#rape/non con cw

[konigsblog]

MORE STEPBROTHER KONIG . LIKE OMG UR WRITTING IS AMAZIBGGGG

(thank you, anon !! :'3)

more stepbrother-könig and his best friend, krueger. :(

cw: stepcest, non-con/rape, recording. mdni 18+

your older stepbrother könig isn't always around, he's usually on deployment due to being enlisted in the military, but whenever he's on leave, he's creeping around and desperate for your attention and touch, to rub his aching boner against something. it's disgusting and leaves you incredibly uncomfortable, attempting to squirm out of his hold whilst he humps your ass relentlessly, crying for him to let go. könig attempts to silence you by hushing you, trying to soothe his boner by fucking it against the curve of your ass.

you're his outlet – you're his step sister, you're supposed to want him to be happy, little lamb... can't you just do him one favour? :(

he doesn't have a girlfriend due to his lack of social interaction and constant, long deployments so he's left with heavy and tight balls, a sore and hung cock !! no one understands him like you do, liebling, and it makes him feel isolated and alone, his heart breaking when you push him away so cruelly. :(

he'll even encourage his best friend, krueger, to grind up against you in an attempt to seduce you because of your aversion towards your horny stepbrother, just so krueger can get into your pretty panties and fuck you, secretly recording it for könig to jerk off to.

[steviewashere]

Loving Who You Are, Not What You Offer

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Referenced Rape/Non-Con (Not Between Main Pairing), Panic Attack (Sort of) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Protective Eddie Munson, Patient Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Sexual Trauma, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Slight Comphet Steve Harrington, Dialogue Heavy

Okay, honestly, this one comes from a more personal place. So I'm gonna have to ask y'all to be kind about this one. I've recently come to terms that I'm somewhere on the asexual spectrum and I just needed to apply that somewhere, so. Also, writing from Eddie's point of view rather than Steve's helps me, so I don't wanna hear shit about it.

Read the content warning one more time before you continue and let me know if I missed anything <3

🩵—————🩵 There was an uncovered layer to Steve Harrington, that much Eddie has deduced.

It’s a subtle, blink and you wouldn’t notice, kind of thing. But even this uncovered layer had layers. And he’s not sure if anybody else has caught on. He was able to catalog several odd things about Steve that just…didn’t match his character. Not at all. Which has led, though it started casually and accidentally, to Eddie making a whole new doctrine.

The Odd Steve Behavior Doctrine. With a few noticeable bullet points:

-Don’t touch him without asking -Don’t ask him about his sex life -Don’t talk about sex around him, at all -He especially doesn’t like casual intimacy -Earning Steve’s trust is like climbing up a rocky mountain

He follows these rules he’s made for himself. Tries to keep himself casual and known in Steve’s presence. And hopes that it’s enough to get Steve to crack, even the slightest. Maybe he’ll say why these things bother him, Eddie initially thought.

Maybe I’ll just keep my mouth shut and let Steve come to me in his own time, he eventually noted. Because he doesn’t need to be in everybody’s business all the time, which is a typical thing for Eddie. He likes being nosy and involved with the lives of people around him. He likes to think of himself as the person his friends can come to, no matter the reason or the intensity of their need. And maybe part of it is selfish, too. He can admit that to himself. That he, in turn, wants to be everything Steve needs at the end of the day. Bearing the brunt of all that Steve has going wrong or right in his life.

Things come to Eddie little by little from Steve’s mouth. None that answer to any of the bullets in his doctrine, but things that are important, too. Like confessions, moments that Steve saw as flaws.

“I called Jonathan Byers a queer in 1983. That’s why he beat me up. I deserved it,” he told Eddie one day. Casually, complete nonchalance, as easy as discussing the weather. Steve had been cradling a mug of coffee at their local diner. Picked at the pancake platter he ordered all for himself. And, at Eddie’s coming out (“I’m gay, Steve,” Eddie admitted quietly mere moments before. He brought up love lives. Was poking around what was going on with Steve’s. And casually, he realizes, it just came up.), Steve took a sharp inhale. Confessed this bomb of a statement. Grimaced at the memory that must’ve played out behind his eyes. Then, murmured, “But thank you for trusting me with that, Eddie. I just need you to know that I was somebody you wouldn’t before. In case that…In case maybe you wanna take back that trust. Wouldn’t blame you, that’s all I’m saying.”

Eddie sat in that for a good several moments. As they slurped at their room temperature, rather mediocre mugs of Joe. “I still trust you,” he eventually said, “You don’t have to keep proving yourself to me, you know?” Steve merely shrugged. And that was confessional number one.

Following that, Steve mentioned being tortured by Russians. Which, Eddie thought that was reason for him not liking touch. It may be part of the reason, but there was something to Steve’s eyes that told him that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Eddie didn’t ask. Steve didn’t elaborate. Tortured by Russians, beat up by his peers, chewed up like a dog toy, the list in Eddie’s mind of All the Bad Things That Happened to Steve was growing longer and longer by the day. But Steve was telling him things, letting him in. It was a start.

So, Eddie had two catalogs all about Steve to keep up with in his mind. All the Bad Things and The Do’s and Don’ts of Steve Harrington.

Being his friend was an earned thing and it was a pleasant thing, but it also broke Eddie’s heart bit by bit. He’d never admit to this, but he had to realize that at some point. He wondered if Robin ever felt the same. Maybe even Nancy. But he wasn’t going to ask. Because who asks something like that? Eddie won’t be the first, but it won’t be the last somebody thinks that, he’s sure.

Even though Steve was breaking through his own mold, cracking his mask, shattering mirrors of who he was, none of it actually answered any of Eddie’s don’ts regarding him. None of it eased him. None of it lended itself in any sort of way. If anything, all of these other greater things only added to the incessant itch that couldn’t be scratched under Eddie’s skin.

Who are you really, Steve, Eddie asked himself all too much.

He doesn’t want to upset the poor guy.

But he’ll never know, he’s coming to realize. It’s just not in the cards.

———

It comes to a head, because of course it does. And he didn’t mean for it to, but it just happens.

They’re hanging out at Steve’s new-ish apartment. Lounging around on his, frankly, ugly floral second-hand couch. It’s musty and not all that soft on the cushions, lumpy and shifting. But they make do with it as they have a movie marathon. Steve is sprawled between the far right and middle cushion, Eddie is leaning against the left arm rest, legs crossed one over the other, head in his hand. Then, his stomach grumbles all too loudly in a room full of droning noise.

He leans into Steve’s space slightly. Reaches out a hand and places it on his thigh. Squeezes Steve’s leg and opens his mouth to ask if he’s hungry. But, for some reason, Steve tenses to the extremes underneath his touch. His hands grip harshly to the back of the couch and the throw pillow near his head. Legs going taut and straining against Eddie’s touch.

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly.

“Stop,” musters from Steve. It’s tiny. Cracking in half. Brings tears to his eyes immediately.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, though. “What?” He asks. “What am I doing?” There’s a thrum in his chest. Something unsettling and obtuse. It pulsates and shifts and bitters his throat the way acidic bile does.

With force Eddie’s only seen in the Upside Down, Steve latches onto Eddie’s wrist. Tight enough that Eddie has to bite back a yelp of pure and unadulterated pain. Nearly enough to break the bone that Steve’s thumb digs into. He shoves Eddie away with just his grip. Scrambles to the far corner of the couch, legs tucked in close to his chest, knees colliding with his chin. He wraps his arms around himself.

And then, the softest noise breaks through between them. It’s quiet, yet somehow louder than the tape playing. It works its way under Eddie’s skin. Into his stomach, through his throat, and into his brain. Steve’s gentle, manufactured cries. Stifled behind his lips. In real time, Eddie watches him shatter. The way his eyes gloss over, his cheeks going splotchy with the sounds, his shoulders shake.

“Woah, hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out again. He wants to ground him. Wants to comfort the way he knows how. How he soothes Wayne’s panic episodes. And how he calms Dustin down from lashing out. Or when Robin talks herself in circles. Wants to just…be there. “Hey, Steve, are you—“

“Don’t touch me,” Steve bites out, “I don’t have anything—You—I don’t want to.”

Immediately, Eddie drops his hand to the now unoccupied middle cushion. The fabric meeting his palm. Going cold. Warm where Steve had just been relaxed. And Eddie—he may be a dastardly fool most days, dumb as rock the others, three time senior—knows exactly what he did, now that he’s focused on every small movement he makes. He’s perceptive to the way Steve is leaning as far away as possible. How crumpled he makes his body. Eddie notices how much space has been created and where his hands lie.

I’m so stupid, he thinks, that’s like rule one. 

Don’t touch him without asking.

“Fuck,” Eddie softly curses. He pulls himself away. To his own corner of the sofa. And swallows the bit of panic that rises in him. His eyes drift away from Steve’s fearful face, to his own hands. Twitches them in his lap, against his knees. Wants to cut them off. Throw them into a blender. Feed them to the birds. Something. But he forces himself to look back up.

Steve trembles against the couch. In a way that is not the Steve Harrington that Eddie met when fighting other worldly creatures. That dismantles everything and anything he once knew.

“Shit. I—Steve, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “I’m sorry. I know that you don’t like that unless people ask. And I just—I wasn’t thinking, I promise. It was just—You know, I’m touchy with all my friends and I was just going to see if you wanted me to make some dinner or order some food. I was just trying to get your attention, y’know, and I didn’t mean anything by it. I promise, I swear. I swear on my mom, Steve. I would never—“ He takes a deep, gasping breath. Coughing on the inhale. His hands shake, now. And he doesn’t think he’s ever seen fear paint itself so clear and bright on a person’s face, but he’s looking into it. Steve’s pallor and yet still red cheeks. And his all consuming, though far away eyes. His built body, yet childlike hold.

A part of Eddie wants to cry, too. I’ve fucked up, he panics internally, I’ve fucked everything up and now he’s not going to be my friend and he was such a good friend, too. Why did I have to do that? I just wanted to make sure he was fed, too. That’s it. He’s such a good friend and now I’ve fucked it and I just—I—

“You wanted to make me food?” Steve quietly croaks.

Eddie, in an instant, nods. “Yes!” He exclaims in his own panic. “Yes, I swear, Steve. I wasn’t thinking when I touched your thigh. And I—What do you want to eat, Stevie? Say the word, I’ll find a way to make it or…something.”

His hands twitch in his lap once more. Thumbs catching on the ripped holes of his jeans. The threads soft and wearing away under his skin. The scratchy, dry bit of skin that peers through. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t think he breathes. Just makes eye contact with Steve. Which, surely, is overbearing and unnecessary and…I’m probably freaking him out more, calm down. He takes a deep breath, blows it away from him, and lowers his shoulders from where he didn’t know they were hiking.

“It was nothing more than to check-in. I promise,” he reiterates, murmuring.

Steve, finally, draws away from himself. With his own breath. He unravels his legs, stretching them out to their full length onto the middle cushion. Arms going limp at his sides. Hands resting against his thighs. His eyes dart—left and right and left and right—between Eddie’s. Nods once. “Okay,” he meekly musters. “Okay, Eds. Can…We can order pizza. There should be a menu on the kitchen counter. I’ll—“

Eddie stands from his own cushion before Steve gets the chance to. “Nope, don’t worry about it. Just try and relax, yeah? I’ll go put in an order, pay for it. You…Pepperoni pizza?” Steve just nods, tentative and surprised. “Cool,” Eddie states, “I’ll be right back.”

The phone call goes by quick and he easily sets the money out for when the driver gets there. But he’s not entirely sure his presence is going to be a warm welcome in the living room again. He gets a glass of water anyway because, surely, Steve will tell him to go if he isn’t wanted.

Steve’s in the same position as when Eddie left. Though, his gaze isn’t entirely there. Somewhere beyond Eddie’s shoulder. But there’s a gleam, a little shine that tells him that Steve isn’t gone from himself, not yet at least. He sits back down in his own cushion. Glass on the coffee table. And turns, keeping himself tight to his own body.

“Hey, Steve?” He calls out, watching as Steve blinks sluggishly back into his body. “I—uh—I got you some water, if you want it. Drinking water usually helps me feel better after…After a down moment, y’know?”

Next to him, Steve hums. He sighs. “Can I trust you with something?” He asks, forgoing the water entirely.

Eddie nods in haste. “Of course, Steve. If you have something you have to tell me, I can keep things to myself,” he states. Which is one hundred percent true. He may be a loud guy, screaming and yelling when need be. May be somebody that fills a room with noise, if only so he doesn’t succumb to the silence. But he knows how to keep a secret. It’s sort of a survival tactic, is what he’d say if somebody asked him about it. He’s kept secrets about his parents, things behind lock and key in his ribcage. Granted, he may forget, but he won’t say a damn thing. And he surely won’t spill Steve’s beans, especially with the way he looks to him in open earnest.

“Okay,” Steve responds. His legs fall away from the couch and he rights himself into being completely upright. Ramrod straight. On the far right cushion. Mirroring Eddie’s tight pose. Feet flat to the floor. His eyes trace something on the coffee table, cracks probably, but Eddie can’t exactly tell. “Okay. I…You’re going to be the second person I’ve ever told this to, alright? And I—I figured that it would come out sooner or later, but you’re gonna need an explanation for whatever the fuck just happened. And I don’t know how else to talk about it without just going all-in. So…I just need you to listen. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you have the floor, Stevie. My mouth is shut.”

Steve nods slow, a ghost of a smile on his face. Breathes in through his nose, it traps in his chest and comes out as one gentle gust. He swallows heavily, words seemingly rising in his throat. And that smile falls away just as it sprung.

“In middle school, before I was popular and whatever, I had a group of friends that I ran with. We were all nerds, I won’t deny that. And—And I would involve myself with some of their interests, if only because I wanted to fit in,” Steve explains first. His eyes roam again. Not picking a spot, but Eddie won’t fault him for it. He continues, voice fracturing, “One of the guys I was closer to, we’ll call him R, he was interested in this club. It was kind of like a tech club? Focused on radios and channels and math and…Things that I was actually kind of good with, but needed a better understanding on. So, I figured, I’d sign up for this club. Go with my…friend.”

Before he goes on to say more, he leans over for the glass of water on the table. Holds it gently between his hands. Doesn’t take any sips. The condensation droplets roll down his fingers. Cold most likely keeping him grounded to the room.

Eddie can already tell he’s not going to like wherever this part of Steve’s past leads him. How Steve has to take breaks, it upsets Eddie greatly. He’s not sure he’s entirely prepared for whatever confession comes from Steve this time, but he’ll digest it. Get through this with the guy and figure out all he needs to.

Another steadying breath. And Steve’s voice is like gravel, but he keeps talking.

“It was a weekly thing. And we’d go in. Be taught about gadgets and whats-its and whatnot. R was there, though. He was always there. We’d talk, laugh, shoot the shit. Normal friend bullshit.

“One day, though. One day, something was…different. He looked at me. There was a sense of hunger. Want. A drive to him that I’d never seen before. He’d lean more into my space, drop his voice lower, whisper right into my ear.” Steve blinks in rapid succession. His breath keeps stuttering. And something in Eddie’s stomach sours. He goes, though. Pushing through. “I told him to stop. To knock it off. Kept telling him that I was trying to learn. That I wanted to focus. And he just…He wouldn’t,” he explains.

Eddie spikes with great unease and anger. Never at Steve. But whoever this so called ‘friend’ is, Eddie wants to maybe kill him. He keeps quiet, though. Steve wanted to share and he needs this out. And Eddie can listen. He can, even if it makes him want to cry, too.

“I thought that’s all it would be,” Steve speaks quietly, “Just him talking to me in this new tone. With this new level to his voice. But…I’m kind of stupid, I guess, so of course that’s not all he’d do. The next week at our club meeting, he got closer than before. He began to…” Steve stops and swallows. A single, silent tear crawls down his face. It doesn’t even phase him, the way crying usually does. It’s just background at this point. “…He began to—to touch me in ways I’d never been. And I—I told him to stop, I remember doing that. I remember putting distance between us. And saying no and saying stop and shoving his hands off me. But he just—“ A broken little sob. “—He was supposed to be my friend,” he states, small as a child.

The sobs rack Steve in such a way that his whole body is jolting with it. Nearly toppling off the couch. He chugs the water between cries, but doesn’t move from his spot. Tight and closed off within his own body.

“I wanted him to just be my friend,” Steve continues a moment later, nasally and choked. “But he didn’t want that. He kept overpowering every single decision I made. His breath on my earlobe. And his hands on my thigh, on my…He fucking touched my crotch. Tried to coerce me into having sex,” he spits. “That guy…He made me feel fucking disgusting. About my own body. About things I loved. About sex,” Steve growls, “Made me sort of dislike all those things, too.”

Eddie, for how loud he can be, is completely silent for once. Unable to form words. Not sure how to comfort. And if he could comfort, isn’t sure if that’s something he can do the way he wants to. He can’t touch. Can’t do what he’d normally do. And his body aches to take care of Steve or to simply hold him. To be…well, to be a friend. But that’s not something Steve can exactly trust.

He feels sick to his stomach.

The last bit of water is sipped at slowly, as Steve comes down. Then, he turns to face Eddie. Making direct and purposeful eye contact. “It’s not your fault, that I reacted like I did,” he states lowly. “And it’s not your fault that I close up when you want to talk about sex. Or you wanna talk about all that intimate shit. It’s something with me. Like something’s broken. It’s like a deep crack in me, Eddie.

“And I just wanted to clear up all that. Explain what I can, I guess.” He snakes out a tentative hand. It’s shaking and hesitant, but it still lands softly on the back of Eddie’s right. Squeezes. “But thank you for taking notice. And being concerned. And for apologizing. I feel safe with you, Eddie. I trust you a lot. Which is like—That’s probably highest honors you could earn with me.” And he chuckles slightly. It’s not a humorous thing, but it’s not exactly humorless either.

Eddie lets himself soak in this, though. Smiling warmly back at Steve. Because he needs it. They both need it. He murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me with that, Steve. That wasn’t easy and I’m proud of you for speaking up about it. I’m glad to be somebody you can trust.”

With another exhale, Steve relaxes back into the couch. His hand doesn’t move from Eddie’s. “I also want to say that you’re allowed to talk about your relationships with dudes,” he states quietly. “Seriously, I don’t mind. But just…Just check in with me? Before you do?”

“Of course,” he agrees instantly. “I’ll keep that in my noggin, promise, Stevie.”

Ghost of a smile on Steve’s face again. “Thanks,” he whispers.

A lull floats in the conversation. Steve removes his hand, watching as his fingers twitch, and there’s a little uptick to the corners of his mouth. Something pleased and almost…reverent at the way he looks at his hand.

Before Eddie can get up to change out the movie, he heaves a little sigh. And says, “Y’know, if you ever need any sort of physical comfort, need to talk about this, or you just need somebody to tell you that you’re okay, you can lean on me. Don’t even need to ask, really. I’m all arms.”

“I’ll think about it, Eds. This has been enough for me."

——— Steve comes out to him at the same diner Eddie did only a few years later.

It’s 1990, Eddie’s twenty-four and Steve’s freshly twenty-three. He has a certain spark to him. A sparkle to his smile and a pep in his step. And Eddie’s happy to see him happy.

Happy to eventually call their relationship romantic. Happy to share spots on the couch, curled around each other. Happy to kiss him slow and sweet or not at all, just able to gaze over coffee mugs and across the room and when Steve thinks he can’t be seen.

Eddie’s just happy to be allowed this love that fills his chest and in the colder, vacant spots of their lives.

But he realizes he still hasn’t heard everything about Steve. He gives it time, though. Because the second most important thing to Steve—first just being there for him—is patience.

The next of their chats happens when things get heated on the couch.

Soft kisses turn hungry, carnivorous. Hands wander over heated skin. Steve’s fingers against the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. But his hands shake. And Eddie places his own hands off to the sides of the couch, pulling himself away before things can get any farther than they already are.

“Hey,” he softly speaks, “Steve, we don’t—I’m okay with just kissing right now. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Steve stops next to him. Tensing up only slightly. “Are you—You’re sure about that?” His voice is so tiny, so unlike him. And though Eddie’s heard this tone before, it still breaks him.

He says easily, “I don’t want you to be scared of our first time, baby. It’s okay if we need to take things slow.”

He watches as Steve heavily swallows. “And if I asked if we never had sex?”

Eddie eyes him for a moment. Not wearily. With something like subtle pride. “Is that what you want?” He asks in turn. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

Subtly, Steve nods. “I—“ He sighs sadly. “I’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about it. With girls, I never even liked it. I just did it because it…There was something to say about a guy who could have sex with anybody he wants. But I also…I don’t know.” He shrugs as if trying to dismiss it, but Eddie doesn’t like that.

He sets a hesitant, soft hand on Steve’s shoulder. Squeezes when he doesn’t move away. “If you never want to have sex again, I’d be okay with that. I’d be more than okay with that,” he states assuringly. “You being happy and comfortable is what matters most to me. Not sex. I don’t give a shit about sex, not when I get to see you every day, smile on your face, and your eyes shiny and beautiful.”

Steve gives another small sigh, but the smile he has doesn’t waver. “Okay. I—Eddie, I don’t think I want to have sex,” he admits quietly. It shakes from his throat, but it’s still confident the way it lands between them. “It just doesn’t feel good to me. And I—I don’t want to force myself to do it. And it wouldn’t be fair to you, either.”

Another affirmative squeeze to Steve’s shoulder. “Alright, baby. Then we don’t have sex,” he agrees softly. “And if you ever change your mind—not that I’m forcing you to—then I’m okay with what you want.” He scoots himself closer so that their bodies are one single line, warm against each other. Reiterating, “Your happiness and comfort matter the most to me.”

With both of his hands, Steve wraps Eddie’s free one. Traces the veins on the back of his hand. Toys with his fingers. “We can still kiss, though,” he states quietly. “Maybe I want a kiss.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. So, he closes the gap. A wet peck to Eddie’s lips. Soft and venturing. One that last only a few seconds. He draws back with the softest smile adorned on his features. Murmurs, “Thank you for hearing me out on this. And for understanding. And for accepting this.”

“I love you, Steve. Just for you. Not the sex or touch. We could never do anything except sit next to each other and talk, and I’d still love you,” Eddie swears.

Steve sniffs something wet. Shoves himself a little closer, cuddling into Eddie’s chest. To which Eddie wraps his arms around his back in response. And he sighs, but it’s a sound of long awaited relief. “I love you, too, Eddie. God, I love you.”

The conversations are tough and they are stomach turning, but after it all, Eddie gets to have Steve. How he is. How he wants to be. And that’s all Eddie could hope for.

He kisses the top of Steve’s head and relaxes back into the couch. “I’m proud of you, Steve,” he murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for being patient. Being here.”

Eddie squeezes them together even tighter. Warm in his chest at the content noise that draws itself from Steve. This could be all that they do forever and Eddie would never ask for more.

🩵—————🩵

[what-happens-to-the-heart]

Check out Today's Cohen Fest Entry! 😈

A deliciously dark and smutty look at a universe where a few choices were made differently.

[danpuff-ao3]

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Post-HP books AU, in which Voldemort won. The Malfoys, however, remain in great disfavour, and Draco’s position as a slave/toy/sex object is punishment for his family’s sins.

Longest Night

by Indigo_Scarf. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 1,121. Mother/son. Underage. Hurt/comfort.

In the bleakest winter of their lives, Narcissa and Draco find comfort in each other. Mind the tags.

Abraxas Malfoy's Guide to Grooming an Heir

by just_a_whorecrux. Abraxas/Scorpius. Past Abraxas/Draco and Abraxas/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 1,608. Written for Cest Fest 2023. Great-grandfather/great-grandson. Past grandfather/grandson & father/son. Underage. Extreme dub-con. Grooming. Virginity loss. Painful sex. Other kinks and warnings.

Every Malfoy heir is born to be bred, and Scorpius is no exception.

Ambrosia

by just_a_whorecrux. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 1,589. Father/son. Non-con. Extreme underage. Pedophilia. Past Abraxas/Lucius. Rough sex. Blood and Injury. Bittersweet ending.

Lucius indulges in his nightly feast of ambrosia.

Desperation

by Max_Write. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 1,475. Father/son.

In the middle of the night, Draco has a sudden need to be near his father. Hey, he’s only returning the favour.

Butterfly Boy

orphaned. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 3,036. Father/son. Extreme underage.

Draco loses one of Lucius' rings which he's mercifully been given permission to play with.

Mummy's Milk

orphaned. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 2,073. Mother/son. Breastfeeding. Masturbation. Extreme underage.

Narcissa enjoys the time together with her cute, young son. Especially when it's time to breastfeed.

Seducing Your Father - A boy's guide to the art of seduction by Draco Malfoy

orphaned. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 2,701. Father/son. Humor.

Ever wanted to seduce your father? Draco Malfoy's got the know-how!

Guiltier Than Him They Try

by paruaque. Draco/Lucius. Lucius/Percy. Rated: E. Words: 3,724. Father/son. Dub-con. Infidelity. Sexual coercion. Polujuice Potion.

When the cat's away, vice will play.

Confessions at Sunset

by Pinkelephant42. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 713.

Each night Lucius seduces Draco, and each day, Lucius prays at Narcissa’s grave for forgiveness.

Passage to Eden

by Rushlight. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 7,417. Father/son. First time.

The seduction of Draco Malfoy. Lucius introduces Draco to some chemical relaxation, and Draco learns that paradise is often in the eye of the beholder.

Purity of the Blood

by TheSlytherinGurl. Draco/Lucius. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 2,929. Father/son. Mother/son. Non-con. Underage. Breeding. Implied mpreg. Non-consensual body modification. Non-consensual drug use. Extreme dub-con. Implied/referenced underage prostitution.

Narcissa walked in on Lucius sexually assaulting Draco. They begin to question whether the punishment they have dreamed up for their son can be used to get back into the Dark Lord's good graces.  Takes place just after the events of Order of the Phoenix.

Demons Unleashed

by snarkyscorp. Draco/Scorpius. Minor Draco/Albus Severus and Scorpius/Albus Severus. Rated: E. Words: 4,894. Minor character death. Rough sex.

All Draco can think is how Potter got to Scorpius first, how Scorpius called for him, how the firm slap of Potter's palm connected with the taut flesh of his son's arse…

A Different Kind of Heir Training

by spicysin. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 2,084. Father/son. Non-con. Extreme underage. Somnophilia. Grooming. Breeding. Drugged sex.

Like all Malfoy heir’s before him, Draco is about to begin his training. Although, this is a different kind of training than estate management and etiquette. This is his sexual training. And his tutor? His father, Lucius Malfoy.

The Black Family Way

by spicysin. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 3,489. Mother/son. Underage. Mommy kink (if you squint.)

His Mother was nothing short of a goddess and he wished to bend at the knee and worship every inch of her flesh. OR With the war ramping up and his house invaded by the Dark Lord, Draco is faced with the task of being the man of the house while his father is in Azkaban. But his mother is suffering in her own home and as a Black, the well-being of his family comes first. However, this wasn’t exactly what he had planned when he decided to cheer her up, but he also wasn’t going to pass up the chance to love his mother like a TRUE Black.

It wouldn't have to be this way (in a perfect world)

by spicysin. Draco/Lucius. Draco/Harry. Rated: E. Words: 5,327. Parent/child. Non-con. Daddy kink. Size kink. Mpreg. Imperiused sex. Written for HP Cest Fest 2023. “We’ve decided to try for a baby!” Lucius felt his thoughts grind to an abrupt halt at his son’s words, even as Narcissa began giving suggestions on how to handle things like morning sickness and Draco admitted his worries about carrying. His every movement ceased, cutlery still clutched in unfeeling hands as he tried to comprehend what he had just been told. His son, his pride and joy, was going to sully his heritage by carrying Potter’s spawn? No. There will never be a mixed blood Malfoy if it’s the last thing he does.

Innocence Lost

by torino10154. Draco/Scorpius. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 800. Father/son. Dub-con.

Thanks to J for the once (or twice) over.

Into Temptation

by torino10154. Draco/Scorpius. Past Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 1,270. Father/son. Underage.

A father knows what's best for his son. Especially Draco's father.

Pride, Restored

by torino10154. Draco/Lucius/Scorpius. Rated: E. Words: 702. Grandfather/father/son. Non-con/dub-con. Humiliation. Bondage. Sex toys.

[No summary given, but can I just say I need more of this threesome in my life???]

Beautiful Boy

by worshipped. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 765. Mother/son. Consent issues.

“You look so like your father,” Narcissa says.

[wri0thesley]

“Non-con” that’s rape. Non consensual sex is rape

hello anon! i have talked about this in the past, although i can't find the post i made, so i will say it again as i have in the past;

i also tag things with 'dub-con', 'dubious consent' - which, again, is something that does not exist in real life. dubious consent (whether that be through drugging, blackmail, etc) is also rape. 'non-con' does not exist in real life, because indeed lack of consent does make it rape. again - in real life.

but this is not real life. i run a blog for fetish content, dark content, and content occasionally otherwise intended for sexual gratification. i use 'non-con' because that is an accepted term in the community; i prefer to use non-con, actually, because some people do indeed use tumblr for rape recovery and other such support, and i definitely do not want those people to stumble across my writing (in my case, partly a coping mechanism, although i do not think that people need to have experienced such things to write about dark content and i in fact am greatly frustrated by the idea that i have to disclose my trauma in order to 'excuse' or whatever what i write!). i have been very open in the past that the content i write is solely fantasy based (and indeed fantasies like this are very common!), and about how these are never things to want in real life, and how concepts like dub-con and non-con do not exist in real life.

i am very clear about writing these things on my profile, i tag everything as appropriately and fully as i can, and i encourage people who do not want to see content like this to curate their own internet experience and to block me.

i will not answer any other questions about this. i am responding to this one only because i couldn't find my first post about the term non-con. if you do not want to see this content i write, i highly encourage you to unfollow and block me, or at least to blacklist the terms 'non-con' 'non con' 'dub-con' and 'dub con'. tumblr's filtering system is a helpful tool!

[romana-after-dark]

I like the wrong way but I don’t understand why you had to mention her wanting a abortion it seemed a little much

Damn so what I’m hearing is you are okay with

Multiple accounts of violent rape, branding, depictions of skinning a man alive, mentions of incest and sex trafficking, kidnapping, shooting left snd right, violent physical abuse of a pregnant women and death of an innocent 20 year old mother

But a reader asking for an abortion because she doesn’t want to have a baby with the man who beat and raped her, a request that is denied and never actually happens

THAT is too much?

Let me make this perfectly clear

Joel’s forced pregnancy, cumming inside her minutes after having a gun to her head and forcing her to carry a pregnancy because he had a psychotic break and thinks he can replace Sarah should be the horrifying part to you

NOT the woman who didn’t want her abusers baby in an age of limited medical where there’s a good chance she’ll die during pregnancy, during or shortly after giving birth, or will watch her child die because she lives with a violent raider who has shown he has no respect for human life especially not hers.

Joel is the bad guy, not little one

[pigeonwhumps]

Transport

Sanctuary masterlist

Finding Safety masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @emcscared-whumps @poc-whump

785 is transported back to the WRU centre, and has an unpleasant experience along the way.

1.7k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, dehumanisation, collar, restrained, (short) explicit non-con, mentioned past non-con, lady whump, rough handling, mentioned kidnapping, conditioning, multiple whumpees

The conditioned phrases 785 repeats to herself were created variously by @maniacal-ramblings and @ashintheairlikesnow (and thanks to Ash for compiling the list I found them on here). Also, while I'm crediting, the bit about how to punch properly is from @wolfeyedwitch 's post – cheers for that information, which inspired both a large part of the next chapter and Cass' creation in the first place (I'm not sure whether me creating yet another OC should be something to thank you for actually but hey. I like him).

The doorbell rings and 785 listens to the murmur of voices, too low to make out. Then, with a lurch, she feels herself moving. Her box is lifted and carried outside, jostled all the while, before she feels herself being shoved onto something. There's a thud of wood on wood and she hears a loud whimper from below her, and she knows, she knows, that she's been packed on top of another Pet. Sideways. Her cheek pressed against what's now the floor of the crate.

The metal doors of the delivery van slam shut and a few seconds later there's the rumble of an engine as the vehicle starts moving. 785 bumps up and down, hitting the wood with small thuds that disorient her but won't do much actual damage (she doesn't think so anyway). She can hear crying from one of the boxes, and coughing from another.

How many Pets are in here?

She hopes the coughing one doesn't make her ill, because if she gets ill again she won't be able to work, and then she'll be punished, and– and her ribs still ache sometimes, from the last time it happened.

It can't happen again. Please, please, don't make her ill.

The van comes to a sudden halt and she jolts forward, hitting her head on the box. She yelps, which soon turns into a silent scream as her collar activates.

The pain causes her to white out for... she's not sure how long, but when she comes back to herself they're moving again. With each corner they turn she jerks around in her box, and with each stop the van makes she becomes a little more bruised, a little more battered. Most of the stops are pick-ups, although a few boxes are taken out. She wonders if the Pets in the drop-offs are better secured inside their boxes – she wasn't, not really, but then, customers wouldn't put up with damaged goods. They'd complain.

She's not sure how she knows about product satisfaction with such certainty. Her head splits open as she tries to think about it and she gasps.

Maybe... maybe she should stop thinking. She's just a stupid Pet, after all, she doesn't need to think. She shouldn't think. That's something only people should be doing.

It's getting hot in here. It's been warm these past few days, and now she's stuck in a small wooden box surrounded by other boxes and metal. It's no wonder.

The van hits some sort of bump and she lurches, hitting the roof of the crate hard. Someone screams.

"Keep it down back there!" yells a voice from up front. 785 thinks it might be the driver.

"We would," comes a gruff, thickly-accented voice from one of the other boxes, "if you'd drive slower so we're not falling everywhere all the time."

The van stops and the back door slams open. "Who the fuck said that?"

"Me."

785 hears footsteps on the floor of the van and then a boot hitting wood. "Shut the fuck up, then. Oh, I see your owner taped your paperwork to the side of your box. Says here that you were a guard Pet, being sent back for refurbishment, due to your excessive insolence and emerging beliefs about being a person."

"That's bullshit! I've never even seen the inside of a WRU centre! This... scumbag kidnapped me and when I wouldn't be his perfect fucking pet he left me in a box on the roadside! I'm not one of your fucking slaves!"

"You know what? I really don't care where you're from. If you think WRU get all their Pets legally I've got a damn bridge to sell you. You're ours now."

There's a growl, and 785 shakes her head. You signed up for this. All pets are of legal consenting age and made a choice to pursue a change of circumstances including no longer retaining legal ownership of themselves. All merchandise is acquired through full legal channels. She repeats this over and over in her head. She knows that to be true, so the delivery driver must be lying. Mustn't he?

The guard kicks the strange Pet's box again. "And guard Pets are known for getting lots of injuries, so if I were to punish you for disturbing me, no-one would know the difference. So I advise you to shut the fuck up and resign yourself to a life of Pethood, because you're not getting anything else." The Pet's silent. "Right. God. Now that's settled, I gotta burn off some steam. Oi, Dave, there anyone around?"

"There never is here, you know that," says another man from up front. "That's why we always stop here for a break."

"Get back here then. And bring my phone."

The cab door slams. "Man, you are not going to film this."

"Why not? There's no harm."

"No harm– you know what'll happen to us if anyone finds out that you're fiddling with the merchandise! That's why we don't leave any evidence! No filming!"

"Oh come on. It's just for me." There's a pause. "At least help me get the box out and open."

A heavy sigh. "Fine, fine. Who you going for?"

"785. Eleanor's Pet. She looks so good in the videos."

785 tenses. That's her. Her box is shifted and lifted off the van, and set down heavily on the ground, turning her over and shaking her to her bones. She hears the nails being pulled out and the lid removed. Someone lifts her out and sets her down on gravel that pokes into her legs.

"Oh, she's even more beautiful in real life," says the unnamed man. "With the red silk and the bark collar."

"Mm. I wonder why she wasn't made a Romantic?"

"Who knows. Come on, man, don't get me to film. You know what'll happen if we're caught."

"We won't be. Come onnn." There's a silence, and then another sigh and a beep, and a crow. "Eyyy! Atta boy!"

"You better not get us caught, or I'll kill you."

"Yeah, yeah. 785, open your mouth." 785 obeys, unable to do anything else, and she hears the sound of a zipper. "Wider than that. Ah, that's better."

Something slides into her mouth. It's warm and wrinkly and it tastes disgusting, and she nearly chokes as it hits the back of her throat. She knows what to do though, she's been ordered to do it before even though it wasn't her owners (even though her owners had been angry at the order, and angry with her for letting it happen), and she sucks his dick.

"Oh. Oh, that's so good. Mmm."

785 keeps going until there's a jerk and he comes in her throat. She splutters and coughs, trying to swallow or spit it out or something to stop herself choking. It tastes bitter and salty and horrible, and she can feel the tears dripping out from under the blindfold even before Dave points them out. She wasn't made for this, it's not her designation. She's not prepared for it.

"You want a go with her, Dave? She's very good."

"I prefer my sexual partners to be consensual, thanks."

"And yet you were happy to film me."

"Look, let's just– get her back in the box."

"Sure, sure. Your loss." 785 feels herself being lifted and put back in her box, the top nailed down. Her stomach lurches, in free fall, as her box is thrown back on, and the Pet below her screams as she lands upside down with a thud, slamming into the wood hard, breath punched from her as she sees stars. She curls up as tightly as possible as they start to move again. Her stomach churns but she presses her lips together tightly. She won't be sick. She won't sit in a pile of her own vomit for the rest of the journey.

Her jaw aches and her knees are bruised and she's so tired, she just wants 065 or Hugo or her bear (especially 065), and she starts to drift. She can't help but listen to the low, accented voice of that strange Pet when he starts speaking again.

"I'm sorry, 785. I know you probably won't answer, I overheard about the bark collar, but I'm still sorry. I didn't realise I'd get you hurt by speaking up."

He didn't? But every Pet knows that, how can he not? Maybe he really isn't from the WRU.

Swallowing her fear, 785 decides to speak. She needs a distraction, to stop her mind going over and over and over the events of a few minutes ago.

"Hello," she whispers, bracing herself against the shocks. It's not too bad if she whispers. "I'm 785. It's– it's okay, you didn't mean to. It's my– my job."

"Hmm. Well, I'm Cass. Nice to meet you."

"And– and you."

"When they let us out, I'm going to escape. You should come. I do not care if it's hard, I will not be a Pet. I hope you come. All of you. You do not have to stay enslaved." There's a whimper below 785, and she shakes her head. She's not enslaved, she chose this. "If you want to punch, wrap your thumb around the outside of your fist and squeeze it. Aim with your first two knuckles and keep your wrist straight. Start with your knuckles down, and only twist them up towards the end of extending your arm."

785 tries not to listen, she can't fight the handlers, only people can do that. Only people can decide if she's allowed to fight, and she really, really isn't. Not as a combination Platonic/Domestic. She's never been allowed to before.

She can't fight. She's a Pet, she chose to be one, she'll be one for life. She signed up for this. Even if... even if that means she'll be refurbished, forget 065. That's fine. She signed up for it, nothing is her choice anymore, she has to obey. It'll all be good if she obeys. If she fights, it might not be. She's not going to fight. She doesn't have permission or orders to do so.

Unconsciously, her hands curl into fists behind her back, thumbs squeezed around the outsides.

[yuzu-adagio]

based on your likes: non-con kink!

alright let's back up a little there tumblr

[konigsblog]

I feel like a gooner stepdad König or Price is severely underrated and I’ve been frothing thinking abt it, if you have any ideas on it 👀

tw: stepcest, intoxication, non-con, "gooning", rape, age gap (20s-40s) stepdad!price x f!reader

your mother was too lovesick to care about his unusual addiction. he made it known, it was as if he wanted you to hear his loud sounds of pleasure, perhaps a sick and depraved desire or fantasy of his. the countless times he'd purposely left the office door unlocked, staring into your eyes while fisting his sticky cock, grunting lowly and quietly.

your stepfather, john, was always deranged and disgusting. your mother encouraged you to leave him be, that men have needs that need to be fulfilled. she encouraged to stay away from him when he was... releasing himself, but by the time your mother was away in a business trip, your stepfather was becoming more touchy and perverse.

the scratching against your neck, his thick beard as he sat you on his burly lap. he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you down while he jerked off, his dick practically rubbing against your cunt. god, he came so hard, while drunk you were forced to watch rough pornography, whimpering from discomfort.

[uselesscantrip]

im trying to read the drizzt do'urden books and getting through homeland has been such a fucking trip. it started of kinda meh start and then all the sudden drizzt gets doused with horny gas and gets horny for the first time to please the drow spider goddess?? and then his naked sister tries to make him sleep with a matron to please the drow spider goddess?? and then a demon rapes a female student in a giant drow orgy to become a priestess and please the drow spider goddess?? what the fuck is happening

[merlinbingo]

Dreams Upon the Dunes by s0mmerspr0ssen Ship: Merlin/Arthur/Gwen, Merlin/Arthur, Arthur/Gwen Main Characters: Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Rape/non-con Major tags: Apocalypse AU, Modern AU, Morally Grey Arthur, Awesome Gwen, Abused Merlin Summary: On the day Arthur was born, it rained. It would be the last time.

[sokoviaaccordsarticle16]

New HTP fic just dropped for my fellow trash connoisseurs but ESPECIALLY for @astralhux !! Thank you for all the prompts and ideas - I had such a fun time playing around with them and writing this!!

until the blood runs clear

Bucky doesn’t want it gentle. He knows what he deserves.

HYDRA is looking forward to taking him up on that.

[constantron]

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Info below the cut.

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma Additional Tags: Abduction, Human Experimentation, Immobility, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Edward gets free from being tested on, Jon is awake but unable to move, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Scriddler, Hand Jobs, Rough Sex, Blood, bad hygiene, Edward might be trans but I again refused to commit either way Summary:

Edward isn't the easiest lab rat, if for no other reason that he's not always where you left him. This time he flips the script on his captor.

[pigeonwhumps]

Home for Christmas: Going Home

Sanctuary masterlist

AMOW day 2: home for Christmas

Yeah this isn't comfort at all lol.

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @amonthofwhump

Finn takes 643 home for Christmas.

Set towards the end of her retraining as a Romantic.

869 words

CWs: BBU, pet whump, lady whump, dehumanisation, conditioning, nudity, noncon, ableism (very brief), creepy whumper, intimate whumper

Finn whistles as he opens the door to 643's room. He has a whole schedule he needs to follow to test her skills in the outside world, and he's very much looking forward to it.

643 slips onto her knees when she sees him enter, looking up at him from under her lashes. He strokes her hair and then puts his fingers to her mouth. 643 parts her lips, sucking delicately on his fingers for a minute before he pulls them away.

"Good girl. You're good at this, I'm sure your owner will be very happy with you."

"Thank you, sir."

"It's time to test your skills in the real world, so you're coming home with me for the holidays. And I have some proper clothes for you. Here, put these on."

He sets the clothes he's brought down beside her, not looking away as she changes into the lacy, dark red lingerie set he bought for her. She looks delicious in them and although he doesn't see her body for nearly long enough before she pulls the long, faux-fur coat over herself, that's alright. He'll have plenty of time later.

He's pleased to see that she doesn't try to hide her body from him anymore. That's good. It's nice to have her a bit shy, goes with the stutter, but she can't pull away too much.

"Good girl. Now put this on too." 643 shrugs on the orange high-vis vest with 'Pet in Training' written in black on the back. It doesn't look too good on her, but he doesn't mind. He'll take it off when they get home. And then she'll be all his for Christmas. He steps up to her and pushes her neck down, caressing her skin as he attaches her leash. She leans into his touch delightfully.

"Come on. Let's go."

643 stands smoothly and follows Finn out of the room, hands behind her back. Finn signs her out and sits her down in the passenger seat. She keeps her eyes out front, hands in her lap.

"You haven't seen the outside world much before, have you, 643?"

"No– no, sir."

"Hmm. You know, I can't decide if your owner would be better off keeping you in the bedroom or showing your beauty off in public. At least in the bedroom you couldn't make an escape attempt."

643 stiffens. "Please, sir, I– I wouldn't leave, that was– that was months ago, I wasn't trained properly, I wouldn't want to– to leave now, sir."

"Hush, it's okay, I know." He strokes the back of her neck with a smile and she leans into it, turning slightly to nuzzle into his hand. Oh, she's perfect. "I know. We're nearly there now."

_

When they reach 643's handler's house, 643 waits for his instructions before following him out of the car, head bowed. She's not supposed to be looking at the house without permission, and she won't.

Her heart's still hammering from the talk about escape attempts. Does her handler still think she'll try to leave? She wouldn't. She wants to be owned, she knows that now, she needs to be. She wants to be useful, to be used, it's what she was made for. Why would she leave? She wouldn't survive on her own anyway.

She follows her handler into the house, standing perfectly still as he removes her bright vest and fur coat, caressing her arm as he does so. It's cooler without it, but that's okay. She doesn't like the feel of the coat, and as a Romantic, she won't be wearing much for her owner anyway. Her handler says they'll want to show her off. He unclips her leash, too.

"This way. I need to relax for a bit before we go out later, and I have just the idea." He leads the way into the living room and sits down on the sofa, and she kneels at his feet, looking up at him attentively. She flutters her eyelashes slightly – he always likes that.

"I see you want my attention, and you'll have it, 643. But first, what do you think of the Christmas decorations?"

643 looks around. There's a fake tree in the corner decorated with lights and tinsel in the corner, and more tinsel strung up around the room. A paper star hangs from the ceiling.

The sight of the decorations brings tears to her eyes, and her head starts to hurt, although she has no idea why.

"They're very– very nice, sir."

"Hmm. We'll need to improve your compliment skills before you're sold, I think. And you need to hide those tears better. But that's okay, we have time. Take off your clothes and come up here, position 35."

643 strips and climbs onto the sofa, lying on her front and stretching her legs out, folded beneath her, her most valuable parts wide open and vulnerable. She feels a finger tease at her and as it touches a sensitive spot she lets out a soft moan.

"So reactive. Tell you what, if you behave well at the restaurant tonight I'll pleasure you properly. How's that?"

643 nods and manages a strangled, "Thank you, sir," as the handler teases her some more.

[blackveine]

Language: English

Chapters: 6/6

Words: 39973

Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series), The Legend of Vox Machina (Cartoon)

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Relationships: Percival “Percy” Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vax’ildan

Character(s): Percival “Percy” Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Vax’ildan, Scanlan Shorthalt

Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, not between any of the main characters but important to be aware of, Pre-Stream, minimal spoilers for canon events, Mutual Pining, not actual unrequited crush, Slow Burn, it’s all about the romantic tension, Developing Friendships, Pre-Relationship

Series: Vox Machina Fics, Pelor’s Harvest

Summary: Sequel to Pelor’s Harvest. The morning after introduces even more complications—a kidnapping plot that lured the group from Emon, an alchemist who’s been making an aphrodisiac, and a truly incredible amount of mutual pining.