and soon everything was a blur. You weren’t rendered entirely unconscious, just helpless, compliant, and a touch clingy.

Owen escorted you out of the party with you leaning on him heavily, his face was red beneath his mask, his darling was relying on him for support! Just how it should always be~

Not many people at the party knew you, and even if they had they wouldn’t have thought much of you leaving in this manner, you just appeared to be a little drunk and leaving with someone who you trusted.

Owen stroked your cheek gently and guided you gently into the passenger seat of his car.

It was really happening, he was taking his love home.

He lived with his parents, in the large basement of their house. He was the true epitome of a basement dwelling freak.

You clung to him and nuzzled into his neck as he brought you inside. You didn’t know why, but you felt so needy.

He sat you down softly on the bed, he had changed the color of the sheets to match yours. He wanted you to feel at home and get adjusted to being here as quickly as possible and thought it may make the transition easier.

To that end he had also hung copies of the same posters you had hanging in your dorm, had the bookshelf filled with every book that he had ever seen you reading, and while everyone else was at the party he had even managed to snag a few things from your room.

Most notably your Nintendo switch and your blankets. They were drenched in your scent~

In your drugged state you couldn’t quite make sense of your surroundings… it looked kinda similar to your room… but not…

“Wh-wherrre aare w-w-weee?” You couldn’t speak without slurring your words.

“We’re home! Th-this is where you live now!

That didn’t seem right… did it? It felt a bit off… But why would this nice man lie to you? He gave you a drink and a ride… home.

“You’ll live here with me and I will take good care of you!”

“That’sss sooo n-nice of you”

Owen smiled, he knew you may feel differently once the drugs wore off, but he had taken precautions just in case. What mattered was that you were here, you weren’t leaving, and you’d eventually admit that you liked him and wanted to be here with him.

He sat down beside you on the bed and wiped the pale makeup from your face gently, you leaned into his touch with a cute sigh that made his heart swell and his cock twitch.

You were so perfect. Eventually you would be like this without the drugs, he just needed to be patient and train you until you saw that you needed him as much as he needed you. He had wanted to wait until that point to make love with you.

But… you were acting so sweet and needy. So malleable. And he could tell that you really needed it, your face was flushed and you kept grinding your crotch slowly against your arm that you had between your legs.

You stared up at him in confusion as he began to peel away his clothing, his cock bouncing free. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it. Then he carefully took off what you were wearing, slowly. He wanted to savor the moment. The person he loved more than anything else in the entire world was about to be revealed completely to him.

“So p-perfect~”

“Whaaaa are you doooinnng?” You looked up at him while not even noticing you were already grinding into your arm again.

He rubbed your thighs gently before replying.

“I’m g-going to help you with this,” he said as he caressed your crotch.

You blushed and smiled, in that moment all you could think that Owen was just so nice. He had already taken you home and now he was going to help you with your arousal too!

You spread your legs to allow for easier access as he fumbled with the lube.

He was considerably more nervous than before.

“I-it’s my first time, I hope I’m okay~ I-if I’m not we can pr-practice until I get it right!”

Owen applied the slick fluid liberally to his cock, where it mixed with the precum that his cock was practically drooling, then he scooted you to the edge of the bed and knelt between your legs, using his tongue to get you nice and stimulated.

The scent and flavor of you was almost enough to make Owen cum almost immediately, he was more drugged by your smell than you were on actual drugs. He moaned loud, taking it all in.

Before he caused either of you to orgasm before the main event he managed to pry himself away and apply lube to your entrance, sliding in a couple of fingers and twirling them around inside you.

You bucked and moaned, desperate to have more inside you as the lube mixed with all the saliva he had deposited inside you.

“Neeed morrrre,” You started crying a bit, you were just so desperate. You were like a bitch in heat and nothing would take care of it except Owen’s cock.”

“S-so needy! Don’t cry honey bun, I will take care of you!”

You tried to get your sobbing under control as he kissed you deeply.

“Gosh, y-you’re pretty even when you’re crying…

Then he stood beside the bed and propped your legs up on his shoulders. He rubbed the tip around your hole a bit, wanting to ingrain this moment into his memory for the rest of his life, before grabbing your hips and plunging his entire length inside of you in one movement.

The two of you gasped in unison, finally you felt that yearning void in you start to fill and he was inside of you.

It was much better than he had imagined in the fantasies he had so fervently jerked off to.

The heat, the tightness, your insides were enveloping his cock in pure bliss. And the smell of your sweat mingled with his and the scent of sex was just indescribable.

He slid in and out rhythmically, bending down and biting your neck as he did so. Claiming it as he sped up faster and faster.

Owen couldn’t help not lasting too long, and luckily for him you couldn’t either in your drugged state.

You cried out as you came hard, the force of your climax shaking through your body, pushing Owen over the edge. He filled you with plenty of cum before wrapping his arms around you lovingly.

“I love you so much!”

Your intoxicated mind felt the perfect response to this was, “I looo-love youuu toooo.”

When you woke up you were clothed and all cleaned up, and you could scarcely remember a single thing after the party. You had an awful headache and it took you a few moments to realize that this was certainly not your bedroom.

You felt someone spooning you from behind.

Owen. Owen was spooning you!

You must have gotten black out drunk and hooked up with him.

The thought made you feel sick to your stomach.

You immediately jumped out of bed and went to put your shoes on when you finally saw it.

A long thick chain that led to a shackle around your ankle.

You screamed.

Owen woke up instantly and tried to console you. He had been worried this may be your reaction.

“C-calm down honey b-bun. Just let me expla-”

“Don’t call me honey bun you sick freak!” You shouted the words with as much venom as you could muster, with tears threatening to roll down your face at any moment.

“HELP! HELP PLEASE!! SOMEON-”

Owen grabbed you from behind and put his hand over your mouth, using his other hand to hold you close to his shirtless form.

You still yelled, but it was pretty muffled. You could only hope someone had heard your initial outburst.

“Shh baby, calm down, it will be okay I promise~”

He kissed the top of your head and you tried to shake him off but you were still weak from last night, and he was stronger than you had anticipated. You finally went still and silently cried, your voice too strained now to say much of anything.

Then you heard footsteps coming from above you, they got louder as they approached. Did he have roommates? Had they heard your plea for help? You allowed a spark of hope to ignite inside of you.

You couldn’t see it, but Owen was blushing deeply.

“O-oh jeez, I didn’t want you to meet my parents y-yet. Not until you felt b-better.”

A man and a woman came down the steps. They both had features that reminded you of Owen.

The woman spoke while the man stood behind her, “Just what the HELL is going on at this early hour!? The sun is barely out and I have to work later tod-”

She met your eyes, only just now realizing that her son had someone in his arms. You could see her gaze follow the chain that bound your leg to the wall.

Seeing your tear streaked face, red and puffy from crying, shaking from fear, she gave a look of sympathy. Your hope grew. Would she help you escape her loony son? Your sore throat strained to form words, but they only came out muted and garbled through Owen’s hand.

“Owen! You didn’t tell us you were dating! Honestly, with how awkward you are, I was a bit afraid you’d never take a liking to someone.”

Then she looked at you again.

“You’ll be okay, I know it’s hard at first, but you’ll settle right in.”

“I-i made sure the shackle was lined with something s-soft so it doesn’t hurt them. J-just like you told me how you did when y-you started dating dad!”

You saw the man bite his lip and gaze down sheepishly.

Owen was in his mid 20s, if his age was any indication… if he was conceived when his parents first met… then you were going to be here for a very long time.

[lorelune]

bathtime

|| blade x reader || M || captive reader x necrobiome blade || wc: 5.1k  || ao3 || previous + next ->

Even the best bath water will find it difficult to cleanse 'sin'.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c welcome to part 3 of the architect-verse :3cc been cooking on this one for awhile 🙏 yandere blade is such a guy and scummy manipulative mommy kafka is so fun to write :3ccc thank you for beloved @ofmermaidstories for doing a read through on this one 🥺♥!! enjoy enjoy enjoy 💓

CW: dark content, yandere blade, captive/pet reader, discussions of noncon, references to past noncon on blade while he was underage and as an adult, references to past noncon on reader, use of the word rape, violence/thoughts of violence, past yingxing/dan feng, toxic blade/kafka

It’s normal for Blade to return to the Stellaron Hunters’ main vessel covered in assorted types of gore. Scraps of rent flesh, smears of blood, bile, scales— tendons and sinew wrapped under his forearms, clinging from the pressure of impact light-years away. The smell of it clings to him, still fresh, just barely beginning to rot. He stews in it during his typical return in small, covert starships. He half-suffocates with the stench of death.  

This is typical. Blade does not carry any opinion about it. If anything, he welcomes the potential of asphyxiation, though it never comes. 

Most routinely, Kafka will greet him as he returns and take him to clean up. Occasionally, when she is indisposed, Silver Wolf will be forced to hose him down in the communal gym shower or Sam will dunk him in the bath by the scruff of his neck. Blade does not... particularly enjoy the latter two options. Though he isn't sure entirely why, and he doesn't tend to dwell on it either. 

When Kafka collects him, it is easier, if nothing else. Less fuss, less grimacing over the smell of burgeoning rot and complaining that Blade should do this prior to arriving home. Blade doesn't care about the other Stellaron Hunters’ complaints, not really, but it does make the ordeal longer than it needs to be. 

(And maybe, maybe, he does not like being drenched in bone-chilling water and soaked clothing. He hates it.) 

Kafka will lead Blade back to her own room, strip him, and give him a warm bath. Frequently, she’ll take off her own clothing and join him. She’ll hold him close, his back to her front. Kafka likes when she is able to cow him into resting against her front, cow him into resting his cheek against her breasts while she scrubs away the worst of the grime. 

Never mind that they share the same, red-tinged bathwater. 

(Occasionally, things escalate. Touch that volleys between innocent and clinical and sexual. Kafka will stroke down the planes of his body, reach for his cock, and bring him to release. It’s— it's nice. He thinks. He can't tell.) 

It's hard to tell anything in the steam of the bath. Though Kafka's presence renders his mara mute, proximity makes it writhe regardless. It is not a soundless beast, though it loses its words. Muddy feelings, rather than anything clear cut. It's a reprieve regardless. 

This is why Blade prefers to be cleaned by Kafka. 

... 

This mission, however, Blade receives a text from Kafka during his return journey that she will be out. Along with Silver Wolf. And that Sam is charging and shouldn't be disturbed.  

However— 

Kafka: 

why don't you see if our little stray is up for a bath, bladie? 

There's a thought. One Blade hadn't considered. 

(There's a whisper of a refusal in the back of his mind. 'No'. Blade is not sure why. It is quiet but sure of itself.) 

Blade: 

When will you be back. 

Kafka: 

tomorrow. don't wait up until then. listen, just ask. 

Kafka's mind weaving does not work over text. But it is, regardless, difficult to resist her command. This is habit. 

Blade idles outside of your room. He has dripped mess across the vessel and left little piles of flesh and muscle in his wake. The quiet sound of blood splattering against the floor (his, maybe, though his regeneration should be almost complete) makes him aware of this. 

It feels uncouth to enter your room like this. 

Blade shakes himself off and leaks scarlet droplets against the metal paneling. methodically, he releases the five locks on your door. Each clicks when fully disarmed, and by the time Blade enters, you're already looking up at the door, eyes wide. 

You're tucked into bed with a soft blanket over your lap. A tablet (a gift from silver wolf at Kafka's behest. For 'good behavior'. Not connected to any internet, but you've told Blade it helps pass the time.) 

The device is promptly forgotten as you push yourself out of bed, "Aeons, Blade, what happened? Are you hurt?" 

You approach him with no caution. It's reckless. It's foolish, especially with this much adrenaline tumbling around between his eyes and in his veins. He has the distinct urge to shove you away and into the floor. Compress you until you break and bleed and bleed and break. 

Blade does not. 

Instead, he lets you flit around him. He lets you draw your own conclusions. 

You are not foolish. You know he is dangerous; he knows you know this. It is your... good nature that creases the surely-soft skin between your brows. It's your kindness that has you frazzled, shaking in your hands as you hover over him. Searching for wounds that are mostly healed. 

"Blade, I said, are you hurt?" You ask, voice strained, bent at the waist while examining a slice in his pants. A lance had torn his calve wide open. It has already healed. 

"I'm fine." 

"Sure." You don't sound convinced, frowning. "You look like shit. Am I really supposed to believe that?" 

"I have already healed. my injuries are no longer a concern." 

"... Really?" 

"I am an abomination of Yaoshi. This is my nature." 

You already know this, yet you look defeated. Your jaw is tight. "Uh-huh. Alright. Fuck, do you feel alright?" 

"I'm fine. I need to be clean." 

"... Alright?" 

"I need to bathe." 

"... I see that... Do you want me to call Kafka?" 

"She's off ship." 

"Oh, fuck." you curse and shake your head. "I-is she going to be back soon?" 

"No. Help me instead." 

"M-me?" Your voice trembles and you take a fearful step back. Ever the skittish thing. something in him— sort of him— vibrates. 

"Yes." 

"Can you— not?" 

"It's cumbersome to wash on my own." 

"I see." You run a hand over your cheeks and adjust the wide collar of your shirt. It’s too big. It’s one of his— probably? A sleep shirt. One that Kafka stole from him to give to you. He knows you own several. "Alright. Okay. Fine. Fuck, I-I can help." 

You shoo him into your bathroom. 

You turn away from him almost immediately, poking around in a cabinet, plucking brightly colored products and muttering under your breath. Kafka mentioned that isolation is getting to you more than you think. She thinks it's cute. 

Blade wordlessly begins to strip. First off is his blood-soaked overcoat, shredded around his ribs and with massive gouges taken out of the back. Then his undershirt. Followed by his pants. One of his belts rings a metallic clink as he undoes it. 

You choose this moment to turn around and your eyes go wide. 

"BLADE!" You cover your eyes, dropping a bottle. "What are you— you can't just do that." 

"Do what?" 

"Get... naked?" 

"You are going to help me bathe. This is necessary." 

"I understand that." You sound exasperated. Your voice is shaky. The tone is pulling something in the back of his mind. The corners of his lips almost want to curl upwards. "But you can't just strip without warning. Aeons, have some manners." 

Blade nearly laughs— good-naturedly. The urge to is something dormant and poisonous. Seldom used. Usually it's a sharp impulse, but it's almost warm now. Tepid and pleasant.  

(All for you.) 

You cover your eyes as you fumble to turn on the tap, "At least go rinse off a little in the shower first, please?" 

Doable, albeit difficult. Blade grunts something akin to an affirmative and finds your shower. He turns the water on (hot or cold doesn't seem... relevant) and steps in. The spray pours down from the ceiling, sending the worst of the gore down the drain. 

Blade does not move for quite some time.  

"Blade?" you ask warily. "You... done in there?" 

It takes him a moment to reply. The cold spray lags him, "Yes." 

"... Can you come out? The bath is ready." 

He idles, thinking about your question. The softness of your voice. The candle that he can smell, lit on the countertop. You yourself, dressed in soft lounge clothes and covered in scars that strangers gave you. He thinks about the way skin and muscle rend under his blade. The way yours could. Under him. Under— 

"Blade." 

You open the glass shower door, worry-eyed. 

He blinks at you. 

Gently, you grab his arm. He flinches with it. Has half a mind to slam you into the tile until you pop like an perfectly ripe fruit— 

But he doesn't. 

"C’mon, bath time," you coax him out, dripping, careful to not look down. It’s a preservation of modesty. It feels useless, Blade thinks, as he pulls away to clamor into the bath. 

... There are bubbles. Fragrant and herbal, with a soft oil shimmering on the top of the water. It is the perfect temperature. It feels... good. He forgets how nice warmth is. He softens. You heave out a sigh and settle next to him, outside the bath. There's a dampened washcloth, already in your hand. 

"Is it okay if I touch you?" You ask. 

"I don't care." 

"Give me a yes or a no,” you press him, glaring a little. You roll up your sleeves and rise to your knees. 

"Yes, then." He does not care. Do you not understand? 

(You probably don't. You definitely don't.) 

Your expression is unreadable as you dunk the rag into the bathwater and begin to wash him. First his right arm, then his left. Gently rubbing him down, taking extra care with his hands. The rag is gentle over his stiff fingers. You check under each of his nails individually. 

You’re meticulous. 

You ask a question or two about how he washes himself, specifically his hair, but Blade can't give you answers. Kafka stocks his bathroom. His bottles are numbered, and he never deviates from their preassigned order. It is easier that way. Even in Kafka’s tub, she tends to use the same order of expensive-looking products that she favors.  

The treatment you’re currently giving him is not routine.  

The ends of your sleeves dip into the water as you stretch over the tub, toward his legs. Your tongue peaks out from your lips, bitten in concentration. (It’s cute.) Blade feels... compelled to assist you. He raises his leg up at the knee. Just as carefully, you scrub him down, and then focus on his other leg.  

The experience fills him with a sense of unease.  

(It’s too tender.) 

(You treat him too delicately. Even Kafka acknowledges the damage he carries, and her touch is only gentle to punctuate a roughness later on. She toys with him— it’s a farce. The way you touch him is too kind. You are too kind for him. It reminds him— makes him feel the ghost of a touch from hands more delicate and powerful than your own. From a different lifetime, blotted by Mara, corrupted and molten in his mind—) 

“Blade—?” Your voice is shaking, shattering. You’re frozen at the side of the tub.  

Blade blinks. 

He has his hand wrapped around your wrist; his grip swallowing the fragile limb. The force of it is bruising. He holds it under the water, forcing you to lean over the tub. You are submerged up to your elbow. Your expression is pinched, afraid. Your pupils pinpricked.  

An animal snared. 

His grip tightens.  

“Let go, please.” You ask, lip wobbling.  

He does not want to let go. He really does not want to let go. Blade cannot trace the feeling, it’s miasmatic. It was a bad idea to have you assist in bathing him. Mara webs itself behind his eyes. His jaw locks and breathes hard through his nose. He wants to sink his teeth into your throat. 

“Please, stop,” You whine— whimper while tugging against his hold. You are half bent over the bath. Your eyes water, all shiny.  

The tone does something to him. Many people plead around him— for their life, mercy, favor. It’s useless. He does not care. He has no reason to care. There are scripts to follow. However— there’s no script here. Just the warm suds, the blood pumping through your veins, and Blade’s tunneling vision. 

With a sharp pull, he drags you into the bath. 

You fall in headfirst. Instantly, you clamor at the side of the tub and his submerged legs to get yourself back above water. You scramble. It’s— cute. Your hair is slicked down around your face and forehead, eyes wide as you pant. His legs bracket your body. He tightens his thighs around you.  

Your thin clothes are soaked and cling to you. Fabric over curves and folds over your flesh. Blade’s half-hard and feels bad about it. 

(He can’t trace why. It’s far from the first time he’s been physically aroused in relation to you. It always makes him feel bad. Not with Mara, but something personal and sour and less mad. He hates it. He’s almost torn out a rib over the feeling.) 

You hover, frozen, between his legs. The only sounds in the bathroom are your panting breaths and the drips rolling off your body, into the bathwater. You swallow, trembling, but remaining otherwise unmoving. It occurs to Blade after a few tense moments that you are waiting for him to strike.  

Always like a little, frightened animal.  

(Something in him writhes.) 

He moves quickly, shooting a hand out to fist into your hair. His grip is unyielding, giving you no slack (though, he doesn’t yank and pull as he could. He could tear out chunks if he wanted. He just doesn’t want you to move.) He wants you closer— maybe. He wants you far away, thrown through one of the ship's thick windows and into the vacuum of space and dead. 

(Though, it wouldn’t be as satisfying for the void of space to kill you. He’d rather do it. He wants to do it, if you’re going to die.) 

You whine and paw at his wrists, babbling something.  

Blade feels disgusting as he drags your body to his, his chest to your back, and he curls over your form. His arms wind around your waist and squeeze. You scratch at him, beg maybe— he can’t tell, his ears are ringing. Your fists that slam into his shoulders and skull feel like swats from a declawed kitten. He doesn’t budge despite your protests.  

You stop fighting when you realize he isn’t hurting you. 

Blade doesn’t... want to hurt you. He thinks. Not really. Not in the way that Mara is screaming at him to. He isn’t content, you’re too warm and too alive to be this close to his body, but it's not bad. Contact both scratches an itch under his skin and aggravates a wound. It’s like a bath with Kafka, but worse— 

(Because part of him wants this.) 

Blade flinches when you go slack against him, chest heaving out breath. Even this little ‘scrap’ has tired you out. You’ve become weakened in your confined state— even if you really wanted to fight him, you don’t have the physical strength to be able to. 

You sniffle, covered in soaked clothes and soap suds. 

“Don’t cry.” Blade says without thinking. His voice is shot, dead-pan.  

Trembling, you shake your head, “I w-won’t.” 

It’s a lie. You’re already shaking in his arms. 

It’s— unfair. You’re most used to him, and less wary of him than Kafka. Part of him, a loud but small part of his mind, thinks that a bath together could be enjoyable— if he wasn’t washing blood and filth from his hair, and you weren’t shivering in your soaked day clothes. 

(‘This could be nice’, it urges.)  

His hands rub over your sides in small circles at the idea. 

You gasp and squirm, looking back at him with wild eyes, “Blade, please—” 

He stops, but his hold around your waist doesn’t waver. You sigh and lean back into his chest, deflating. Your eyes go half-lidded as you look toward the ceiling. They look— dull. Light and life drained. Like how they did when he and Kafka first collected you from that gilded planet. 

Blade knows that look— a dull mind and an active body. Your breath is still a bit too fast. Your heart is the same, running a prey-like rhythm. He assumes that you have left your body, gone elsewhere. 

“Hey.” He shakes you lightly, dragging you back to the cooling bath. “Help with my hair.” 

“... Hair?” You ask, voice soft and dreamy. “... Do you need me to wash it?” 

“Yes.” 

“... Okay.” You nod after a moment and rotate in his lap.  

Your shoulders sag forward as you fumble for shampoo and squirt a generous amount into your palm. Half of it misses and the gel sinks into the bathwater below.  

It’s unfair— part of him says again— he wants to tear it out and shred it between his teeth or under his blade. It screams that it's unfair that you dote on a creature like him. It’s unfair that you must shiver while lathering and rinsing his hair. That your pretty lips tremble with fear.  

The Mara writhes. He has not been human in so long. He does not deserve the gentleness you so often give him. Especially now, when he has dragged you closer, made you filthy with the stench of blood, and forced you so close. He wants to bite out your throat as you tip forward to grab a brightly colored bottle of oil and begin to work through the knots in his air. 

You are frowning. You are crying. 

He wants to eat you. 

Blade reaches for your chest, studying the way that the fabric clings to your skin-gone-gooseflesh. He finds the top button of your soft blouse in his own unsteady hands and undoes it. You freeze when he does, breath catching. 

You don’t breathe as he undoes another button.  

Then another. 

And another.  

You don’t breathe until the garment is nearly off. Just one button secures the fabric. He can see the peak of your breasts under the fabric, nipples pebbled in the cold. You’re so cold.  

(Blade wishes, dead Yingxing wishes, that he were warmer.) 

Your hand shoots out and wraps around his wrist, and in a small voice, you beg, “Please, d-don’t.” 

“You’re cold.” Blade says. He reaches past you, sloshing water, to turn on the spigot for hot water. “You will stay cold if you wear wet clothes.” 

You look at him strangely. At first, it’s wounded. Like you’ve been lanced through with Shard Sword, and now bear the gaping wound. It morphs to one of confusion, then you bite your lip. And grab his hands in your own and stare at them. 

“... That’s all?” You ask. 

“Mostly.” Blade replies. There’s— more. Far more. But nothing that is concrete enough, or important enough, to share with you. It would more than likely aggravate his spitting Mara.  

“Okay.” You reply, looking up from your joined hands. Your eyes are round and watery. “You’re not trying to rape me?” 

He freezes.  

The word ‘rape’ pulls something disgusting and festering up from Blade’s guts. Something he wants to purge. He has the distinct urge to lean over the side of the time and vomit, but he hasn’t eaten in the last forty-eight hours, so there’s nothing to heave up. So instead, he is still.  

It’s like he can feel the rot. He’s not sure why. He knows what the word means, he is pretty sure he has been raped. Probably. Either when he was a young child, a refugee fleeing a massacred world, or maybe when he was the bedmate to a dragon. Maybe, probably, from Kafka, any number of times. Maybe last week. His mind is cloudy.  

What constitutes rape is foggy.  

He knows it would mean that he wants to have sex with you, and you wouldn’t want to have sex with him. 

And Blade— 

(He— He— doesn’t want to have sex with you? Or he does. Maybe. He wants to be close to you, inside you. He wants to curl around you and make you swear to never leave. He wants— he wants so much. Blade is selfish. But—) 

Not like that, he doesn’t think. Others have been, he’s sure— he’s sure.  

Mara pours into his mind, and he remembers then. Pieces of times, fragments of old memories, of rape. Of violation of all kinds.  

(At the hands of borisins holding him down as he screamed and cried, his body too little to do any fighting in the jaws of an Abundance beast.) 

(A tradesman who allowed him to stowaway on a cargo ship, destined for the Luofu. ‘Payment’ — the man had called it. For safe passage and a little sack of rice.) 

(Dan Feng, during one of his draconic ruts. He was the Child of a Cosmic Horror, ultimately. That’s all Aeons are, anyways. Yingxing had been split on his cock so many times, so full, he bled for a day, even with Dan Feng fussing over him with his cloudhymns, lucid-in-mind and torn apart by so much guilt for a wildly proud man.) 

(Kafka, a few days after she first picked him up from the surface of the asteroid Jingliu had been beating him into. Kafka, a few weeks after that— in a hotel that stank of blue emory roses. Kafka, a few weeks ago, draped over his shoulders between missions. There’s more. Memories drenched in the smell of her rich perfume. They tangle in feelings of comfort and revulsion.) 

Blade doesn’t want to do any of that to you. 

(He wants something with you— but—) 

(Not like that. He doesn’t want you to hurt.) 

“I’m not going to rape you.” He tells you. He hardly sounds like himself as the Mara quiets. 

He thumbs over your lips. There’s a scar in the middle of them where they had been split, repeatedly, and then healed over. You’d told him once that one of your old keepers used to deprive you of water if he felt like it. Your breath is hot against his fingertip. 

You say nothing, but your breath is still fast and shaky. Your eyes are wide. A feral, wild animal.  

“I’m not.” Blade tries to reassure you. You flinch with the sound of his voice. “You’re freezing. The bath can be refilled with warm water. Bathe.” 

Tears break over your lower lashes as you stare at him. He stares back. 

(He wonders what you’re thinking. If you have as much trouble thinking as he does— you probably do. You’ve sustained head trauma. Traumas. You’re both torn-up wrecks, maybe. It could provide him with some solace.) 

“... Okay.” You rub your eyes with balled up hands and laugh. “Okay.” 

Blade then helps you peel off your shirt. Then your shorts and underwear. When you’re bare, Blade drains most of the water from the, leaving you both with a layer of clinging bubbles protecting the barest bits of your modesty. You cover your chest and center with your hands, keeping your head down. Hiding your throat. 

He refills the tub with more soap— too much probably. Mountains of bubbles appear as he dumps in a glug of shimmering, emerald-colored oil. It swirls into the water as it rises. You relax as it rises over your chest. Your eyelids droop. You look so tired. 

Blade washes you like you did him.  

You face each other as he does. Your gaze never leaves him, though it goes glassy again. Unfocused. Blade can feel your heartbeat through your skin, slowing more and more with each pass of the warm, soapy rag he is using. He massages products into your hair. He thinks that he may be doing so in the correct order. He hopes he is. 

This close, he can see all of you. Most of you. Feel you too. He feels ridges and bumps of scars. Chunks of flesh that have been torn from you, replaced by cicatrix, uneven and unnatural under his touch. You shudder when he touches you, shivering despite the heat of the room. You’re sensitive. He doesn’t want Kafka to know. 

You feel different like this. Blade is unable to place why. 

When he is through with you, steam and bubbles still rising from the bath, you drag him closer. Your fingers dig into his biceps, latching on and scrambling to get closer. 

“... You really mean it, don’t you?” You ask. Your eyes are still unfocused. “You’re not going to? You’re not fucking with me?” 

“... What are you talking about?”  

An unrestrained smile stretches over your face, “You do mean it. You do. You do.” 

Blade can only guess what you mean. You clearly will not (or cannot) tell him. You shiver against a full body thing against him. It makes him uneasy. He flips you by the hips, so that your back is to his chest, and he can curl over your shoulders. He cast a shadow into the water. 

Indulgently, he presses his nose into your cheek. You smell like fresh soap and skin. He thinks if he licked you, you’d taste like salt. 

He doesn’t. 

When that’s all he does, you laugh.  

It’s a belting thing, the kind of sound that’s punched from your gut with the same force that could break ribs. Blade can imagine the sound and sensation of it obliterating your insides as your laughter bounces around the tile of the bathroom. It’s manic. It’s an unwell sound. You clutch a fist over your chest as you howl.  

You don’t stop for a while. 

It’s clearly too much. Blade can feel it. The sound echoes in his chest. It must be shredding yours.  

His arm wraps around your midsection as you do, and he tries to press you closer— he thinks. He thinks it might help. Your breath starts to shake, each inhale pitching high and sharp. You’re hyperventilating around your laughter. You’re hysterical, but don’t fight his hold. Even as tears drip down your cheeks, splattering into the bathwater. 

Blade says your name— it should come out sharply. He means it to. 

However, it is gentle. His voice is hushed and rough. 

“You’re alright.” He squeezes you until the breath is forced from your lungs, and there’s no fuel for your laughter anymore. “You’re okay.” 

With a choked, quiet sob, you reply, “I know.” 

... 

It’s later— much later. Maybe the next day.  

Your room still doesn’t have any way to keep time other than your little tablet, which has been powered off and charges across the room on top of your dresser, so Blade can only guess. 

He lays beside you in bed, propped up on an elbow. You sleep next time to him, relaxed and soft-jawed. The soft duvet is pulled up to your collarbones, and you curl into Blade. He’s— warmer than the rest of your room. Even if he does run too cold to be properly alive.  

He runs the side of his index finger over your face.  

You had been so tired after leaving the bath, you’d hardly been able to dress yourself— you hadn’t been able to. Blade to pick out sleep clothes and help you get into them. He chose whatever he could find that seemed. Soft. 

(A flowing, soft teal top and white shorts with golden thread sewn in the seams.) 

You fell asleep quickly after that and have been ever since. Blade had only meant to sit on the edge of your mattress.  

That did not happen. 

Instead, he’s tucked next to you. One of your hands fists the front of his shirt, and your body is angled toward him. Seeking. Wanting. 

Blade could take. 

He recognizes that. 

It’s a thought, though, not a temptation. Not after the bath. Not after feeling the ways in which your body has been torn apart and so painstakingly put itself back together. You are not a creature of Abundance, you are not built to live forever and to repair yourself endlessly like he is. Your vitality is finite. Every scar your flesh must restitch takes something from you and it will not be replaced.  

You will end. 

Your bedroom door clicks, five times, then opens with a whoosh of air. Kafka stands in the doorframe. A sickly-sweet smile stains her mouth. Her lipstick is the is freshly applied and glossy. 

“I see you got all cleaned up, Bladie,” her voice is silken and smooth. He could drown in it. “Was our little pup helpful?” 

“... Yes.” 

“Good.” Kafka hums. Her heels click against the floor, and she takes a place next to you. Even as the mattress dips, you don’t stir. “You’re so helpful with training them. Good boy.” 

Blade pauses his petting of you to glare and grunt at Kafka. She looks delighted. 

“I wasn’t aware I was assisting with any sort of training.” 

“It’s all implicit. As long as they’re getting comfortable, that’s what counts. Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything else.” 

Blade doesn’t like that answer.  

“I don’t want to see them hurt,” Blade says. 

“That’s sweet of you.” 

“I mean it, Kafka.” 

“I know, I know.” Kafka laughs. She sighs and falls into the bed, over the cushy duvet. She spoons you, flattening herself to your back and winding her arms around your waist. Your brow wrinkles and a little whimper scratches from your throat. “I’d like to see our new puppy kept in one piece too, Bladie. I’ve grown quite fond of them. However, we are both beholden to Destiny. If one of Elio’s scripts—” 

“I know.” Blade snaps. 

He does not want to think about it. 

His hand that had been petting you winds tightly into your hair and your face scrunches up.  

“Listen, Bladie, everything’s alright. You’re okay.” Kafka soothes, dropping a kiss onto your cheek. It leaves a smear. Kafka works Blade’s hand out of your hair. “Be good and keep them company while I give Elio a mission report.” 

“That’s what I have been doing.” 

“Then, keep it up.” 

Kafka rolls out of bed with a sigh, not a hair out of place. She leaves the room almost soundlessly, the door clicking as it relocks. Five times. 

Blade does as Kafka says. He keeps you company, sinking down into the mattress beside you. He wipes away the lipstick left over your cheek and presses a kiss to the spot. He lingers there.  

Kafka can have— a lot of him. But, perhaps, he will covet you, all for himself.  

(If the Mara in his mind had not been suppressed, perhaps he would have heard: 

(FOOL FOOL FOOL! DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU COVET AND CLING? DO NOT FORGET YOUR SINS! DO NOT FORGET HIS SINS—!) 

Instead, his mind is quiet. He pulls you closer and sleeps. Space is dead around him, and you are dead to the world in his undying arms. 

Blade thinks he likes when you bathe with him.  

[soapcloth]

Statue!Ghost x reader - pt 2

CW: 18+ MDNI, noncon/dubcon elements, size kink, horror aspects, scopophobia, temporary loss of movement, derealization(?), large insertion, reader gets fingered by a statue pt 1 - not edited - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

It’s been getting worse. 

Ever since you became fearful of a giant marble statue prowling around your place of work, the duration of your shifts would stretch out- mangled and twisted by his presence. No one would pass through the warehouse, causing the towering labyrinth of stock to feel more like an ancient crypt than a museum's storage. 

In light of the phrase 'Out of sight, out of mind.' you had employed the company of a radio that hadn't seen daylight since the nineties to chase away the dread laving across your spine. It helped at first, finally letting you plug away at work, but it was shortlived- only lasting a moment before all sounds started to slowly wither away, leaving only you, your thoughts, and the distant scraping echo.

You couldn't decide which you disliked more; when you’d look away only to find him contorted into a new position, or when you actually saw it happen. Things that big, things with no fibrous muscle or supporting bone to speak of should not be able to move.

The hulking figure was fond of defying nature. 

He had begun to do something much worse than the previous two options, though. The first time you experienced it, there was a quiet rolling noise, distant and unfamiliar. Your base instincts screamed at you not to look, and yet.

He was in a new pose this time, playfully holding his skull-shaped death mask against his face. That itself would not have been too bad if not for the two gaping black pits where his unblinking gaze had resided Two eyes, wet as your own and boasting irritated veins peered at you from the hollow holes through blown, pitch black irises. Following you. 

Slowly, accompanied by the low hum of moving stone, the mask lowered to reveal his usual carved visage. Nothing was stated out loud but you could tell that against your will, something had shifted. 

He approached, agonizingly slowly, but directly and with thundering footfall. He knelt down before you, head swiveling as he got closer inorganically. You could hear laboured breath whistling through the notch in his still lips, examining it at this angle revealed a small hole that hadn't been there before. This alerted you to a fact that gave you pause- below thick stone skin there was a cavity with room to accommodate something you couldn’t possibly begin to fathom rattling around inside him. The thought sat at your eyes, too difficult to be transmitted through their receptors into your brain beyond a surface level acknowledgment. 

Up close, you could see that his motions were not as smooth as you had initially assumed; every inch moved labourous, awkward, and accompanied by the incremental jerk. 

He would get closer until his lips, though much larger, were level with your own. 

The contact came contradictorily, both expected- welcomed, and unheralded, an ice water shock to your system.

Something in your mind that had rationalized him as a thing had told you he was of flesh like you, but the kiss was chilled and unmoving. Stone fingers digging into the cement floor told you he was expecting reciprocity, leaving you with no other options but to accomodate embarassingly and press warm lips to stone. 

His marble head nudged to the side softly, leading you like a lamb to the notch. Your lips slowed as you were hit with the nausea that accompanied peering into a hollow otherside, too dark to see anything in there- and there was something in there.

All at once, you were accosted by visions of a man, a victor- every glimpse lasting only microseconds and each one incredibly overwhelming. 

Dizzy. 

You fell back with a crawling sense of paralysis taking over your body, and with a freezing touch, more gentle and reverent than you could have ever expected- he cradled you, dragging his big body back to his ornate podium to pet and nudge at you, head uncannily tilting with curiousity for each sound he managed to pull from you. 

Pulseless fingers prodded at you as you looked up at him and for a passing moment, he was man, both of the earth and grounded as a large finger slipped under your shirt, soft grit tracing at your belly. For a passing moment, expressionless monochromatic eyes were those of man too, incredibly melancholic and lonely before the emotion vanished, gone all to soon. 

Your monolith breathed as his finger curled downwards, dipping into your undergarments, playing with the hidden flesh, absorbing your warmth for himself. 

His touch heated, and you could hear distant cheers of a battle hard won and a band- no, a single instrument, perhaps a lyre? It sounded far off and intimate, but it was there; it's dulcet tones swimming around your head.

A big, warm hand fussed with your pussy, pumping in and out with an unspoken worship.

Too focused on the feeling, you could only barely make out his deep voice murmuring as he talked you through his touches, the blurred looming silhouette of your giant somehow bigger made mortal than he ever seemed in his effigy. 

With heavy lids you blinked, and then through your bleary gaze you caught sight of those crystal clear bloodshot eyes set over a black void on his undefined face. You gasped, pulling away as he examined you, invasive and unwelcome gaze the only thing you could make out of his vague form. Like you had been scorched by fire, suddenly all you could feel was the hot freeze of a stone finger dug inside your folds, pumping you full. he continued to nudge around inside you experimentally, stretching you out far beyond anything you were accustomed to. he kept the same deep and agonizingly deliberate pace as you writhed beneath his bulk, squinting as humid, laboured Shallow breath fanned your face, painting you in a wet sheen. You clenched around the solid intrusion; crying out as you came on the numbingly cold marble that met your skin.

You panted, sprawled across stone with swelling lungs as you gazed upwards at the silent image of a man. Coming to, you blinked as sunlight bled in through the raised skylights, soaking the back of his head in a white glow. He stared back through unmoving spheres as you gave a shaky, torturous heave, pulling yourself off him. Ache scorched your inner muscles as you staggered through the warehouse and to the stairwell doors. As with all things relating to him, the sting only got worse the more you acknowledged it. Pushing the pain to the back of your mind, you stumbled towards your waypoint, everything around you becoming more tangible as ambient sounds flooded and warmed your ears. You didn’t look back at the carved idol, but that was fine- watchful eyes would find you through troubled dreams.

[kabr0ztrousers]

OUGH that bugfic was plenty dark, thank you for your excellent work 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

also had another idea! fem!reader somehow finds herself as the stress-relief chew toy for an all male clan of Gnolls 👀 they were cast out by the matriarchs of their previous clans years ago, so they haven’t fucked in ages and are super pent up. she has a bad time at first, coming to terms with the fact that she belongs to them and she’ll never know the taste of freedom again, but eventually they break her, and she wouldn’t leave her new masters for anything in the world. if you have any ideas or alterations in mind, go wild!! i’d love to see what you come up with!

Kabr0z Writes episode 67: Chew Toy

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Noncon; kidnap; group sex; impregnation; knotting; corruption;

A/N: There's currently 42 requests in the queue, mixed in with the odd miscellaneous ask I'm not sure what to do with 😁

As always, please direct any requests to my ask box and they'll get written when they hit the top of the list

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Cultists raided the caravan. You were about 3 days out of Baldur's Gate headed south along the Sword Coast to Candlekeep when they attacked. Most of the group were captured, awaiting god knows what fate if you don't find a town with an Adventurer's Guild desk and get help. With any luck, the dirt road you're walking will lead to civilization and not some lost city or long-forgotten tomb

Hell, if you did find one of those, there's an even to good chance you'll find a party of adventurers there anyway. It's not like adventuring parties are hard to find, there's normally at least four per tavern.

The road came to an end at a cave. Because of course it did. You sighed and steeled yourself, this is precisely the kind of place you'll go to find a fighter, cleric, mage and/or rogue looking to seek fortune and fame. All you had to do was take those first steps into the scary cave.

The cave smelled of blood, and rotting meat. Not necessarily a bad sign. Nor were the wooden stakes driven into the ground in places, or the gnawed bones lying around. If anything that raised your hopes, an empty cave is just a cave, this is positively bait for a team of idealists hoping to make their name.

You went on, keeping to the shadows as you snuck in. This place defi isn't a goblin cave, there's no cookfires. Not an owlbear, there's too much worked material. A cackling, barking laugh answered your question.

Gnolls. Hyena-people, as big as an orc.

Sure enough, around the corner you saw a couple of gnolls wrestling. As big as the stories said, dressed in rags and furs, flint axes lying forgotten on the floor as they tried to grapple one another into submission.

Ok, some gnolls, but no heroes to beg for help. Not ideal, but at least you hadn't been seen. You stepped backwards, turning for the cave mouth. And stepped straight into a gnoll behind you.

The canine brute grabbed you and barreled forwards, yipping in excitement "Girl-thing! Yes! Yes!"

The others looked over to him, the two who were sparring broke from each other, the larger pawing over to you "Not us. Not replace. Need mother-leader"

The one holding you tore off your skirt "Not mother-leader. Woman. Fertile. Make new."

The big gnoll inspected you, sniffing your hair before grabbing a fistful and pulling it back to push his face into yours. He smelled of rotting meat and matted fur, an undercurrent of thick musk wafting from him "Have to do. Hold girl-thing. I go first."

The big gnoll grabbed your tit, squeezing hard and making you gasp. You tried to struggle and squirm against the grip of the one behind you as a clawed hand rubbed your folds. Wetness spread over your lower lips even as you tried to stop it. You were at odds with your body, praying to the gods these gnolls wouldn't get to have their way with you as your cunt invited him in.

"Girl-thing is ready." The big one put his slimy hand to his nose, sniffing it "Smells good. Bear lots of pups"

A blunt object pressed up against your cunt. You closed your eyes, pretending you were anywhere but here as it slipped in, the gnoll growling with satisfaction as he sank into your loins.

He sped up, grabbing you off the scrawny one, holding you up by your hips, arms under your knees, keeping you open.

He pressed you against a wall, pounding into your soaking cunt, the sound of your pussy being violated almost drowning out your sobs as you felt the leaking cock pushing up inside you.

You cried out as he hilted himself in you, the knot at the base of his cock expanding to trap you together as he stuck his tongue down your throat. His cum started to fill you up, the heat spreading through you as you stayed locked together.

He was still humping, even as he panted and spurted, the thick knot sending waves of pressure through you, bouncing between your cervix and your entrance. You could feel it pressing up against the inner parts of your clit, forcing against your g-spot. Your legs started to shake, your abs clench, and your hands grip the rough fur of the gnoll railing you as you came to your first wailing orgasm.

He howled as your pussy clenched and squeezed, milking him inside you. You didn't want to enjoy it, being fucked by this stinking brute, but you couldn't help but let a moan escape your lips as you humped into him, grinding your hips against his.

The knot popped out of you, the alpha gnoll dropping you as the next stepped up, the scrawny one this time.

He turned you onto your front, lifting your hips as your face ground into the dirt. No need for foreplay this time; your slobbering, open cunt welcomed his cock as he started thrusting. He was a little smaller than the first, but not by much. If he were a human, he'd still be considered amazingly well-endowed.

Your hand moved on its own, rubbing your clit as he fucked you, your hips rolling and waving against him as your mouth opened to allow whines and gasps of animal lust escape you. Again, a knot swelled up inside you as the second load of hyena-man cum pulsed into you. Your toes curled as you rubbed yourself harder, cresting the peak of another orgasm.

You ached. Your pussy was raw and punished, stretched and twitching as the second knot pulled from you and the third one took its place. You didn't even have enough energy now to moan. You just lay there, hindquarters presented an dripping cum as beast after beast took their turn on you. By the time the last male had pulled out, the alpha was ready for a second helping.

Round and around they went, filling you with a mix of potent cum, taking out their frustrations on you. By the time they were done you couldn't move, sprawled drooling and leaking on the cave floor, short breaths and sporadic twitching the only clues to your continued life.

Gnoll cubs come fast, within weeks of daily treatment you were already visibly pregnant. The pack was gentler with you now, you smelled like them and they could see you were carrying their young.

By the time you were halfway along, the former alpha was curled at your seat. Your hand idly scratching behind his ear as you watched your pack spar and bring home the hunt. They still hadn't figured out how to maintain a cookfire, and teaching them which wood was good for burning was tricky, but they just need a strong woman's hand to guide them.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know there's a reason you came here... It doesn't matter now.

You've got a pack to lead.

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Sorry this one was late! Shit happened last night and left me in no mood to write, so we're getting another Sunday double-bill.

Also meant I could put my whole pussy into this one, so to speak, so not all bad.

I was gonna have this one ending worse for Fem!Reader, but it felt better to invert the power dynamic at the end (plus I love gnolls as a player race in D&D and their equivalent in PF2e so I wanted to make them a little nicer)

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Pomegranate | Nikolai x F!Reader

Bonus content!

This is just a scene that I couldn't fit into the previous chapters but I wanted to treat you guys for being so enthusiastic over the last update 💕

cw: cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking,

Masterpost

There was a pale pink box sitting on the bed when you got out of the shower. Nikolai always found a way to make your jaw drop. It was a gorgeous lingerie set. Black silk with sheer tulle and blue-pink beaded embroidered flowers. Bra, panties and garter with matching stockings. He left the price tag on. You didn't even know a bra could cost almost a thousand pounds.

He was waiting for you in the living room, lounging on the couch, cigar in hand.

"You dance at the club, no?"

"Sometimes." It wasn't your strongest talent. You could shake ass when needed but you weren't a big moneymaker on stage like other girls.

"Want you to dance for me." He fiddled with the remote, dimming the lights and turning on music. "Come here."

You stood between his knees, trying to sway to the beat the best you could. He had a small smile as you turned to sway your hips and ass in his face. He looked more amused than turned on.

"I'm sorry." You stopped. You shifted between your feet. "I don't really do this part."

"You are not good, that is true." He stuck a finger under the bottom elastic of your bra. "Still pretty."

He snapped the elastic, "On your knees, over the coffee table."

Nik kept you between his legs on the couch, panties wet with his spend dripping out of you. You traced his tattoos. You wanted to ask about them. You'd heard a lot of Russian tattoos had deeper meanings.

"Kolya?"

"hmm?"

"What does this say?" you asked, underlining the Cyrillic letters on his chest. He huffed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"It's my mother's name. She killed herself when I was young."

"I'm sorry." You kissed his left pec. It was easy to forget that you both existed outside of this building. That you each had lives before this. You could guess all the horrible things he'd done to get to where he was, you never thought about all the horrible things that could have happened to him.

His face didn't betray any emotion as usual. He had two stripes of white in his beard, just faint lines. How old he was, you supposed you'd never know. Old enough to be born in a country that no longer existed, watch the wall crumble and all the chaos that followed. You dragged your fingers across the lines.

He chuckled and caught your hand, pulling your fingers into his mouth to nip at them.

"Don't remind me I'm old." His teeth skated across your knuckles.

"I don't think you're that old." He raised an eyebrow at you. "Most old men don't leave bruises on my hips like you."

He laughed, tugging you flush against him.

"Keep talking like that and I'll never send you back." A flutter of hope. Nik was a deeply awful man and you'd come to understand that what he did to Marcus was a show of restraint. He was the snake in the garden, Hades in the underworld, a fae - dangling fruit in your face hoping you'll take the bait.

He'd never let you go if you did.

This is pretty unedited but I felt like I owed you guys once again.

[jymwahuwu]

The jealousy noncon with Jing Yuan post is a scrumptious idea bc like I'm knowledgeable about sex, more so than my friends who have had sex,

This old man (affectionate) would be able to tell the reader is a virgin just how they react to any stimulation but now he's not gonna stop because he'll be their first (and preferably last) cause there's no way in hell he'll let anyone else take any of their firsts

And knowing Jing Yuan he'll manipulate the reader to believe that they wanted this

CW: yandere, non-con, forced breeding, humiliation, thoughts about virginity

Original idea: you, who pretended to be experienced in sex, were non-con by a jealous Jing Yuan, and he found out that you were a virgin...

🤭🫣😌Mmmmm wonderful yandere thoughts surrounding the concept of virginity… yes, just like you said. And Jing Yuan can quickly realize this. Once the jealous Jing Yuan finds out you are a virgin, how funny he will find it and return his affection…

Virginity is just a concept established by society. The concept of virginity must be different on all planets (ah, you heard that people on some planets lose their virginity when their tentacles touch other people's thighs…), what about your planet? You might mind what people think! So you just claim you've had sexual experience and brag about it.

Or, you don't care about the pressure of "how old should you be to have sex", and you already have understanding of sex, but you still lied in front of this Xianzhou general. You lied and suggested that you had sexual experience.

Why? The reason is… the way that general looks at you is a bit creepy, clingy and sweet, but occasionally he stares at his prey like a hunter standing at the top of the food chain. You kind of want to get out of this situation. It would be a simple way to show that you already have a "lover" or "experience".

Sure, it's nice to be exposed immediately, but what if it was a little more dramatic? What if Jing Yuan was deceived by you? This cat general was scammed into buying a lion as a pet after all. Are you pretending to casually reveal that you've had sex with your ex, with your friends, or a one-night stand, or anyone else besides him? You vaguely revealed that it feels pretty good…

An ill-advised lie. The development of the situation is completely beyond your expectation.

Before this, Jing Yuan thought that he was open-minded and tolerant and didn't care about your previous experiences. This is your freedom and your past, isn't it? But, hearing you mention those previous "experiences"…He…

Jing Yuan is used to facing situations out of control. He doesn't panic, just disappears with a little smile on his lips. "Is that so?" He tilted his head. "How about you come closer to me?" After you refused, the general swoop in, put one hand on your body, and looked down at you. The usual golden eyes carrying starlight were replaced by… jealousy?

He didn't restrain you, but you were too frightened to move.

"What…what do you want to do?"

A test has revealed your "truth." Those hands caress and rub your private parts - you tremble, panic, blink, sensitive and unskilled reaction. Jing Yuan originally only planned to give you a more intense orgasm than "before", but your reaction cleared up some of the fog for him. Something amiss was confirmed. Are you...a virgin? The general mocks you so mercilessly that you punch him with your cheeks burning and your eyes filled with tears. It was really funny to him to think of you showing off your experience. As the rough cock presses into you and stirs the inside, Jing Yuan gently shushes you in your ear and promises you not to talk about it with others.

Then the next day Jing Yuan spread the word to people you know that you slept with him and that you are his only and final spouse now uwu

And there's a punishment!! Since you like "bragging" about your sexual experiences so much, you don't mind this, do you? For the next week, Jing Yuan won't penetrate you, but masturbates in front of you, rubbing and stroking his thick, warm cock between your thighs. At the moment when the cock is about to ejaculate, it will insert into you and fill you up with cream, without any thrusting. Even if you twitch and whimper Jing Yuan won't give you the thrust you want. The way that suits you uwu

[mythosandthemorbid]

❤️‍🩹🔪Depollute Me, Pretty Baby - Chapter 3����❤️‍🩹

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

CW: abandonment issues, Stockholm syndrome (or, foreshadowing for it), hurt/comfort but it’s Ren and Strade so yk it’s gonna be fucked, blood, violence, sadism, rape/noncon, Ren Hana is here to stay (officially a pivotal part of the story), same warnings as the source material, Boyfriend to Death.

Type: Strade x reader, first person POV of the reader

I groaned softly as consciousness slowly returned, the sting of my wounds immediately pulling me back into reality. My side ached where Strade had dug his fingers in earlier, and the dull throb of my arm cuts made every small movement unbearable.

The cold concrete floor pressed against my skin, its harsh chill a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from the blood that had dried over my body. Everything hurt, a constant, nagging reminder that Strade had done something, even if I couldn't remember the details just yet. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.

"Mmgh... wuz hapenin.." I slurred, trying to piece together where I was. The room was dark, just like the last time Strade had left, and the silence wrapped around me like a blanket. I tried to sit up, my body protesting every movement. Something felt wet, warm... and ticklish. It wasn't right. I blinked groggily, my vision adjusting, only to be startled by a small yelp beneath me.

My eyes shot open. Ren– the fox boy who’d helped me previously–was between my legs, his eyes wide and panicked. "What doing has you?" I tried to demand, but my words came out jumbled, my mind foggy. Every part of my body ached too much to fight him off.

"I... I..." Ren stammered, his gaze darting around, avoiding eye contact. His chin glistened with something I instantly recognized–cum. The realization hit me as I tried to scoot away, but his claws dug into my thighs, holding me in place. The pain from his sharp nails sank into my flesh, intensifying the burning ache from my earlier injuries.

I winced, the discomfort shooting up through my body, but Ren's face contorted into something resembling desperation.

"Don't," he whispered urgently, his voice shaking as he clamped a hand over my mouth. "You'll get us caught," he hissed, his eyes flicking around the room nervously, as though Strade could walk in any second. His panic froze me in place.

His hands went back to my thighs, pulling me closer, and before I could comprehend what was happening, he lifted my legs over his shoulders and buried his face between them. His tongue darted out, exploring my folds with a practiced precision. I let out a small whimper, not sure whether it was from the pain of my wounds or the invasive sensation of his mouth. His tail wagged behind him, and he let out small purrs of contentment as if he couldn't hear the quiet sounds of discomfort leaving my throat.

Each flick of his tongue distracted me from the dull throb in my body. I couldn't push him away, even if I wanted to, not with my wounds. But as he continued, falling into a steady rhythm, I began to find that I didn’t quite mind as much as I thought I would. His grip on my had loosened, and even with his tongue he was being gentle, considerate. So, I lay there, forcing myself to stay still, trying to focus on the good parts. Ren seemed lost in his own world, oblivious to the pain I was in, or perhaps choosing to ignore it altogether.

After what felt like forever, he finally pulled back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. His eyes met mine, filled with nervous excitement. "I... I'm sorry," he muttered, "but I had to... I know Strade likes you. He has a fondness for you I.. I haven’t seen in awhile, and I think you'll survive… he’ll– he'll keep you." His words came out quickly, a strange mixture of guilt and hope. "I want us to get along. I can tell we're going to be best friends. I just thought... maybe this would help."

I stared at him, my body trembling from the pain. I’d tensed up again and it wasn’t helping at all, not with my wounds. I couldn't bring myself to be angry. I knew he was just as much a victim of Strade as I was. His wide-eyed innocence, his desperation to bond with me—it all made sense in a twisted way. I managed a weak smile, convincing myself I had to show him I wasn't upset. I couldn't afford to make an enemy of him, not here, not after he’d helped me.

He grinned at the smile I gave him. "I knew it," he whispered excitedly. "I knew you'd understand." He leaned in closer. "Strade doesn't know about this, but I think he'll appreciate me taking initiative. Still, let's keep it a secret for now."

I nodded, too exhausted to respond. Ren quickly gathered himself and slipped away, leaving me alone again in the cold, dark basement. My body ached, each wound pulsing with a sharp, relentless pain, with nothing to distract me anymore.

I wondered if I should try to move closer to the pole again. Ren didn’t seem concerned with it, and I had no idea how Strade had left me, so I decided to stay put. Every part of my body ached, and the thought of dragging myself across the cold, hard floor made my stomach twist with dread. The pain flared up with every shallow breath, my wounds pulsing angrily with the slightest movement.

The darkness around me felt suffocating, swallowing me whole. Silence pressed in from all sides, amplifying the throbbing in my wounds and the gnawing fear that maybe this time, I’d been left behind. Forgotten. Abandoned.

The thought brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes, my breath hitching as I tried to stifle the sobs rising in my throat. I can’t be alone. Not like this. My chest tightened with the fear, with the loneliness, but my body was too weak to even try to fight it off. The tears came anyway, hot and heavy, as I curled in on myself as much as my aching body would allow.

Every second felt like an hour, every small sound making my heart race in anticipation. I needed him to come back—needed—even though I knew he was the one who’d left me here in the first place. The pain and the fear muddled everything in my mind, making it hard to remember why I should be afraid of him. Right now, I just needed someone. I needed him.

My stomach growled loudly, reminding me how long it had been since I’d eaten, but I barely noticed it past the pain. Just when I thought I might scream from the silence, I heard it—the familiar creak of the door at the top of the stairs.

My heart leapt, relief washing over me like a wave as the heavy footsteps grew closer. Strade. He was back. I blinked away my tears, trying to calm my breathing as I waited for him to reach me. The door creaked open fully, and in the dim light, I saw his familiar silhouette descending the stairs.

“Moin, moin, buddy,” Strade’s voice rang out cheerfully, his tone far too bright for the situation. But hearing it, the tension in my body lessened. At least I wasn’t alone anymore. I managed a weak smile, though it barely reached my eyes.

His boots echoed against the floor as he approached me, crouching down beside me with that same carefree grin on his face. “Did you miss me?” he asked, almost teasing, reaching out to brush a tear from my cheek. “That’s a pleasant surprise,” he murmured.

I nodded, unable to hide the tremble in my hands. “I… I couldn’t sleep.”

Strade chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Aw, you poor thing. All alone in the dark,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased. “Don’t worry. I’m here now.”

I sniffled, my throat too dry to respond, and watched as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a granola bar. “You’ve got to keep your strength up if you’re going to last, ja?” he said, unwrapping it for me. “Here. Eat.”

I opened my mouth slightly, not bothering to reach for it myself. My arms were too weak, my body too tired to even attempt it. He brought the bar to my lips, watching me closely as I took small bites, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Good job,” he praised softly, stroking my hair once I’d finished. “You’re cooperating so well today. I’m proud of you.”

I didn’t respond, my breath hitching again as the reality of the situation settled back in. Strade was back, yes, but so was the pain. And I knew that was what he enjoyed the most.

“Well, now that you’ve had breakfast,” Strade began, his grin widening, “we need to take care of those nasty little wounds. Can’t have you falling apart on me so soon, rechts?”

I flinched as his hand ghosted over one of the cuts on my arm, a fresh jolt of pain shooting through me. He laughed softly at my reaction, clearly enjoying it. “Ah, so sensitive. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle when I can. Can’t promise I’ll always be able to restrain myself, though...”

He pulled out a small first aid kit, setting it beside him as he started to move me into a sitting position. I whined softly, trying to help him as much as I could, but my body was too weak to be of much use. Every movement sent sharp, burning pain through my limbs, and I bit down on my lip hard to keep from crying out.

Strade hummed happily to himself, adjusting my position with ease, though his eyes never left my face. He watched every wince, every pained expression, his grin growing wider with each one.

“You don’t need to hold back,” he murmured, reaching for a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Go ahead, let it out. Scream if you need to. I love it when you scream for me.”

He poured a generous amount of the alcohol onto a cloth and pressed it to one of the deeper wounds on my side. The pain was immediate and excruciating, and despite my best efforts, I let out a choked yelp, my body jerking involuntarily.

“That’s it,” he cooed, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Gut gemacht. I knew you had it in you.” His hand lingered a moment longer on the wound, applying more pressure than necessary, as if savoring my agony.

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but I didn’t fight them this time. It was pointless. Strade wanted this. He wanted me to cry, to scream, to suffer for him.

As he continued to clean my wounds, occasionally slipping into German, his tone almost affectionate. I gave him an hesitantly appreciative look, despite not knowing what he was saying exactly. “So mutig,” he whispered, “so schön,” as his fingers brushed over the raw skin. His touch was soft at times, but it never lasted long before the pain returned, sharp and unrelenting.

The strangest part was that, despite the pain, despite everything, a part of me was still relieved he was here. He had a way of making it feel like I wasn’t completely alone, like my suffering mattered to someone. Odd as it was, it was better than the crushing silence.

“There, all done,” Strade finally said, standing up and wiping his hands clean. “You did so well, liebchen. I’m proud of you.” He leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of my head.

I blinked, the exhaustion from the pain overwhelming me as I tried to process everything. My body trembled, but I couldn’t help but feel the faintest warmth at his words. I hated how much I needed his approval, but right now, it was all I had.

Strade smiled down at me, his eyes glinting with slight amusement. “You’ll be perfect for me, you know. Just the way I like you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked up at Strade, my body aching from the wounds he’d inflicted. The silence had gnawed at me, filling me with the unbearable fear of being forgotten, left alone. “A-are you going to do something?” I asked softly, almost hopeful that he would, if only to keep me close.

Strade looked down at me with a broad grin, his expression far too cheerful for the situation. He tilted his head, pretending to consider my question before laughing. “Oh, no, not today! I’ve roughed you up way too much for that right now. Can’t risk breaking my favorite toy, can I?”

My heart raced, a strange mixture of relief and disappointment flooding through me. I didn’t want him to hurt me, but the fear of being left alone again made my chest tighten.

He crouched beside me, lifting my chin with a rough hand, his touch almost playful. “But don’t worry, I’m not gonna leave you alone.” His eyes gleamed as he added, “I’ve got plans. I’m in a really good mood, so I’m going out to find some new toys to play with.” His tone was light, as if he were talking about nothing more serious than running errands.

I blinked, the words catching in my throat. New toys. Right… I wasn’t going to be part of that. A small wave of comfort washed over me, but it didn’t completely chase away the anxiety gnawing at the edges of my mind.

Strade ruffled my hair, his grin widening. “You’ll be staying in the side room while I’m out. It’s cozy in there, you’ll like it. And hey, this way you don’t get jealous when I bring someone else back to ‘play with.’ Wouldn’t want that, would we?” He winked, clearly amused by his own little joke.

I forced a small smile, not wanting to upset him. “No… I wouldn’t.”

“Good.” He stood up, offering his hand. “Now, up you go.”

I reached for his hand, but my muscles screamed in protest, making it impossible to stand. Strade chuckled and tugged me up just enough to get me crawling. “Go on, that’s it. Crawl your way to the side room. Don’t worry, I’ll help a little.”

He supported me just enough to keep me moving, but it was still humiliating, the feeling of helplessness sinking in deeper with each painful movement. The ache in my body was overwhelming, but I focused on getting to the room, desperate to not be left behind in the cold, dark basement.

Finally, we reached the side room. It was warmer, with a couch, a small TV, and a table with snacks and drinks—almost homey compared to the rest of the basement. Strade helped me onto the couch, letting me collapse against the cushions with a sigh of relief. My body still throbbed, but at least here, it felt a little more bearable.

“Now,” Strade said, pulling a metal shock collar from behind his back (how long had he had that for?), “just so you don’t get any funny ideas…” He fastened it around my neck, the cold metal biting into my skin. The click of the chain connecting me to the wall echoed through the room, sealing my fate. I winced at the weight of it, knowing that I wasn’t going anywhere.

“There. All set.” Strade gave the chain a light tug, testing its strength, before standing back up. “I’ll leave you with someone so you don’t get lonely, though.”

Before I could ask what he meant, the door creaked open, and a boy with wild orange hair and wide, curious eyes stepped inside. I recognized him immediately—Ren. He seemed much more relaxed now, though, his tail wagging slightly as he looked between me and Strade.

“This is Ren,” Strade introduced cheerfully, clapping a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “He’ll be keeping you company while I’m out. You two should get along just fine.” His smile widened as he glanced down at me. “Ren’s got his own collar too, but he’s earned the privilege of moving around without a chain.”

Ren smiled at me, his excitement clear. “Hi! Strade said you’re new here. Don’t worry, we’re gonna get along great!” His eyes sparkled with a strange kind of enthusiasm, and it was clear he didn’t share my anxiety about the situation. He was doing a good job at pretending we hadn’t met before, too.

Strade gave me a final pat on the head. “Now, don’t go causing trouble, yeah? Ren’ll help you out with anything you need—food, drinks, whatever. You’re too beat up to do much on your own right now, but you’ll get better.” He smirked, his voice softening into a mockingly sweet tone. “I want you nice and healed up for when I come back. After all, I can’t have you getting in the way while I break the fresh meat.”

I nodded weakly, still trying to process everything. Ren seemed eager, almost too eager, but at least I wasn’t going to be left completely alone. That was something. The last thing I wanted was to be abandoned, left to rot in the dark.

Strade gave me one last grin before turning on his heel and heading for the door. “Be good, both of you! I’ll be back soon, and don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of fun stories to share when I do.”

As the door creaked shut behind Strade, the silence weighed heavily in the room. I glanced at Ren, who was fidgeting, his tail twitching behind him as if trying to keep up with his restless energy. His eyes flickered between me and the floor, his nervousness palpable.

“I’m, uh… sorry,” he mumbled, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, almost ashamed. “About… everything.”

For a moment, I didn’t respond. The ache in my body and the fear of being abandoned still loomed large, but Strade had reassured me—he’d be back. I just had to hold on to that. And Ren… maybe there was potential there. If I made myself important enough to both of them, maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about being left behind again. That thought was enough to ease some of the tension in my chest.

“It’s okay,” I whispered after a beat. “We just have to… make it through this.” My voice was weak, but sincere.

Ren looked up, his ears twitching slightly. He gave a small, hesitant nod, but then his entire demeanor seemed to shift. He perked up, a sudden excitement flashing in his eyes. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right!” His tail wagged a little, his nervousness melting away. “We’ll make it through this. And hey, at least we’ve got each other now, right?”

His newfound enthusiasm was almost contagious. I couldn’t help but feel a small bit of relief—it was better than being completely alone.

Ren sat up straighter, clearly trying to make the best of things. “So… what do you want to do? I mean, there’s not much, but…” He trailed off, then grinned as if struck by inspiration. “Wait, I know! How about I put on something fun? We could watch my favorite anime.”

Before I could respond, Ren hopped up and grabbed the remote, flicking on the TV with an almost childlike excitement. The screen flickered to life, and he quickly found his favorite show. “You’ll love this one,” he said, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “It’s got action, cool characters, and… well, you’ll see!”

He hurried over to the small stash of snacks and drinks, gathering a few things and setting them down on the table near me. “Here, I got us some stuff.” He popped open a bag of chips and offered me a drink, his energy so vibrant that it was hard not to smile.

I shifted slightly, wincing at the pain from my wounds. Ren noticed immediately and frowned. “Hold on, let me help with that.” He moved over to me, his hands gentle as he carefully repositioned me on the couch, mindful of the aching spots Strade had left behind. His touch was much softer than I expected, a stark contrast to Strade’s rough handling.

He settled back after a moment, glancing at me with concern. “Better?”

“Yeah… thanks,” I said, offering him a small smile. It wasn’t forced this time. Ren might’ve been part of this twisted world, but at least he wasn’t hurting me. In fact, he seemed to want to help.

“Good!” Ren grinned again and settled next to me, though his focus remained on making sure I was comfortable. “You’ve been through a lot��� but don’t worry, I’ll take care of you while Strade’s out. Promise.”

He shifted again, his hands moving to gently massage my shoulders, careful not to aggravate my injuries. “I can tell you’re stressed,” he murmured. “Just relax, okay? I’ve got some painkillers too. You’ll feel better soon.”

His hands moved in slow, soothing circles, and despite the pain, I felt myself relaxing more than I thought possible. The TV played in the background, but Ren was the main focus—his care, his attentiveness, his effort to make me feel less alone.

I sighed softly, letting the tension in my body ease as he continued his gentle ministrations. The pain was still there, but it was muted by the growing sense of comfort. Ren wasn’t just some mindless follower; he was trying to make this bearable, and I could work with that. I needed him to see me as someone worth keeping around, someone irreplaceable.

As Ren kept chatting about the anime on TV and the snacks he’d picked, I found myself warming up to him more. The forced smile I’d worn earlier started to soften into something genuine. I laughed a little at his enthusiasm, the sound surprising even me.

“See? I told you we’d get along!” Ren beamed, clearly pleased with my reaction.

I nodded, leaning into his care. “Yeah… I think we will.”

And for the first time in not just the past few days, but in awhile, I didn’t feel so alone.

[yawnderu]

What is, for you, a turn off for Simon?

Like... Things that immediately make his cock go down

Personally, I think Simon wouldn't like to be called ''daddy'', he just doesn't get it and doesn't find it hot. Would make him a bit uncomfortable, either gently asking you not to call him that, or removing himself from the situation if you decide not to listen to him. It's downright uncomfortable for him.

Another one would be you hurting him. A slap or a hit, and even choking him would be a huge turn off. Consent is the base of having sex with Simon, so you purposely hurting him without even thinking about asking is just a huge no for him.

Similar to the previous one— you asking him to hurt you in extreme ways. He wouldn't mind some very light choking, but you asking him to punch, slap, hit, or cut you would simply make his cock go soft. He wants to make love, not form part of a violent porno.

cw!! talks of noncon.

Any dirty talk that just... goes dark. You asking him to stop and hoping he keeps going is just a huge no. The moment you ask him to stop or look mildly uncomfortable, he'll stop. Any claims or behaviors that might make it seem like he's taking advantage of you or purposely hurt you will make him stop and get a soft cock.

Simon doesn't even consider roleplaying noncon or CNC, and even as someone who writes darkfics from time to time, I personally believe it's a huge deal breaker for him. He wants to make love, not to feel like he's raping you.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

A Lovesick Leviathan

Male Leviathan x Gender Neutral Slime Reader (CW: Painless noncon, inhuman reader, size difference, kidnapping, magical branding, temporarily frozen reader, general yandere behavior, minor character death, extreme violence towards minor character) Word count: 3.3k (Piece developed with a lot of input and help from @maxog3n, they also did the amazing art posted with this piece. I am sorry this took so long, but really hope you all enjoy it.)

Screams of pain, some ominous cracking sounds, and then silence.

Auggie let out a defeated sigh as he peeled the body of the human he had just fucked to death off of his cock, their pulverized insides mixed with his blue cum and leaking out everywhere.

Like the others that had died to his amorous pursuits, he hadn’t meant to kill them. In fact, he had loved each one of them and wanted them to be his mate. He carefully determined a suitable candidate, brought them home against their will, and eventually couldn’t contain his lust anymore and fucked them.

The problem was that he was not human. He was a leviathan and his massive member was simply too huge, both long and thick, and his thrusts were powerful. None survived even a single round with him.

He shed a tear as he buried his latest victim.

Then he wiped it away and immediately regained his usual jovial composure. That’s okay, they just weren’t “the one”. He had to expect these kinda snags every now and then if he was going to put himself out on the market.

It was just how dating worked.

Auggie decided that he needed to clear his mind and leave his shack for a while. Get some fresh air. Maybe he would add to his collection of items. Much like a mermaid, leviathans like him hoarded trinkets and baubles.

He made the decision to hit up the old abandoned building a few miles up the coast from his seaside abode. He did not know what the building had once been for, but he was very adventurous and was always looking for new stuff to add to his collection of treasures or materials to extend his shack with.

The leviathan definitely didn’t feel like going into town. Sure, the humans all fled and he could take whatever he wanted, but he did not want to deal with the panicked screams. Plus, he had already done that a dozen times, he wanted to explore somewhere new. And besides, the town was a lot farther than the abandoned facility and he didn’t feel like being out too late. Not with the long he had.

Auggie left the confines of his ramshackle house, and waded into the water, the blood from his previous “mate” leaving a faint trail of blood behind him as he swam up the coast towards his destination.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You were thrilled, your home was finally starting to feel cozy. Or whatever passed as cozy for a saltwater slime.

Spending all your life in the water just did not appeal to you, the surface was just so fascinating. You had spent a little time among some open-minded humans, but you longed to be closer to the sea.

So when you found a brine filled desalination plant completely abandoned for you to do with as you pleased you knew you had found a home from which you could explore the surrounding land and retreat to should the need arise.

It had taken a while, a little over a month, for you to tidy the place up and get things how you liked it. You had decorated the place with seashells, dead corals, and current smoothed glass to make everything feel more natural. You had even covered the first floor with a thick layer of sand!

Everything was perfect.

Just when you were admiring the work you had finally completed when you heard the stomping of a large animal of some type approaching.

You peered out the window and gasped.

A huge… thing… approached.

You had no idea what he could be. You only assumed it was a he because of the giant uncut cock flopping from below the most tiny and useless loincloth imaginable.

The lumbering behemoth had a chubby build, striking blue skin, scales from his ankles to his knees and from his wrists to his elbows, he had fins where a human’s ears would be, sharp teeth, and his dark medium length hair wasn’t hair at all, but instead a writing mass of tentacles.

He came closer and closer to the desalination facility, your home, it was clear it was his intent to enter and not just pass by like you had hoped.

The best option was to hide yourself. Luckily you were crystal clear, like gooey water, and could camouflage yourself easily.

There were many steel barrels along the wall to catch water from a sometimes leaky roof, you decided to hop in, even if he peeped in all you would just blend right in with the water that was in it.

Seconds after you got in you heard the door creak open.

Auggie took a few steps in and looked around the place, getting a handle of his surroundings.

The place had sand everywhere. And dried corals, shells, and smooth glass everywhere. Odd. It clearly wasn’t as abandoned as it had appeared to be from outside.

Maybe there was a potential mate here! If he wanted to find his soul mate he knew he had to be open minded about finding his partner wherever they may happen to meet.

And whoever called this place home had an aesthetic he enjoyed. They lived in a run down building not entirely unlike his shack, they were opportunistic like he was and they decorated the place to be like the ocean from which he originated.

He was sure he would get along well with whoever lived here.

You could not see him from your current position in the barrel, but you could hear him walking around and sniffing as if hunting for something.

Auggie explored every nook and cranny, using his sensitive nose to guide him, but even though it was clear as day that someone was using this as a home he could detect no scent other than that of saltwater.

Shrugging his shoulders, he decided to return to his original mission, seeking out trinkets for his treasure hoard and possibly materials to build with.

He found some rope and used it to tie some sheets of metal to his back, but other than that he hadn’t found much for his home. Carrying these he wouldn’t be able to swim back, he’d have to walk back at a leisurely pace.

Auggie started to head towards the doors to leave, as he did you heard the sound of his footsteps retreating and were so relieved.

But it was premature, he was disappointed in his haul so he took one last glance around the room just in case he missed something. He spied some pristine barrels in the corner. He could always use a nice new barrel!

The giant invader found one that was full of water, likely from that storm last night, it was pretty hot and since he had to walk back a refreshing splash of water would be nice and cooling should he need it on the return trip home.

You panicked as you and the water around you sloshed as he picked up the container that was currently serving as your hiding place. But your only option was to remain hidden for as long as you possibly could and make a break for it when you could.

Despite not having a traditional stomach you still felt very nauseous at being jostled with every step your unwitting kidnapper made. With how you were disoriented, you could not even give an accurate estimate of how long you had been in your current predicament, what was probably just thirty or forty minutes felt like unending hours.

Finally the moving about came to a stop, maybe he was home, maybe he would leave the container outside to use for water collection, you dared to hope. But these hopes were short lived as the behemoth lifted the container up and poured it over himself to cool off, causing you to tumble out in your default humanoid shape and reflexively grab on to whatever you could to prevent falling.

Whatever you could grab was the man who invaded your home, your gel-like arms around his broad shoulders.

You stared at each other for a moment until Auggie got a slight blush that was quickly replaced by a huge grin, revealing two rows of razor sharp teeth.

A brand new romantic interest just fell right into his lap! Well, you weren’t on his lap yet, but there would be time for that soon enough.

When you had recovered from the shock of being dumped directly on to this strange blue man you pushed yourself off of him and fell to the ground with a wet plop.

You started running.

“Hey wait! That’s really rude! I haven’t decided if I’m your boyfriend yet!!!”

What the hell was wrong with this guy? You heard him utter some strange mystic sounding words before hearing an odd whoosh and suddenly you felt indescribably heavy. Your vision frosted over and you fell over. Hard.

Everything was so cold, you couldn’t move at all! You had been completely frozen, evidently this crazy man had ice magic. Just your luck.

“Don’t worry, I am pretty sure I will be your boyfriend! I liked all the décor in your former home. We have so much more in common than the people I normally date!”

He walked up to you slowly, picked you up carefully, and then placed you back in the barrel he had been unwittingly hauling you in.

This manner of being handled was… humiliating to say the least.

Once again you were jostled around in the barrel, now without water and with more pain in your newly acquired solidified form. It was so restrictive. You were used to being more free moving than what a solid being was capable of and now here you were completely paralyzed.

Once again, the trip felt like it was taking an eternity. Except now it was worse, as every second was punctuated by the deep seated fear of what may become of you when the journey ended.

You also were forced to contend with the large man’s non-stop talking.

“I’m Auggie! I am so glad we met. I think it was probably fate. Like we were meant to find each other! I haven't met many slimes before. Only a couple times when swimming and I couldn’t see them well enough in the water to bring them back to date…”

You tuned Auggie out after a while. He just wouldn’t stop talking about how happy he was and how he had been in need of a new partner.

Finally you thawed out enough to talk, though you were still too stiff to move quickly.

“What is wrong with you!? We are NOT dating!!”

“Oh~ You have such a lovely voice! I am so happy to hear it. We are definitely dating now so I can hear you talk everyday~”

He hummed happily as he continued about his merry way, leaving your objection completely unacknowledged.

“Excuse me!? I just said we are NOT dating!!”

Though the words he spoke were… demented… he said them in the same happy go lucky jovial tone with which he had been speaking, “Don’t be silly, of course we are. I already was sure I would like you based on your home and with us both being sea critters, but after hearing your voice I simply can’t be without you~ I am so sorry if I implied you have a choice!”

After letting out a defeated whimper you went silent.

Auggie continued babbling about all the stuff the two of you would do together. As your destination approached he started running, he was just so eager to get you nice and settled in your brand new home.

You grunted in annoyance as you were bounced about in your glorified bucket.

“Oh. Heh heh. Sorry, I just got carried away.”

He slowed down to a brisk walk the rest of the way.

“We’re here!” He shouted in a chipper manner. For a totally psychotic kidnapper hellbent on forcing you to be in a relationship he sure was cheerful.

The barrel was placed down with a thud before he pulled you out. You were thawed to the point of being like a slurry and his warm hands felt rather nice.

Though you’d still rather be anywhere else.

You saw his home and were shocked, how could anyone live in something like this? It was a towering mass of junk. Large slabs of metal and wood cobbled together. It was actually kinda impressive how structurally sound it appeared to be despite the building materials used in its construction.

Auggie slung your chilled form over his shoulders without warning, eliciting a startled sound from you.

He opened the doors and set you down on a rugged chair that was clearly meant for beings around your size. Humans.

How many people had been forced to accept Auggie as their “boyfriend”. Were you going to die here?

You took stock of your surroundings, if you were ever going to escape you would need to know potential weapons, escape routes, and hiding places.

But honestly you didn’t even know where to start, the building was huge as it was meant for such a large being like Auggie. And it seemed like he had the same inclinations as mermen when it came to collecting objects of interest. Though instead of valuables like coins, gems, and shells Auggie seemed to be interested in… a different sort of collection.

Mounted on the wall as if some sort of poster was a set of doors that read “Tony’s Bar and Bistro”. Standing in the corner was a surfboard that looked as if a bite had been taken out of it with a lifebuoy around it. Other items strewn about the place included a slot machine, street signs, and a child’s tricycle.

There were random items in all sorts of places.

The ceiling was no exception. Hanging upside down from the ceiling, above even Auggie’s head, were several random and out of place items. Though the strangest of all was a… parking meter? You couldn’t be sure, you had only stealthily visited a human city a couple times.

None of this stuff helped you though, and it seemed the only way out was through the large front door.

Without any warning Auggie crouched down in front of you and stared intensely with a smug grin.

“I bet right now you are thinking of ways to leave aren’t cha? Without even giving our love a chance! Don’t worry I will take the burden of worrying about freedom away!”

He held his webbed pointer finger to your chest and muttered a complex incantation. You didn’t notice it before but he had a tattoo in the shape of a trident on his thigh, it glowed with a blue light as he uttered his spell and suddenly you had a matching tattoo marked on your chest.

It didn’t harm you at all, but his wicked grin coupled with the mark’s magical origins worried you.

“Wh-what’s that…?”

“Do you like it? It’s my brand! It means you’re alllll mine~”

You gave a face of disgust.

“It’s okay if you don’t believe it yet, some people are just slower learners. That’s okay.”

Your only reply was to glare at him silently.

“You’re never leaving me.”

You chose to just keep shooting him an angry look. It didn’t matter what he thought, you would slip away at the first opportunity. You were a slime, slippery and versatile, there were very few ways you could be contained long term. And he couldn’t just keep re-freezing you every single time you bolted.

“Haha, what? Don’t believe me dummy? Okay then… go ahead…”

With a smirk he got up and went to the door, holding it wide open for you.

“Go on, leave.”

He gestured you out the door and you didn’t hesitate, maybe he thought he could freeze you, or close the door, or push you back somehow, but were prepared for anything. You were positive that the smug expression was wiped from his face as you took on a taller and slimmer shape and zipped on by before he could react.

You got maybe all of 15ft. away from the shack before you were yanked back by some invisible force and landed on the ground.

“What th-”

You heard the heavy footsteps of your captor approach from behind.

“Have you caught on yet cutie? I told you, you’re allll mine~ My little mark on you ties you to me, you will never be able to go very far.”

For the first time that day you truly felt despair. The thought you could get away was the sole barrier that had prevented you from giving in to the filling of hopelessness that now threatened to consume you, but that was gone now. You were left with nothing but soul crushing helplessness… that and Auggie.

He scooped you up and carried you back to his house laying you in his large and rather decadent bed, a stark contrast to the ramshackle state of the rest of his home.

Auggie stood by the bed and positioned your legs to hang off of it, you guessed at what he was planning but were too caught up in your sense of doom and despair to react properly or mount even the slightest resistance.

“Awww, don’t be sad darlin’, this’ll be fun!” He chuckled with his normal sense of joy and lack of care for what anyone else wanted.

The leviathan stroked his cock to its staggering full length and lined it up between your legs.

You did not have an entrance there. Slimes simply absorbed plankton or other nutrient sources through their membranes and deposited what was indigestible in the same manner, and there was no conventional reproductive system. Slimes of your type would meet, partially join limbs, and create an egg.

But that sure didn’t stop Auggie from penetrating you anyway.

Luckily your slime body was extremely durable and felt little pain from such actions. He slammed into you right through your membrane, gripping your sides as he pulled you down to the base. His blue precum leaked into your body, leaving blue streaks where it dissolved.

He moved you back and forth like a fleshlight, like you were just some toy for his pleasure, not a living being with your own agency.

You were entirely limp in his hands, just a nice gooey warmth around his cock, feeling neither pleasure or pain from his ever increasing thrusts.

No, as you stared up at him, being moved back and forth on his cock, the only thing you felt was an uncomfortable pressure. And an overwhelming sense of violation.

Finally he pushed in as far as he could, his dick drilling all the way into your head as he unleashed his glowing blue cum into you. He let out a relaxed sigh as his cock lay inside you throbbing, still drooling more and more seed into you from his huge nuts.

Auggie finally pulled out of you, his semen had made your entire body swell considerably and it turned you from clear and transparent to a bright and faintly glowing blue as your body absorbed it like food.

“Oooh, you took my cock so well and became even prettier! It definitely means you’re meant for me! And it looks like my cum is good food for my gooey little darling too~ Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to feed you plenty EVERY. DAY.”

Your existence as a slime, what once granted you versatility and mobility. What you considered a blessed existence better than being a restrained solid, was now the cause of your loss of any freedom.

Because now that Auggie was in love with a mate that his cock couldn’t kill he was never going to let you go.

[yzashaven]

CW // yandere themes, kidnapping, noncon/dubcon, light(?) exhibitionism + not proofread

2nd part

thinking about...

yandere idol!scaramouche who gets jealous easily. when he found out that you were supporting your friend who was an aspiring idol, it ticked him off in a way that sent an unexplainable rage within. "what do you mean you're going to his show instead of my stadium concert?!" in the end, he let you go since you were always at his previous concert tours anyway. you always are. but a few hours after your friend's show, you could feel a presence from somewhere behind you. and just like that, your vision goes dark as you feel your head spinning. what just happened...?

ㅡ♡

muffled moans attempt to escape your lips one after another, a difficult task since your mouth was gagged. helplessly laying there was all that you could do as scaramouche had tied you up in a mating press, hips snapping against yours sharply as his gaze is piercing through yours, watching your fucked out expression as you struggle against him.

looking to your side, you notice your said friend tied up in a chair. your eyes widened at the sight. to which scaramouche chuckles before slapping your cheek, forcing you to face him instead. "don't look at him, darling. look at me." he says in a seemingly loving yet dark manner before facing the man beside, "you witnessing this, right? right?!" grunts and groans in between his words, "see? m-my... slut. not yours. all mineㅡngh~ so you better stay the fuck away, got that?" his glare is towards the man yet the rest of his body actions focus on you, thrusts increasing in pace and reaching deeper, sweeter spots. there's not much you could do in such a situation, might as well enjoy the ride. you can worry about your poor friend later.

[thinkingofausername]

Mutual Misunderstanding (Astarion x Tav)

Summary: Tav has doubts after sleeping with Astarion and leaves him to wake up alone. He draws the worst conclusion.

A/N: This was my first attempt at writing a fanfic and MAN do I have even more respect for fic writers than I already did. This is based on a request/prompt of mine that I posted some time ago.

CW: mention of sex, insecurity, mental health issues, PTSD, mention of noncon, mention of vomiting, bad coping mechanisms, miscommunication, it all ends well though

Tav woke up with the bright heat of the morning sun on their face. They rubbed their eyes and stretched with a pleased sigh before looking at their surrounding. When their gaze fell on Astarion, something in them tightened their chest and pulled the corners of their lips into a small, giddy smile.

For a person doomed to have the sun as his enemy, he looked divine in its glow. His soft curls looked even whiter than usual, his face uncommonly peaceful. No smirk, no snark, just his features, so soft and off guard it caused a fondness to bloom in their chest.

His shirtless chest rose and fell calmly, though he needn't take any breaths at all. Some phantom need, or habit, perhaps. Though his skin was like marble, practically golden in the light, it arose no heat within them. They simply found him beautiful.

They recalled the previous night like a warm, panting, thrilling rush of glimpses. Though filled with passion led by quite an experienced person, they found themselves seeing it as quite... genuine. Astarion knew they haven't had many experiences in the sheets and that they found themselves at a loss at what to do. He gently took the reigns and they had felt genuine safety and care.

Like the sudden feeling of grass beneath their naked back as grogginess gives way for clarity, some overthinking, insecure voice reared its head and paved the way for regret.

All the caresses felt smooth as silk, how many others felt them? All the whispers and rumbles of his voice toyed with their heartbeats, how many others can recall that? All the promises of pleasure and consent reassured them, how many others have had their doubts quelled in such ways?

All that had felt so true and blissful was rapidly becoming nauseating. With all the countless "dances" of his, how can one know spontaneous steps from practiced ones? How could they be sure they were pleasurable enough, appealing enough, exciting enough? They felt a new chapter turning for the two of them, a genuine and loyal one. Now they weren't sure of anything. Now they felt foolish, naïve, played. Gods forgive them, they cared for Astarion so much, but that damned elven, bastardly, precious vampire had them feeling like a cheap one-night-stand. They couldn't blame him but they couldn't think either.

As quickly and quietly as possible, they got dressed and rushed back towards the camp.

When Astarion woke up, he turned on his side towards Tav's smell which still lingered and reached out. His eyes sprang open as his hand met only air and ground. It took him a second to gather himself, remember where he was and what he had been doing. He couldn't even think of the fact he had slept without a nightmare in gods know how long, or that last night was a rarity during which he was fully and gladly present. Any good feelings got thrust into the background as an all too familiar one washed over him.

He couldn't even tell if it was his voice or Cazador's ringing in his head. "You were weak. You put your guard down. You enjoyed yourself. You are a fool. You are a dirty, cheap body to be gripped and groped and thrown away. You are a temporary pleasure with no face and no voice."

If he had a mortal body, he surely would've vomited.

A too complicated clashing of reasonings overwhelmed him. "They used you, but of course they did. Why are you even surprised? You approached them for your own gain, why would you expect a transaction to turn into anything real? Just swallow your trivial feelings and move on." And yet on the other hand - he had felt it was becoming real. It never should've, he never planned for it, but it happened. He subconsciously gave it a chance and look where it got him. Feeling like a naïve fool.

He got dressed, doing it mechanically through memories of filth, bruises, a ringing in his ears and a painful and shameful throbbing between his legs. He walked back to camp, readying his charm on the way.

When he approached them in camp, it felt like a play. Like last night was an episode and they were now back on track.

"Hello, darling", he purred, "Was the walk here terribly difficult? I imagine after last night's... performance, your legs would be quite shaky."

"I'm... fine."

"Well... that's good to hear. We wouldn't want our precious leader experiencing any unwanted effects after sleeping with the nasty, suspicious vampire, now would we?"

Something felt so terribly wrong and regretful. They found no humor in his smirk, no charm in his expertly seductive voice. They just saw... hurt. Poorly disguised at that.

"Wait, Star, I feel like there's a misunderstanding here. Can we just-"

"Oh, so it's 'Star' now, is it? See that's funny, I thought nicknames and other such mushy things were reserved for couples, not late night trysts. But what would I know, after all I have bedded many a person but not one have I greeted in the morning, so don't take my word for anything."

It felt like everything was falling apart with no prior warning, like last night was a crucial moment and they missed out on some defining que.

"Astarion, can we please talk? Something's gone wrong here."

"Whatever do you mean, darling? Nothing's wrong. We had fun last night, lots of fun I might add, and now it is the next day, simple as that. There's nothing to talk about. Now, let's leave this dramatic business behind us and move on, shall we?"

"Astarion, I-"

"Darling, I think we've used our mouths more than enough last night, let's give them a break, yes?"

As he sauntered off, the sinking feeling rattled. In a matter of hours, it seems whatever they had built has managed to fall apart and put them back at the start.

Astarion had quite a talent for ignoring a person while giving them attention. It was the most ironic, painful thing they had witnessed in a long while. He responded, but they felt it would've hurt less if he had stayed quiet. He kept charming, and they yearned for every uncovered softness they had managed to receive from him.

Whenever they attempted to talk to him, either another companion needed them, or Astarion went on a hunt, or they needed to get moving. A few days passed when they got desperate.

"Astarion, we have to talk."

That was it, he thought. He was finally getting thrown away. He tried pretending everything was fine, but he knew that couldn't be the case. They had tasted the only valuable thing about him and they needed nothing else from him.

"Hello, my sweet." His voice almost shook. Gods, he can feel his throat getting tighter. "Do you need something?"

They were still struggling to understand what exactly happened between them, but all they knew at the moment was that Astarion seemed strangely nervous. Afraid, even.

"Easy, Star. I really just want to clear some things up."

"Well... did something happen?"

"Something did, I would just like to know what."

"Whatever could you mean, darling? Things have been perfectly fine."

"Star, please. There's been enough of this. We've been growing more and more distant after a night when we were closer than ever, it really doesn't make sense."

"Darling, if we were to get any closer than we were that night, we would become conjoined", he said with a strained chuckle.

"Okay...", they sighed, "I know that whatever we did some nights ago was a dance very familiar to you and so it likely meant nothing special to you, but it did to me. I'm sorry if I have managed to ruin things between us, but I just couldn't digest the thought of it meaning so little when it felt like so much."

"Oh no, no, no. Wait a gods damned minute, darling. I feel you might have mixed up our lines somehow. 'Likely meant nothing to me'? You're the one who was conveniently absent the following morning, or has the worm messed with my memory?"

He seemed shocked, a bit angry and against all his effort and hesitation, hopeful.

"I...", they huffed a sigh of realization with a small, self-deprecating smile. "It seems I misread your intentions. I'm sorry, Star, I really never meant to hurt you."

His relief was very apparent.

"It's alright, my sweet. I might've also, perhaps, let my dark thoughts get the better of me. It seems old habits truly do die hard. But just to be sure - that night... did mean something, to the both of us?"

"It certainly seems so."

"Well. That is good to know. I'm not sure where this leaves us though."

"Me neither. I've never really done things like this before."

"Reassuring news, truly. I was about to start feeling a bit... lacking, in the area."

"Then we can lack together."

"That doesn't sound so bad", he said with a chuckle and a softness in his eyes they had missed so much.

"Then let's raise an imaginary toast to figuring things out", they said with their hand raised as if holding a glass.

"You're positively ridiculous, my sweet. But yes", he said raising his own "glass", "and also to not leaving me to wake up alone on the dirt as if I had been robbed and knocked unconscious."

"That too. I really am sorry, Star."

"Oh, it's quite alright. Just don't do it again."

"Pinky promise?"

"Now you're overdoing it."

They chuckled as they finally felt the heaviness in the air between them dissipate.