#the big wet eyes syndrome is out of control!!!

[dykedivorce]

THE WHEEL OF TIME | 2x06 "Eyes Without Pity"

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Give My Madness Rein - a Magnus Archives Fanfic

The Archive saw all.

The Archive felt nothing.

Then the river dried up, the knowledge stopped, and the only thing that mattered was him.

“Say I am mad and give my madness rein to wreck itself; the worst that can befall Is but to die an honorable death.” —Sophocles

Spoilers for the whole show. This is post-MAG 200.

Part one of the Magnus Monsterverse AU.

AO3

---------------

They saw all.

Everything that was.

Everything that had been, stored in memory and revisited.

Nothing that would be, for that was Future, and Uncertain, and It did not like Uncertain things.

It, however, did not care. It couldn’t.

And then, for no reason, They saw nothing, nothing at all.

Something had come between It and It.

As the river that was knowing dried, a hollowness of need and hunger and pain rushed into its place.

It did not know that It was screaming until It had reason to stop.

#

It stopped because It could see the eyes.

Green eyes, flecked with brown, framed with red-gold lashes. Eyes It knew, eyes that felt like—

“It’s really Jon?” said the owner of the eyes.

(Jon, Hebrew, derivative of Jonathan, meaning God has given, first recorded in the Torah. Notable Jons through history include Adkins, baseball player; Anderson, musician; Cuishaw, comedian; Davidson—)

“Yeah,” said someone else, someone familiar who did not matter. “Gotta clean him off—eons of muck all over—but it’s him.”

“But he doesn’t know me,” said the owner of the eyes, voice suddenly hoarse and tight. (Tension dysphonia, evidenced as incoordination of the vocal control system, which can be caused by stress and anxiety—) “He doesn’t know me!”

“Told you he wouldn’t right away.”

All that mattered was the owner of those eyes. It did not care who else was speaking, and that made Them of two minds.

It wanted to look at the other person, too, and see as much as It could.

It did not want to look away from the eyes.

It needed the gap filled, the hollowness no longer emptied, knowledge and dreams and fears in a river.

It chose to continue looking at the eyes and nowhere else. Home safe settled still—

The eyes grew wet. (Lacrimation, an abnormal or excessive secretion of tears due to local or systemic disease or emotional distress—)

And then the eyes turned away.

Screaming took their place.

#

It screamed.

(Lost aching empty)

(Big hungry dark adrift)

No up, no down, no ground. It screamed.

Until the eyes came back, and then It was able to stop.

#

“Really?” said the owner of the eyes. “The whole time?”

“Yep. Whatever was done to his physiognomy, we can’t put him under. It just doesn’t stop—unless you’re here.”

The owner of the eyes said, “I need a minute,” and left. (Slammed the door, which is a common symptom of psychological distress or emotional hijacking, communicating anger or a need to close one off from whatever caused the outburst—)

It had felt nothing for so long that this new emotion was not easy to identify, but It thought this might be “heartbreak.” (Stress cardiomyopathy, also called broken heart syndrome, often brought on by stressful situations and extreme emotions—)

It did not like the ache, but had no recourse. To bring the eyes back was doing. That was planning.

It did not do those things.

But It used to. Did It not?

This was… a memory of Its own, not through the churning mind of another. It used to plan.

The eyes returned, and the question of planning ceased to matter. “Sorry.”

“For crying out loud, did you have to slam the door? You woke up Agnes,” said the one-who-did-not-matter (and It grew vaguely aware of another sound elsewhere, muffled, like crying and crackling fire, but that did not matter either because the eyes were here).

“Sorry,” said the eyes again.

“I swear, you’re either Martin the Invisible or Martin the Big Stomping Elephant.”

“Very funny. And wouldn’t some kind of whale be more appropriate?”

Martin.

“No, because they don’t have gills.”

Martin?

“Point,” said Martin.

(Beeping annoying unimportant background—)

“Wait, what’s happening? What’s going on?”

“Oh, hell. Step back. There’s activity. The monitors—”

Martin!

“Activity? What does that mean?”

“It means he’s getting really upset and accessing his powers, and we can’t do a damn thing to stop him. Step back!”

(Martin Blackwood, no middle name, K does not mean Kartin, poet, marked by the Lonely, marked by the Eye, four inches taller than—)

Than

(Than what?)

Than

They remembered. 

Martin was dead.

Vaguely, It was aware that It screamed, and that Its scream did harm, and the owner of the eyes cried out.

(“Fucking powers!” cried the one-who-did-not-matter.)

Sparking and cracking sounds, bad sounds and shouting. (Beeping, unknown, electronic in origin, possibly an alarm signifying a system of biological or mechanical nature no longer working as intended—)

Martin cried out, and It responded to Martin’s cry, because harming Martin was the worst thing that could ever be.

Stopped. Stopped screaming. Fell silent, gasping, choking it in.

And time slipped, lost.

#

“—understand what just happened!” Martin’s voice. (Martin: Latin, meaning warrior of Mars, dedicated to Mars, given to the god of war—)

“He recognized you. I knew he would, but not this quickly.”

Martin was dead.

“Recognized me? Look, I’ve never met this fucking thing before!”

“Nice. I’m sure that won’t come back to bite you.”

Martin was dead.

“Sash, for fuck’s sake…”

Pain.

(I’ve never met this fucking thing before—)

Rejection?

It knew rejection.

It did not acknowledge rejection.

It knew rejection, and knew it well. It hurt.

“What did you want me to say, then?” said Martin. “After everything we did to get him back—”

“What? You thought he’d just wake up and know you at once? After floating as the Pupil for centuries?” The one-who-did-not-matter sighed. “It takes time. It took you time.”

“I need him so much. I don’t know if I can wait. I… I’ve waited already. I don’t know if I can...”

Gentler. “I know you don’t mean that.”

Martin sighed. “You’re right. I don’t.”

(Choked. Kept it in. Did not scream. Must not hurt him—)

“What if we were too late, huh? What if there’s nothing left?”

“If there wasn’t, he wouldn’t give a damn what your name was.”

Martin.

“I need a minute,” Martin said, and walked away again.

Slammed the door again.

Rejection.

The eyes.

The voice.

Martin.

But Martin was dead.

Its eyes rolled back in Its head (all of them all of the eyes) and everything went dark.

#

“Jon. Please wake up. I’m sorry. Please wake up.”

The eyes.

The voice.

Him.

It wanted to speak. To say Martin’s name. It moved Its tongue to find only eyes.

“He’s responding,” said the one-who-did-not-matter. “Keep it up.”

“Hi, Jon,” said Martin, said the anchor-the-one-who-mattered (but Martin was dead). “I’m here. I’m here.”

It cried because it could not say his name.

It did not understand.

It needed to say his name.

It only needed to know his name.

It needed—

Opened mouth throat thought tongue, past eyes, past shapes, past things that only saw and did not speak.

“Why is he crying?” said Martin.

“I don’t know, but it’s a good sign. A display of human emotion is a hell of a lot more important than why he’s doing it.”

“I don’t like this,” said Martin.

Had to say the name. “Martin.”

“Oh!” said the other person-who-did-not-matter. “Did you hear that? Did I have a stroke? Did he say it?”

“He said it,” whispered Martin.

It hurt. This was too much, hurt too much. Like peeling open Itself, reaching in, taking out everything.

The green eyes, there. Just there. Here.

Martin was de-

It knew that was wrong. Martin was alive.

It knew this was not wrong. Martin was dead.

It did not care what It knew, what was wrong, whether this fact mattered or could be recalled. “Martin.”

“Yes, Jon, it’s me.”

The strain—

It could not accept the untruth.

It needed the untruth.

Its eyes rolled back again into the dark.

#

“Easy.”

Martin.

Martin’s voice.

Martin. Hand on his face. (Face? It had a face? It… I… I had a face?)

But Martin was—

“I’m here. It’s okay. Hey… hey, look at me, would you?”

It did, with all of Itself. I did. With… all of… It… I… me.

Martin shuddered, seen, stripped, beheld.

(Martin.)

“Easy,” said Martin, voice shaky, as the beep of monitors dinged confusingly, like multiple hearts.

It could—I could—only see him.

His eyes. Here. Now. His hair, touched with white like frost. His smile, hopeful, trembling. His tears.

Martin.

“But you died,” came from my throat, and I almost went away again.

Wanted to, to disassociate, to… (A disconnection between a person’s thoughts, memories, feelings, actions or sense of who they are—)

“No, Jon,” said Martin, tight. “You did.”

“I did?”

It disagreed. I had not died. He had.

A gasp. The other person who-did-not-matter. “He asked?”

“You’re asking questions.” Martin wiped his eyes. “You’re really in there. You aren’t gone.”

I was shaking. It sh… I shook. “No,” I said. “I remember. You died. We… he went for you. Trevor Herbert. I was wrong. He went for you, and he shot you. You died. And I—”

“It’s okay,” Martin said, but it wasn’t.

“I gave myself to It because I could not—”

“It’s okay!”

Nothing was okay. “I screamed!” I said, unable to look away from him, unwilling to even blink. “I screamed, but it didn’t bring you back. That’s the last thing I recall as… myself. And now, I screamed here, too—the first thing I recall, finding myself. You must have had me, all along.”

I didn’t even know what I was saying.

Martin sniffled. Tears slid down his cheeks (and I remembered those cheeks, remembered them against my lips, remembered his scent, remembered his sweet stubble). “You’re in there. She was right. You’re in there.”

“Told you,” said the one-who-did-not-matter (though I knew her voice, and that was strange).

“You died,” I said, and the words stuck in my throat.

“No. We made it to the Panopticon. And I had to kill you there.”

“What?” I said, because that had not happened. “I ring like a bell,” I said then, because every word I spoke echoed in me.

“Easy,” said the other voice. “Keep breathing.”

Suddenly, I knew her. “Sasha?”

“Hey.” She came into view.

And it was her. It really was her. Just a few years older, a pinch more gray at her temples, but alive. “Hi, Jon,” she said, her crooked smile, her slightly uneven teeth, her eyes big and brown behind her glasses.

“You aren’t not-Sasha,” I told her.

“Right,” she said. “In my timeline, I didn’t go into Artefact Storage. It didn’t get me. It got Tim.”

“Tim?” I said.

“He’s alive here,” said Martin. “In his timeline, he didn’t blow up the museum. Daisy did.”

“Tim is alive?” (tension dysphonia). I was so confused, and there was such a beauty to it; to being confused, to not knowing, a sweet and magnificent ache that I didn’t know I missed until this moment. “How?”

“Oh, we were a nexus, or something,” said Sasha. “Everybody there was basically a chosen one, you know? So we all got our chance.” Her voice dropped, bitter. “And we all blew it. Ended the world. Go, us.”

“What?” I said.

“It’s okay,” said Martin. “You’ve got time. You don’t have to understand it yet.”

Martin was alive, and I laughed.

Sasha looked startled.

Martin smiled. “Something funny?”

“Yes! Yes, I…” I didn’t even remember reaching, grabbing, closing the eyes on my hands and my arms so I could pull him close, and he sat on the bed with me, letting me pull him close. “We’re here, and…we’re alive, and… it’s too ridiculous, and…”

“Jon,” whispered Martin.

“You know what? How about I give you guys a minute?” said Sasha. “If anything on these monitors changes…”

“I’ll get you,” he said, thick, not taking his eyes from me.

I couldn’t see properly. The room was a fuzzy white, too bright, sterile. But I could see Martin. “How is this possible?”

“Leitner,” he said.

“Leitner?” And I kissed Martin, because Leitner could go to hell. I remembered Martin. His lips. His teeth. His chin, the way it bumped against mine. “If I close my eyes, you might go away again,” I said against his perfect mouth.

“I won’t,” he said. “I’ll never. You’re really you,” he said, his hand in my hair, and he sobbed.

My body ached, felt weird; most of my eyes were closed. “How?” I said again, because I had to know.

“Would you believe there’s one universe where Leitner wasn’t an ass?” said Martin, and laughed.

I laughed, too. I remembered how to do it so easily now. “I do not believe that.”

“I mean, he still fucked it up. We all did. All of us here, our universes ended. All of—”

“Then you’re not my Martin?” I said, interrupting him.

He stroked my hair. “I am. I mean. I’m the one you knew. We just… we all branched off. We—our group, in the Archives—we were the breaking point.”

“Breaking point?” I kissed him again. Same taste. Same scent. Same—

He had a tiny scar on his cheek that he didn’t before. A little notch, barely visible.

He let me touch it, and didn’t flinch away. “Got that when the Panopticon fell.”

Was I crying? I was crying. “I made you kill me?” Because of course, it had to be something I did. He wouldn't have just done it.

He swallowed.

“What did I do? You still won’t go away?”

“Never. Where you go, I go.”

“Even though you had to kill me?” I could barely hear my own words.

“I had to,” he whispered. “To stop the Eye. But it ended everything. I was in… I was in some kind of endless sea for… I don’t know how long.”

He still wanted to be near me after that?

I couldn’t comprehend it. Or what I must have done. Or how he could forgive. “But how am I here? I’m not killed,” I said, because I had to know.

Martin’s smile. Patient. Longsuffering. Fond. Knowing me. (I was known.) “Leitner and Manuela, who… isn’t awful? She’s an impossible physicist. Into wormholes. Alternate universes. Anyway, Leitner’s trying to make up for what he did by rescuing remnants. Us. Leftovers from universes that died because of our little group. It’s a mess.”

It had been so long since I felt anything, and now I felt too much. “He is? Why?”

“Guilt. He fucked up, and he felt shitty, and this is how he decided to atone.”

“By kidnapping people?” I blurted, feeling stupid, trying to make it make sense.

Martin laughed. “I missed you so much,” and then he was holding me, and it was so tight, and it was him, and that was his heart, and this was my Martin, and I—

Martin was dead.

So maybe I’d gone crazy.

Maybe the Eye did too much to me, and I was still in the world the Eye made, floating, mind snapped like dry wood, imagining things.

If it was, if I’d really lost it, and this wasn’t happening… I didn’t care.

“I want this,” I told him, clutching, keeping all my extra eyes closed. “I need you.”

“I know.”

“I love you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I got you killed.”

He looked so pale. “Jon… it wasn’t your fault. I know that, now,” he said to me, and I knew (knew, which I didn’t want to do anymore, but apparently, that still happened) I was forgiven.

And then I cried, and it was good, and painful, and human, and I let it come and didn’t try to stop it because that was a thing I’d forgotten how to do and finally remembered.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered again.

And my fingers dug into his back, and he kissed my jaw.

“I’ve got you, Jon,” he said, and I knew he meant it.

(But I’ve never met this fucking—)

Erased. He no longer thought that. And even if he did, I no longer cared.

If this was the lie, I would live it.

It was not happy.

I did not care. “I have too many eyes.”

Martin laughed. “Um. Ask me about gills sometime.”

“What?”

He laughed again, and his cheeks went red, and his eyes were shiny, but not from sorrow.

I pulled him down to the bed, on top of me like a heavy, hot blanket. “I want to know about gills.”

“I promise I’ll tell you all of everything,” Martin said, and settled, his breath against my neck.

I held him.

He held me.

He went to sleep like that, on me, like he hadn’t slept in twenty years, breathing just under my ear.

I still could not sleep, but that didn’t matter. Only one thing did: him.

Sasha came to check, smiled to find him unconscious, and left us alone.

I didn’t understand what happened. Not really. Not yet. Eventually, I would. It didn’t matter.

Martin was d

I could not live with that truth anymore.

Martin was not dead. He was here. And so was I. (And maybe Martin needed that untruth, too, if he’d had to kill me.)

I closed all my eyes, and ignored Its complaints, and held my Martin.

If this was madness, it was also my joy, and I would wrap it around my heart and engrave it on my bones and sear it in the backs of all of my eyes.

If this was madness, it was mine, and I would never let it go.

-----

Notes:

So in case it wasn't clear: There was ONE universe where Leitner was not a complete asshole, but was trying to run around sort of... Gertruding his way through life, being a "good" guy. He blew it, and his universe died. But not before he could connect with Manuela, who, instead of a Dark Sun, was working on wormholes. They got out. He felt bad. He discovered that there were numerous universes like his thanks to group of people going back about forty years, all of whom were somehow connected. They also all managed to end the world like he did - in flame, or darkness, or any number of things. He felt bad. One thing led to another, and... it's puppy-rescue time. What will happen with them all back together in one place? Nobody knows! No one is the same. They've all been changed. Most are monsters. But Martin is alive, and to at least one person, that's the only thing that matters.

[peachymilkandcream]

Levi x Evelyn -> Blurred Lines

(A/N: Not a specific request but I've been wanting to do a drunk Levi smutshot, it fits so well with the two of them and I'm here for it! Please give me some more requests though, I'm in the mood)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

==============================================

Whether it was all part of Levi's plan or just her survival instincts kicking in Evelyn had come to learn how to deal with his personality. He was an asshole through and through but there was almost a special trick to dealing with him and make sure she didn't have to wear long sleeves in the summer. Levi was a touch starved man, despite his hard exterior all he wanted was affection and respect, at the loss of her dignity she could give him that. However nothing could have prepared her for what would happen when Levi's drinking habit got the better of him.

It was late, she was still awake reading but his footsteps on the stairs snapped her out of her own thoughts. Panic made her heard pound, the book she had been reading was a romance, a big no no in Levi's eyes, he believed that things like that were toxic since they gave her a view of relationships different from the one they had. The only reason she had one is because the one time she had been permitted to visit Hange she had given it to her. Desperately she tried to hide it, throwing it under the pillow and facing Levi as he threw the door open.

He was a dishevelled mess, sweat making his hair wet, his shirt untucked and barely buttoned. She didn't understand what was wrong until she saw how glassy his eyes seemed and the way he stumbled over to her, he was either tipsy or drunk. Drunk Levi was the worst kind, he became more violent and less in control of his own rage.

"Welcome home Levi." She tried so hard to keep her voice pleasant, careful not to upset him.

He sits on the side of the bed and pulls off his boots with some effort, muttering inaudibly to himself and ignoring her. Hopefully he'd just go to bed and sleep it off, maybe then she'd be fine.

She wasn't so lucky. Levi swung a leg over her so he was straddling her waist, supporting himself by the forearms while he kissed her sloppily and aggressively. All he wanted was her to enjoy what he gave her, and when he was in a state like this, compliance was the best option.

Evelyn pretended to moan into his kiss, hopefully he was too drunk to tell the difference. She made a show of it, tangling her fingers in his hair and into her pillow to make him feel like she couldn't take it, that he felt so good she couldn't handle it. Her thoughts on how to make it more believable made her forget about the book hidden under the pillow, so when she slid her arms up the corner became exposed.

Nothing missed Levi's attention, he immediately stops, sitting up and looking at the book. He tries hard to focus, taking longer than usual and just making her heart pump faster in worry. Maybe he couldn't focus, maybe she'd be safe, maybe he'd just go to sleep.

"Where'd you, get this filth..?" Evelyn winces when his words aren't as slurred as she hoped.

"A friend gave it to me, don't worry about it-" She reaches to gently take it from him but he holds it out of reach.

"Did I give you permission to read shit like this?"

"Well, no, but I figured it's fine."

"Oh you figured did you?" He flips through the pages, skimming through before throwing the book across the room. "Fucking words gave me a headache."

"I'm sorry if I shouldn't have read it-"

"That smut, you read it because you want me to do that to you, is that it?"

Sweat formed on the back of her neck, that's the last thing she wanted, those books usually had some of the most fucked up and degenerate kinks in them. In the hands of Levi when he wasn't fully self aware...he could kill her.

"No Levi- honest, Hange just wanted me to read it and see what I thought."

Levi climbs over her again, slower, more predatory. "You want me to give you a chance to escape, chase you through the woods and fuck you when I catch you?"

Evelyn backs up against the headboard, trying to put as much distance from him as possible but failing.

"Drug you to the point you act like a dog because you're so needy for me to fuck you?"

"No Levi I didn't mean it like that-"

"Carve my name into your skin after using you as a cum dump?"

He was over top of her now, his hands grabbing her wrists and pinning them down, he was so strong he was sure to leave brusies.

"Make you exchange your basic needs for sex."

Her lip quivers. "Levi..just go to bed, you're drunk-"

"Just shut the fuck up and bend over."

"Levi-"

He doesn't let her respond, grabbing her by the waist and flipping her over onto her stomach. When she tried to move he just grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, she immediately stopped, worried with his strength he'd pull her hair out completely.

He seemed to be fumbling with putting it in, to get it over with, Evelyn tried shifting to help. She felt him poking her ass, threatening to push in, to which she quickly said.

"Wait Levi that's the wrong one-" Her words were cut by a choked scream.

Without and preparation he had pushed himself inside pulling her hair to bring her onto him, her body squeezed to get him out to which he responded with a slap on her backside.

"Stop your bitching."

It seemed like he couldn't decide between pulling her hair and pushing her face into the mattress so she did both. One moment she would be pushed down so hard she could barely breath, the next he was pulling her head up to the ceiling.

His thrusts were ruthless, her body couldn't just relax to him, fighting him at every step of the way. Somewhere in the back of his mind it was simply pain and a natural reaction, but at the forefront of his mind was the idea she was fighting him, which only made him want to put her in her place more.

There was blood, Evelyn tried to relax but each vicious assault made her body instinctually clench, she was trying not to allow the pain to get to her but it was too much. She wanted to do something to help his rage but every time she focused on anything else the force of his actions brought her jolting back to reality.

Tears blurred her vision, forced to take what he gave, that's how it always was, no matter what she did. It was always the same. It would always be the same. She realized he would never change, she could act a certain, be his perfect wife and he would never change. He would never care for her wellbeing, it was always and only him. It would always be him.

As he finished inside her with a sigh, Evelyn's resolve to escape this man returned, she would be free of him one way another, she would die trying if that's what it took. He would not win.

[hoosurdaddy]

Semirandomly.

Dark!Eddie Munson x Reader x Dark!Steve Harrington.

(TW: Poly-relationship, implied kidnapping (already happened), talks of Eddie going to court (he doesn’t btw), mentions of drugs, Stockholm &Lima syndrome (not mentioned but the way the reader talks it is implied), Implied smut, sad ending kinda).

"Y/N, We're home." Steve shouted as he allowed Eddie in first, than followed. The two had court today, well Eddie had. After being falsely accused of the murders in Hawkins and being there each time Vecna took control, naturally Eddie became number one suspect. Eventually, Vecna was stopped, Eddie was caught and brought to court. You were unaware of any of this going on around you. Steve and Eddie had you sheltered from the whole turn of events. You knew nothing about Vecna (thankfully, he never found you either), the upside down, nothing.

Eddie and Steve both fell head over heels in love with you when you walked into the DVD store one day. They couldn't believe someone as beautiful as you lived in Hawkins. It's when you began going out with that asshole Billy Hargrove was when they realized they needed to have you, no girl of theirs was going to be with an asshat such as Billy Hargrove. They've loved you every moment of every day since that night they brought you home.

When Eddie and Steve would leave for a long time, they used the excuse that they were fighting monsters to protect you and that you had to stay up in your room. You did, always. You were terrified to be anywhere else without having either Steve or Eddie, or both with you. They told you stories of the monsters and curses that roamed through Hawkins, you never believed it until one day Steve came home, all bruised up. Eddie told you a story about how the monster attacked Steve with big tentacles, wet arms, a wormed face, and was about nine feet tall.. They couldn't help it, you looked so cute when you scared. Your eyes widened, a pout on your lips, and head down as you quickly rushed to help and attend to Steve's wounds.

You were terrified from that day on, opting to stay by their side. You were so grateful to have Steve and Eddie by your side to protect you from all those monsters. They would reassure you that the monsters couldn't hurt you as long as you were with them. That they would protect you, that no man in Hawkins would know how to protect you from the monsters like they could. Most importantly, no one would love you like they would.

The sound of you pattering feet on the titles of their room, made the two men smile before you jumped into Eddie's arms and wrapped your arms around him before hugging Steve. "How was it?" You asked brightly as Eddie wrapped his arm around you, placing a few kisses on your cheek and lightly tickled your sides.

Steve, on the other side, stroked your hair gently, laughing with you let out a squeal as Eddie tickled your side. "Well.." Steve started, smiling again when he seen you bubbling with excitement. He looked over to Eddie, who was looking at You and smiling.

"Eddie has officially let go as a free man."

Your eyes widened as you let out an excited squeal as you hugged Eddie once more. They had lied to you about the killings in Hawkins and Eddie's (none) involvement in the murders and the court date. They told you that Eddie had been caught with drugs, which you've seen him selling multiple times through the cracks in the wall.

"That means we can leave Hawkins, right? Away from the monsters, right?"

Eddie stroked your back lightly. "Yes, baby. We can finally move." You left Eddie's arms to give Steve a hug, who playfully squeezed your bum. "How about we celebrate in honour of our Eddie."

You giggle at Steve, yanking his arm gently. "Not yet." You looked back at Eddie, who was looking like he was ready to attack you. "I made a celebration dinner and dessert too."

Before Steve could reply, Eddie swooped in and picked you up in his arms, making your dress fly up in the air. Eddie takes you by surprise when he grabs the back of your neck and smashes his lips upon yours. You close your eyes as you let yourself melt into it, trying your best to get you closer to him. Eddie gently pulls away from your lips.

“We've missed you.”

"I know."

Both Steve and Eddie laugh at you. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

You snuggle up to him.

You grabbed Steve by his white t-shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. Steve loved when you initiated things. They both were glad you had become so confident around them. They were happy, you were happy. And, eventually, you three would be leaving Hawkins, but right now, celebrations were in order.

After dinner, You three clean up before racing upstairs. You could hear Steve laughing at something Eddie said, and you could hear Eddie doing some weird impression. You could hear movement on the bed, you could only assume that they were engaging in foreplay, mouths and fingers on each other's body. Eddie called for You, but Steve came to check on you.

You were busy getting ready. You were fixing your makeup in the mirror, double checking on how you looked. You wearing a velvet, purple teddy lingere that Eddie had bought for you on your birthday, making you promise to wear it on a special event. Why not today? It was a celebration of your new beginnings. A new start, away from Hawkins.

"Is everything okay?" Steve traced circles on the flower pattern of your lingere, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "Are you happy, Y/N?"

You don't reply. You couldn't reply unless you wanted Steve and Eddie to think you were crazy. In the other side of the mirror, You could see yourself, the girl that was once trapped inside the attic. You hardly recognize yourself.

She screams and screams as she breaks her fist against the mirror, trying to escape. She’s begging you to get out. The bruises and cuts on her hands from the fighting you once done were showing. You wish you could tell her to stop, that she will never leave, that it was too dangerous.

"YN?"

You turned and smiled at Steve.

A crooked one.

[yanderenightmare]

How would the yanderes react if their darling was the one to initiate intimacy/sex for the first time, and how do you think their darling would come to that point? (stockholm syndrome? being touch starved/deprived as punishment? etc.)

thirsty ! BNHA imagines

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon/dubcon, abuse, profanity, anxiety, guilt, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mind control

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

-ADDICTION

She was riding for dear life, chasing that light at the end of the tunnel.

Eyes tightly squeezed shut as she hopped up and down, sliding upon Bakugo’s impressive girth, moaning each time his tip poked into her cervix as she clapped down onto his lap again and again and again and again, harder and harder, deeper and deeper, hitting knew spots upon new spots, messaging uncharted territory, rearranging her organs, poking and prodding and fitting so snuggly and perfectly inside her she could all but start crying from the bliss of it all.

She was crying. Hot tears streaming down her cheeks, numb with how warm she was, feverish and febrile and growing madder with pleasure, drunk and drowning in euphoria.

“Fuck.” He stuttered out his gruff moan, barely holding onto her hips anymore.

He'd been inspired and insured that it would be fine to let her move on her own now, knowing he’d made it clear enough she wouldn’t be going anywhere without him being satisfied first, thinking she was showing so much enthusiasm simply to make him come quicker.

He hadn't yet sensed how desperately she was chasing the same release he was, especially since he’d already made sure she came twice before they even started. Once on fingers, once on his tongue. He wasn’t at all thinking she was preparing herself for a third time, especially not on his cock.

Having left her to do all the work for a while now, having been rendered completely blissed-out and awestruck with feeling her eager movements on top of him, he couldn’t really care much for how pathetic a mess he must have looked beneath her.

His eyes scrunched together to hold onto every sharp movement of her hips, lips pursed out and puckered with his grit-teeth, his cock standing proudly, pushing into her again and again at such a fast pace he was barely able to feel his climax coming dangerously close, too numb with pleasure to part it from his release, but as his balls were emptying inside her he shot up into a sitting position in favor of lying down, needing to hold her still so he could pump his load without it spilling, arms reaching around her to keep her pushed down and impaled on him.

She tried humping for more friction even in the tight secured lock, rocking into him, kept snug against his chest, trying so desperately to reach with his cock what was screaming inside her.

He made some indication he was done. His thick arms losing their grip around her torso, head resting on her shoulder as he panted, not yet understanding what hell or heaven he was in for, taken by surprise, by overwhelming panicked surprise.

“No!” She roared out her little whine. Her smaller hands protruding nails digging into his chest to push him back down on the bed, then continuing to ride despite feeling him tense beneath her. 

He tried moving again, fearing, panicking because of his overstimulated cock being continuously pleased almost enough for it to be painful. The hunger already quenched being kept fed, drowning the thirst, so much he felt as though something might burst.

Her hands moved to yank his hair, pulling him back to rest on the pillow, her other hand pushing, seizing around his throat, violating his Adam’s apple, forcing him to gasp as he choked both on the action itself but also at the sheer controversy of it all.

Her mouth hovering above his own as he groaned from the pain of having his hairs ripped from his scalp and his vocal cords abused, whereas she only moaned in return, too concerned with feeling every inch of her being on fire to care.

“Oh fuck, please, Katsuki, please, more.”

Something tight tugged in his pelvis at the same time awe blossomed in his chest at the sight of her and those pretty eyes looking at him with tears and that sweet crinkle of plead between her brows.

His name dripping from her tongue like honey as she continued going up and down the length of his oversensitive cock, slipping even easier in now when coated in his cum. Her thighs sticking to his in juices as her head dipped to lay against his chest while she continued slapping, jumping on his cock with an unrelenting, unsatisfied determination.

His cock throbbed inside her, nearly crying, screaming with something playfully akin to aching, a pressure building again even as he thought it impossible.

She was stabbing herself with his cock, squeezing and seizing and fluttering around the blade, driving him mad.

But as soon as he got over the feeling of bursting, could he pull himself back.

Grabbing her waist and hoisting her off him, she nearly sobbed at the loss of contact.

He pouted in mimic, condescendingly. “Is the little slut begging for more?”

He grinned maniacally as he mounted her, surprised to see and feel her desperately trying to get closer as he pushed her down into the sheets beneath him, lining himself up with her sopping greedy cute little cunt.

He only teased for about a moment more before impaling her on his length once again, pushing all the way into her in a mere swift second, dragging a real pornstar-beautiful moan from her, gleeful to see her squeal with pleasure as he began thrusting into her sharply, angled to hit that sweet blissful spot inside her.

“Be a good girl and cum for me again.” He growled and she swore she felt it like thunder in her stomach, like explosions, like lightning striking. “That’s what you want isn’t it?” The frenzy in his voice, once only terrifying, now made her toes curl and her head feel like cotton. “You want me to make you cum? You want to cum on my cock like a good slut? My slut? Come on, cum for me.”

She was being fucked completely silly.

Tongue falling from her mouth along with a string of wet moans and drool and his name. Her eyes swimming with tears as she tried focusing on his and the gut-churning look of feral dominant lust in the heat of them that had her pussy clenching around him, yet was barely able to hold his gaze as she was being fucked into a cross-eyed mess, feeling the pressure build and build and build and getting so close to bursting she was crying with how she was being kept from her climax by some unknown cruelty.

She just needed him to go harder, go faster.

She just needed more, she just needed him, needed him and his glorious cock to help her.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

-APOLOGY

“I hate you!”

It slipped before she was able to stop it, before she could reconsider, before she could save herself.

She watched with terror-wide eyes locked on his, awaiting whatever awful murderous intent he chose fit for her punishment, and was at once trembling.

Knees growing weak, apologies falling broken on her tongue as her fear’s need to cry outweighed her wish for recovery, resulting in simply blubbering on her sobs. Small frail hands reached out in protection, in a timid means of making him give her a second to gather herself as she fell apart with the painful fear that clenched around her heart, making it hard to breath, making it hard to see, hard to stand, hard to think, hard to do anything except for gasp for air, air that seemed to not want to enter her lungs quick enough.

“Hey, hey… breathe.”

She hadn’t even realised she’d collapsed, nor that Izuku had come to catch her fall, rocking her back and forth in his arms, head resting in his palm. Her eyes wide and frantic as she looked up at him for help, helpless in her crippling anxiety, anxiety he was the trigger of and seemingly the only source of comfort as well.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I take it back, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, please, forgive me, forgive me!” She gulped on shuddering breaths, sobbing, hysterical in her scrambling, so completely panicked, so utterly destroyed by her fear of him, knowing how those hands of his could hold the world just as easy as her head and her heart, where despite knowing that through and through she still sought out the comfort in how his fingers stroked through her locks, petting her calm.

Her hands, retrieving more and more mobility, reached up to fold across his back.

“I don’t hate you, I’m sorry, I’m just stupid, forgive me, I’m just ungrateful and spoiled and stupid.”

Tears rolled down her face as she propped herself up in his lap, hands desperate as she intertwined them in his locks, fervently trying to make up for her mistake, trying to prove she was able to correct herself, that she didn’t need another lesson, another one of his mind-shattering bone-crushing lessons. 

The fact that he’d forced her into a perverted set of lingerie had fallen to waste, the fact that he’d been lecturing her about how she belonged to him, how she had no right to disobey him, how she was just a dumb little girl in a world too big for her to ever possibly understand, how she was good for nothing but being stress-relief for him. None of that mattered anymore.

What mattered was persuading him into taking enough pity on her to let her indiscretion slide.

She just needed to beg enough, she just needed to grovel and plead and cry enough.

“Sweetie…” He hummed, no anger present in his voice, but then again, there never was. Tone always laced or dripping with honey, giving no hint as to where his mindset was or what he was about to do.

And all it managed to do was make her cry harder, hold onto him tighter, fear climbing higher.

“It’s okay, Sweetie… I know you didn’t mean it.”

His words were all but reassuring, as she was waiting for the other side of the coin to show its face, waiting to hear his but’s and if’s and punishments and corrections, waiting for those hands of his to show her, to prove to her what she already knew yet let herself forget, that she was a small helpless stupid girl and he was nothing short of god.

“But…”

And there it was, her worst fear, her worst nightmare, all sounded in one word.

She couldn’t let him continue, and by god she couldn’t let him finish.

Wet soft bloated lips met, or rather pushed, forced themselves upon his stiff ones, suffocating all reprimanding comments, all and everything he was about to say.

She shuffled into a cradling position on his lap, body and chest glued tightly in his embrace, hands running, tangling, gripping desperately onto the emerald locks at the nape of his neck, lips whimpering upon his ones, as though begging them to kiss back.

That desperation tasted delicious on his tongue. How she sat on his lap like some wounded animal, begging for the kind and nurturing hand of their master to help soothe the pain away.

He wasn’t about to discourage that type of behavior, that form of apology.

She wasn’t ready to take his cock, but then again, she never was with how gifted he was and how cursed she were. His cock being so threateningly huge, just like the rest of him.

But given the rest of him was just as threatening, she could manage, she could survive taking but one of his limbs rather than having all his brutal strength take care of her.

So she buttoned up his pants, trembling fingers working hurriedly, spiked by fear of both what was to come and what would come were she to stop. Her mouth still laying sloppy tearful kisses onto his lips, as he didn’t seem to mind just how much she was sobbing to please him.

She was at once stroking him when he was out, her other hand rushing to save her own life as it messaged her clit, trying to warn her of what was to come, what needed to come.

Still he hadn’t said anything, still let her slave for him. Though that might be for the best in this case.

His large hands placed palms down on the floor, simply supporting him as he leaned on them.

When she broke off the kiss, he was about to correct her, yet she ducked quicker, wrapping her warm and wet lips around his cock and giving th head a swirl with her tongue before pushing down as far as she could, glucking on him so eagerly and desperately, rendering what reprimanding movement was to come of his hand to an encouraging petting of her head instead.

She only sucked for a brief moment, leaving the proudly bobbing spit-slicked pole cold once she parted with only strings of drool connecting them. She shuffling back up to align him with her entrance hurriedly.

Her lip quivered as she looked at him to search his stoic features, her body frozen, left to simply hover and sway above his impatient member, as she tried her best to quickly brace herself for the pain she was about to feel.

But then his patience wavered, and strong hands griped her hips and forced her down to take the cock, impaling her as he sheathed himself fully, earning a high-pitched screaming whimper from her.

She fell to his chest, hands tugging his shirt to steady herself as she winced at the feel of him tearing her apart.

“Silly me…” He chuckled, the sound cold and gut-wrenching. “Rewarding you when I should be punishing you.”

She breathed sporadically, hitched and hiccupping.

“I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve it-”

Agreeing was the only course of action for her, the only thing she could afford.

“That’s right, you don’t deserve it.”

But the world is far from fair.

TODOROKI SHOTO

-DISTRACTION

He was coming.

He was coming and nothing could stop him, nothing could change his mind, nothing could help and nothing could save her, except maybe the next worst thing.

Bargaining pain with unwanted pleasure, the price being her pride, her dignity, her strength.

It would happen anyway after he was done making pretty artwork of her flesh, after he’d tampered with her limits long enough.

She had the chance to skip to the end. But the price remained her spirit, steep like her fear and heavy like her mind, heart and soul scaled together.

And yet, she made the gamble.

It was either she let him bite, chew and swallow her heart and spirit and soul on repeat or she bit back.

This was her biting back.

This was survival of the fittest.

This was her surviving.

She needed to take her aim now or never, before he did it first. So, she barreled the arrow, struck the bow, leveled her hawkeye and took the shot.

“I love you, Shoto.” She proclaimed.

Arrow flying, hands smooth in receiving his chest before he could tug her towards him. Meeting his hungry approach with a focused desperation of her own, dedicated as she pushed him back so that he was the one sitting and she was the one on top for once.

Hands gentle, without much pressure, drumming up the bruises and scars of his chiseled stomach, one side cold, the other hot.

“Will you let me show you how much I love you?” She questioned.

Time to see if the arrow had hit, lips pressed firmly to his forehead a short second later, before pressing one against his temple, careful to not hurt him where the skin was scarred and sensitive around his eye, then one against his jaw, and neck, and shoulder, and chest, trailing down further and further.

He stirred once she kissed on a particular cut, his hands coming to hold her back as he began sitting up.

Yet she was firm in her resolution, her own hands pushing his shoulders down.

“No, no...” She tutted, tone still soft. Not at all as though she was giving him a demand. Not at all like how he thought a command should sound, what he’d learned his mistakes would grant him from those people he trusted.

Not at all like his father’s voice of tyranny and terror.

“Let me take care of you.” She whispered it, and his heart clenched with memories of how his mother would patch him up after training.

The arrow well planted in his chest now.

“You just lie back...”

She kissed his cheek then, adamant she’d make him cry, make him become soft, help him, to save herself.

“Relax....”

She kissed his lips then and she swore she heard him whimper like a kicked pup, all fragile beneath her, broken and just a boy rather than the cruel man she knew him to be.

And then he was crying. Softly and quietly, but crying nonetheless. Thin streams of saltwater running down the corners of his pretty eyes.

He looked so vulnerable then. Vulnerable like glass, no… like ice melting.

And when the ice had finally melted she could either swim or drown in what ocean was left behind, all depended on how softly she handled him, where one wrong word would make him sharp like bladed icicles again, and the right words would keep him like this. Small, weak, needy, tame. You can only kiss storms when you’re right in the eye of them, where one misstep will send you flying, falling, to your despair, to your death.

She could make no mistakes.

She aligned her naked sex up with his. The steam in the room layered thick with dew on their naked bodies, alongside nervous sweat.

“You and I are the only ones that matter in this entire world, Shoto…”

She sat down, hungrily ripping a groan from his chest at her almost brutal pace, and she moaned as she dipped down to lay herself on his chest, feeling him sink and twitch inside her, fill her up so perfectly, like two things falling into sync, like yin and yang, like balance.

“It’s only you and me between heaven and hell.”

She whispered the words like a chant, like witchcraft, the breath of them tickling his skin as she kissed down his pelvis, still firmly planted on top of him, hand trailing after, running over him smoothly and precisely, careful in their venture, before dropping down from the loft of his hips to entangle her small breakable finger in his destructive hands

“And everything else is just falling snow…”

She rocked her hips, like a smooth wave rolling into shore, thighs cradling his torso snugly, keeping him safe and trapped beneath her as she continued lolling forward on repeat, tentatively feeling after the pressure his hands gave hers, how tightly he squeezed, if it were a form of encouragement or discomfort, their wrists laid on the warmth of her thighs.

“I love you, Snow-Angel.” He cried, voice jagged and so far away from anything she’d ever heard.

And though this was what she’d been aiming for, having it enrol before her was a frightening type of uncharted waters she hadn’t at all any knowledge of how to tackle.

And that fear, the fear of drowning, increased so spectacularly when he sat up.

His fingers slipping from hers, leaving her control and wrapping around her torso instead, tightly, so tightly she feared he’d break her spine.

And then the heat followed, the blistering heat.

And then the cold, the promise of frostbite.

But then… he was still crying...

Crying like a toddler into her shoulder, nuzzling in her neck and all those terrifying and painful promises seemed to mellow, leaving her unscathed yet panicked, as without the pain she had no way of knowing when or where to go, resulting to her simply sitting there, comforting her captor, speared on his cock of her own choosing, with his tears running down her back.

Her heart beating painfully rapid in her chest as she slowly and unsurely raising her freed fingers to wrap into his dual-coloured locks, petting his head and hoping, praying she wasn’t falling prey to any false sense of safety.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

-HABIT

They were doing what they always did.

Simply lounging.

Slugged on the bed, in each-other’s arms. Sickly sweet fumes in the dank room. Air thick like a cloud, dark and grey and matt.

The walls having been erased or rather blurred out into nothing, leaving them there, floating in and about nothing, each-other’s warmth the only constant.

Where in the complete lack of scheduling it had become like schedule, like ritual to simply lay and do nothing, then do something that threw them back into exhaustion which in turn resulted in yet again doing nothing, except maybe sleep.

The day lacked much, and in its lacking there were certain expectations, certain instincts and impulses that had arisen inside her.

She knew something was coming, anticipation, she knew something was supposed to come, and yet they still laid there and did nothing, when they were supposed to be doing… well… something, so that they yet again could go back to doing nothing.

It was safe to say her head had become rather empty at this point.

“Are we forgetting something?” She felt the need to ask, felt the need to hear Dabi tell her, give orders in where she should go and what she should say, something not allowing her to feel the terror of why those necessasties had become second nature or why she found refuge in them.

He mumbled in return, tone dark and scratchy like gravel or coal, evoking something to twist in her lower abdomen and purr with pleasure. “And what would that be?”

Dabi’s hand still fingered a rolled blunt, perfect with his expertise and nimble lanky fingers. Hand dragged to his mouth to take the final blow, smoke puffed out into the small space of the bedroom, layered thickly in the air.

Her eyes puffy and watery and red yet remaining open out of habit. Her lips burned, or rather stung, prickled from the after affects, her mouth dry as though full of ash, and as she breathed she felt the scratchy raw feeling of her throat by how much she’d been coughing earlier.

Dabi was always certain she didn’t take proper drags, therefore resulting in taking the drag for her, locking his lips painfully tight around hers, blowing until her face turned red and he could be sure the smoke reached her lungs. He was never satisfied before her eyes glossed over, blank and stupid, blinking at him so softly, as all off her became softer and softer, both her gaze, her voice, her words, her actions, her thoughts, her resistance.

“I don’t know…” She honestly didn’t, all she felt was that something was missing, that she required something, or that something was required of her, the feeling that she was supposed to be doing something or have something done to her. 

Dabi turned his head to look at her, inspecting her features, the cute confusion warping her face into a feeble timid expression, brows softly scrunched together, eyes focusing on nothing yet something as she raked through her empty head, her foggy ditzy subdued head.

A look of near endearment present on his face as he watched on for a second for the sake of amusement.

He cupped her cheek, her eyes quickly skittering to meet his, as though on command, knowing by instinct that was what she was supposed to do.

“Are you waiting for something, doll?”

Her lips quivered, and he could already spot the brimming of bubbling tears that came flooding to the surface. Soon to be spluttering out hopeless mumbles if he didn’t save her from the fall first. He was almost tempted not to, if only to scoop up what was left afterwards, put the pieces back together in whatever order he so wished, but he was feeling benevolent tonight.

His smile was soft as it neared her, deceptively so, kind and well-wishing, as his lips met with hers.

It felt like salvation, it felt like peace, it felt like all was falling into place, the way they should be, and she felt safe, no… she felt saved. From what? She did not know, as she had not the mind to care. All she had the mind for was to kiss back.

She moved more on her own now, with the reminder of his tongue in her mouth, the taste making her feel like she was being welcomed home.

Leg sweeping over his to plant herself in his lap, in her rightful place, feeling the all too familiar poking of his hard cock kept bulged beneath the comfort or discomfort of his briefs and jeans, brushing into and past the thin fabric of her cotton laced panties, soon to be drenched, as on cue, as though she’d been taught that would be best.

Her eyes were wide, wide with falling, with being lost, with wanting him to catch her, to save her, wide with waiting, hanging onto his every movement, as though incapable of doing anything on her own, as though only capable of taking orders. Just as he’d shaped her.

His finger drummed alongside her thighs where she knelt on his cock. His other hand doing the same, meeting where his jeans were kept on, unbuttoning, then zipping down, all so slowly, all to watch her features turn even more lost, into something that looked so adorably like hope.

“Is this what you wanted?”

He pulled his stiff dick out of his boxers, having it spring and stand proudly in the air, curved and pierced with all sorts of fun.

She licked her lips mindlessly, eyeing the pole, wanting, no, needing, no… compelled to pull her underwear aside, revealing what dripping drooling well-trained mess had pooled from her.

Feeling so utterly fulfilled, it feeling so positively right, as though what she’d lost was now returned, was she’d been missing she’d found, and what more, what she’d been missing had been missing her as well, hungrily so, painfully so. It was all she could think of when she eased down onto the towering pole until she was filled up to the brim, only to push down some more to envelope him entirely, feel him stretch and curve inside her.

More after that, she didn’t know what she needed to do, but she was sure she’d know once she got there, she was sure Dabi would be a saint and tell.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

-BOREDOM

She was losing her mind.

It was a horrendous type of silence. Silence that wasn’t really silence at all as it was cut and sliced and murdered and bled out into the tactless endless mocking clicking of Tomura’s consoler.

Sharp aggressive smacks where he thumbed the joysticks, quick slaps with his long veiny bony fingers slamming with unneeded force into fragile buttons. 

She felt the sting in her temple, eyes squeezed so impossibly tight to a close as her ears sung with irritation.

“I’m done.”

She only barely recognised her own voice. Though she knew she mouthed the words and she knew she added timber and tone to sound them, but that whine, that sickly sweet defeat that laced the syllables, as though she were crying, as though she were begging, that wasn’t her, but that was who she’d become.

“You win.”

And she wasn’t at all sure if she cared anymore about her defeat.

“No… I’m about to.” He mumbled, eyes glancing to her briefly, split-secondly, before they swiftly, with lightning speed, stuck back to watch the bright screen a foot in front of him, the clicking made by his ruthless fingers never once stopping.

She wondered how such force was even possible, given he had to lift one digit on each hand in order not to destroy what he held so preciously. How he had the grip, the agility, the mobility and speed and precision was something that spurred through her mind each time she watched him go on, winning more so than losing. She guessed it was practice. Sometimes it would amaze her, somedays she would watch mindlessly as he sped through all levels, all ranks, all challenges, all side quests, win after win, wondering if it even posed any challenge, any stimulation when he seemed to complete them all with such ease and finesse, effortlessly.

Sometimes it would amaze her, but this was not one of those times.

She swore her ears were bleeding, they were screaming and crying and strangling all wishes she had of sleep. The bed was too soft and everything was too soft, too quiet, yet not quiet at all and she was so fucking bored, so fucking drained of everything and anything except irritation and the need for something and anything, something loud, something sharp to wake her up, something terrifying or something anything everything that could make her feel something anything everything.

She needed it, and she needed it desperately, all things aside, fuck who she was, and especially fuck that shitty fucking game he was playing.

“Fuck! Your stupid! Game! Tomura!”

She hadn’t even realized she’d slid off the bed and was standing on her numb feet, game controller snatched from him in one second and smashed to smithereens on the wall in the next.

She looked more shook than him, if he was being honest.

Nonetheless.

“What the fuck?!”

He was mad, no, he was fuming.

And she lived for it.

“I swear, you’re gonna pay-”

He hadn’t even reached her before her lips split into a grin, eyes like lightning awaiting the thunder.

“Gladly, punish me, do something, do anything!”

She wasn’t proud with her playful hinting, but you aren’t supposed to live your life without doing things you regret. And though she was playing spoiled brat for a notorious villain, the most dangerous individual she’d ever met, he also had a cock crafted by monsters that seemed to hit every spot it needed to, finding and creating new ones as it filled her up to the brim and she was salivating just by the thought of being split open on it, especially by seeing what mood she’d conjured from him.

But, even though her pride dripped from between her thighs, she was not too eager to plainly say that she desired his dick balls-deep within her needy cunt.

“What?”

He’d stopped in his tracks, eyeing her. And though some part of him wanted to believe what disgusting depraved thoughts he had regarding why she was seeking his attention, he knew better, rendering her annoyance to simply picking a fight with her captor, quite like a how child throws tantrums at their parents or prisoners riot.

Turns out her playful words did little to sway his thoughts regarding the situation.

“You’ve been playing your dumb videogames all week!” She whined, almost screeching. Eyes angry and lips pouty.

He wanted nothing more but to show her what bad behaviour would give her, but seeing how punishment would be giving her what she had requested, he wasn’t too quick to fold to his desires.

“It feels like I’m dying, make me feel something, anything…”

She was pleading he realized, and stopped in wonder at the revelation.

She was pleading with him, begging for him, for anything of him, anything meaning anything…

Yet… surely not what he wanted it to mean.

“No.” He forced on a nonchalant tone. “You smashed my controller, I’m not rewarding you for that, there are nicer ways of asking…” He drawled and turned casually to get back in his chair, pondering his need to purchase another custom-made console, thinking he had a couple things he wanted to fix anyway.

Was she really going to have to be so literal? Was she really going to have to bend over and beg for him to take her? Was she really going to have to serve him her heart, her spirit, her mind, and soul and body on a silver platter for him to take it?

She thought he was greedy. She thought he was depraved enough to hear what she was asking of him.

No way he was ignoring the invitation, right?

If that were the case, he could at least mock her for her begging, but he barely seemed to even recognise her change in attitude at all. Granted, she couldn’t really see much of his expression beneath that mop of hair.

She wanted to scream, pull her hair out of her head, yet as her knees hit the floor and Tomura sat back down in his chair, she realized she had but one thing to do.

Crawl.

She was silent, shuffling under the table, taking one gluttonous drag through her nose, mouth watering at the reek of male musk, his musk, Tomura’s musk, a smell so undeniably him.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to let him know she was there yet, but decided to be a tease and better prepare him for what she was about to do.

Experienced and confident fingers pressed a woman’s touch to his ankles, running skilled tender touches over the flexing of his calves’ muscles, despite feeling him tense beneath her. Undiscouraged as they went smoothly over his thighs to reach the hem of his boxers, reaching inside them to pull out what she was proud to feel thick and stiff and just as needy as her, warm and pulsating in her tiny palm.

Handling him delicately. First she licked her lips wet and gave the head a pretty popping kiss, before producing her tongue like a pillow for the cap and flicking the pink muscle from side to side under the sensitive skin that was already oozing with precum onto her tastebuds.

She her his breath stifle, but allowed him no rest as she closed her warm wet mouth around him.

He broke instantly.

Now knowing it wasn’t his mind playing tricks.

“Fuck! You win, you win!” He hissed, hand wrapping around her throat to pull her up from her conquering. “If I’d known what a needy little slut you were I'd have given you cock earlier. You should’ve just said so...”

They both giggled ludically as he threw her down on the bed, Thrill already bubbling up a storm on her insides with such lust to be fucked out of her bloody mind she was quaking from head to toe and screaming out her moan when he pushed perfectly into her wetness in one fell swoop.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

-NECESSITY

He heard the padding of her approach. Soft footed and gentle. Not at all like how she would usually stomp around in rage of being trapped.

He didn’t look up at first, thinking she didn’t want anything to do with him, as per usual, yet in his blurry unfocused vision he could spot she’d stopped in front of him, waiting for his acknowledgement, where he sat on the coach, undisturbed and undisturbing until now, scrolling through his phone.

He decided to ignore her, testing to see if she’d speak up and announce her demands, yet was surprised to see she stood there patiently, no words, no screams.

Curiosity getting the better of him he looked up, finding her standing there bare-footed, skin wet, towel wrapped around her, hair dripping, eyes leaking, though not from shower-water, but from brimming with tears.

His instincts kicked in then at the sight of her.

“Are you okay?”

He sprung from the coach, expecting her to push him away once he reached for her, yet was surprised to feel her attach to him, latch around him, welcome his warmth and his offered condolence instead of her usual rejection and snarling.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, why are you crying?”

He realized then that her body was quaking, seemingly febrile, so much plead knotted between her brows he’d never seen anything like it.

It made him concerned to say the least, eyes searching her body for any possible explanation in the form of bruises, thinking maybe she’d hurt herself, already scolding himself for having left her alone.

“Baby? What's going-”

He didn’t smell it at first, what with the scent being washed off and all at the hands of her shower, but the aroma was soon layered thick in the room, growing alongside her desperation.

A scent so heavenly, so lavish and sweet and ambrosial, already making water pool in his mouth.

Her shaking made sense then, so did the tears, and the desperation and the potent adorable look of despair written all over her pitiful little cute face.

“Oh… I see.”

He was going to take advantage of this.

He was going to ring it for every drop it was worth.

“Does my little angel need me?” His voice shed its concern swiftly, curling into something sweetly sadistic and salacious.

His fingers hung onto her chin, or rather, her chin hung off his fingers.

“If you ask nicely perhaps I’ll-”

“You’re being cruel.” She stated, voice so sweet, so vulnerable, breaking as she sniffled, bottom lip trembling so preciously, as he wasn’t sure the shower-water was instead not indeed sweat. Knees weak, arms heavy, head pounding, stomach hurting, eating her from the inside in desperate need to feed the bottomless hunger that was growing and weeping in her lower abdomen.

Her hand held loosely over her stomach, visibly shaking.

He ignored her statement. “That was a long shower…” It was an insinuating observation, cocky in its nature. “Were you trying to help yourself on the showerhead?”

He quirked a brow at him, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth.

“Trying to get out of grovelling for me, hm? Despite knowing how my cock is the only thing that can save you.”

He was gleeful, sadistic bliss tickling through his body, sending pleasure through every nerve, because he knew, he knew he was right and he knew what was coming. He knew she would fold, surrender, succumb, and he knew how grateful she’d be afterwards, dripping with his cum, eyes opium-blown, euphoric and fluttering, and looking at him with such wholehearted, such won-over love.

Though, know all that filled her eyes were glistening tears and swirling suffering.

“It hurts…”

His heart clenched at that.

She looked like a toddler, small and weak and helpless and innocent, as though if it weren’t for her predicament she wouldn’t be abusing every ounce of energy in her being to make him miserable.

How ironic, she being the miserable one now, all dependent on him.

“It hurts, please, please help me, help me, Keigo.”

She was aching. Her small needy hands coming to grab at him, to pull him closer as she sobbed, whining so beautifully for him.

“I need you, Keigo.”

He was getting wrapped up in it, hanging onto every perfect needy jerking she did to try and get closer, to try and help herself against him, licking it up as though he was parched

And he was, he truly was, she’d drained him dry, rejecting each and every proclamation of his love. She’d laughed at it, waged war against it, and here she was, finally, embracing it, begging for it.

He realized, he needed this just as much as she did.

He didn’t need anything weightless like a stupid apology, he just needed to hear her say those pretty words.

“I need Hawks.”

Her eyes grew dark, pupils blown wide with lust as her words were laced with such feral carnality.

His hands grabbed ahold of her ample hips, grinding her into himself, where she met his attack by effortlessly maneuvering her legs to wrap around his torso, hands cupping his face as she peered into his eyes, wanting to drown herself in the gold.

“I need you deep inside me, filling me up, wreaking me…”

Her lips hovered above his own as she clutched tightly onto him, begging with every inch of her body, clinging to him as though it were for her very life.

“I need your cum, I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk or talk or think or feel, until I’m numb and all I can see is you, all I can think is you, all I am is you and yours.”

He was left awestruck by the way she looked at him, as though he were the world, or her god, with so much love and so much desperate desire and fear.

A fear he’d come to know all too much chasing her. A fear of rejection, a fear of having her heart broken, a feeling that’s all too much like dying.

“I need your love, please, please love me, Keigo.”

He couldn’t refuse, despite wanting to have used this opportunity as a lesson, he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her suffering and he most definitely couldn’t leave himself suffering now that his cock was hungry for the attention she was all too eager to give him.

SHINSO HITOSHI

-SUBMITANCE

She knew she should be disgusted, she knew she should be angry, she should be fighting it.

If she were the feral creature quite alike the lioness or tigress or any other wild cat, she should by law be scratching and clawing and snarling. She should revolt, reject, uproar at the feel of a collar around her throat.

But here she was, big wide glossy opium-soaked eyes staring up at her Master and his compelling lilac orbs, feeling her stomach curl at the feel of his big fist tugging her leash as he hovers above her, purring like a little kitten, like the little kitten she was, at the feel of his swollen thick cock filling her up so snuggly, breeding her good, while she drools at the collar put, not just on her throat, but on her mind, panting over the thought of having his commands lick every nerve of her body, making her twist and bend and bow all to his wishes.

Fluffy tail wrapped around his leg, holding onto him in the softest form of embrace as her hands are otherwise occupied with being tied to the bed-post.

She whimpered, aching fingers wanting to touch, to run smooth soft fingertips over his skin, his scars, tangle in his wild lavish purple locks.

She bit her lip and clenched around the member inside her, making him groan as he bottomed-out and pulled back again.

“Could- could Master… untie me?” She needed to ask, voice timid and hopeful, again feeling him slowly inch into her core, messaging her insides, her walls kissing alongside his girth, sucking on him gratefully.

He quirked an eyebrow, as if to ask why, or to tell her why he couldn’t do that.

“I want to touch you…” She pleaded, a confession so sweet and voice anything but brazen or wanton, blinking shamefully, guilty of her lust, even though in the light of what he’d done to her and made her do to him, it sounded like mere child’s play, something she shouldn’t even be allowed to be embarrassed about.

His eyes scanned her, curious, doubting her, yet having felt how her legs wrapped around his torso, and the ever-playful cuddling tail that had slithered between his thighs and latched itself around his ankle, tugging on him like such a clingy little devoted kitty.

His lips curled up into a smile, looking down at his little bashful housebroken pet, thrilled to see her look up at him too, eyes full of awe on both sides, lustful, loving.

He pushed himself fully into her, cockhead kissing her cervix, and she gave a mew, moaning while he bowed down to meet her lips with his.

His hands danced up her arms, drumming alongside her limbs before they met with the knots around her wrists, tugging them loose.

Once she was free she hesitated. Eyes still so wide, as though asking for permission, as though asking for guidance, or… as though she were waiting for him to tell her what to do, and then, as though a question was burning at her lips.

“Master… ask me a question?” She requested, slowly bringing her hands down from their position, placing them around the back of his neck, fingers playing with his soft wild hair.

He needed to take a second or two to really fathom what she’d just said, where his mind seemed to leap once he did.

“Something you don’t want the answer to.”

He swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling a rush of blood pool in his cheeks. His breathe grew heavy and eyes intense.

“Do you know what you’re asking?”

He needed to be sure, he needed to hear her say it, admit to it

His doubts were answered as she blinked, biting her lips, looking away shyly, clearly knowing how wrong it was of her to request him entering and playing with her mind like that.

“Yes…”

He couldn’t help but smile at her timidity, how she blushed under his gaze. But still, he needed her to give him the entirety of her desire.

“Tell me…”

He rested his forehead on her hers, happy with butterflies in his stomach at the feel of her affectionate hands running through his locks.

“What do you want from me, Kitten?”

Her breath shuddered, legs climbing higher up his back, pulling him closer. Their eyes so adamant on looking, drowning in the other. His storm of lilac so dominant and dangerous, making her mouth water and toes curl and head flutter with knowing how she was completely trapped, completely where he wanted her, loving it all the same, finding refuge in the fact, finding safety and belonging and peace.

“I want…”

Her eyes where only wide, wide with hope and searching for if he’d catch her when she now jumped, leaped into his arms.

“I want you. I want your- your teeth in my mind, marking me, making me yours, making me… feel…”

All of her was clinging to him now, her tail so neatly and snuggly slithered around his ankle, as though chaining him to her, her hands as well entangled with the unruly hair at the nape of his neck, her legs wrapped around him so tightly and desperately, pussy clenching around his cock like a vice, and her eyes hanging off of all and everything of what was giving her.

“Making you feel what?” He pushed, giving another thrust where he barely pulled out only to rock into her again.

“Safe.”

That was such an innocent word, such a sweet wish it made his heart hurt with something he couldn’t quite place, whether it was guilt or satisfaction he couldn’t tell.

“Will you do that? For me?”

He could get lost in those eyes of hers forever, those moon-big round eyes, opium-black and blown pupils so wide he thought he was falling through space with how much they reflected the limited light inside their room.

“Do you love me?” He asked then, fearing the answer.

“Yes.”

A word can be so many things, a vow, a promise, an echo, a welcome.

Her eyes went blank then, but not before she gave the softest hum as though to say thank you as she felt his presence seep into her mind. Her limbs losing all types of stress, becoming numb and soft. All her worries blanketed, where all she dreamt of was velvet lilac-tinted oceans, getting drunk on grapes and the smell of lavender and all things purple like those great godlike eyes staring down at her, the ones keeping her spellbound and tethered in a deadlock, the ones she belonged to.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

-COMFORT

The slamming shut of the apartment door, followed by the digital clicking of the lock being closed is how she knew he was home.

He hadn’t said anything.

Where usually he would at least greet her as she quickly sprung across the marble floors to welcome him home, take his jacket, kiss his cheek, all so perfectly like he’d taught her.

He hadn’t said anything.

No ‘I missed you’ or ‘thank you, princess’.

He hadn’t said anything at all.

But most things with Kai weren’t verbal anyway.

She’d learned to pick up cues, analyze a raised brow, or a slight shift in posture, or the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes.

He hadn’t said anything, but the scowl that accompanied his aura spoke volumes to the girl. Finding his state of mind, concerned with what she found, as it was not his usual nonchalance nor his occasional contempt, but bitter.

He groaned then, once she’d helped him out of his jacket, green and tacky, purple faux fluff, something so out-of-place on Kai, yet also serving as one of his key recognizable traits.

He kicked off his shoes, also something so very out of character it brought her concern, followed by him shuffling, feet dragging on the floors in complete opposition to how he would usually walk, with his head held high, regarding the floor as though it should be grateful to be gifted by him walking on it.

Now though, he slumped, still without a word, up the stairs, sauntering without haste, without enthusiasm, all in goal of reaching the bed, which he laid out flat on once he got to it.

“Are you okay?” She asked timidly, having followed him and standing unsurely on the threshold of the door, not knowing whether she was welcome or not.

He simply pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, giving her the answer she’d guessed already.

“Can I do anything to help?” Again, she kept her voice soft and tender, hopeful; cheerful in hopes of cheering him up.

“I doubt it.” His answer was curt and bitter as he sat up on the bed, tugging loose his tie with an exhausted growl of irritation.

She padded around the bed then, not exactly having been given an invitation to stay, but not exactly having been given any indication to leave either.

Careful as she climbed up behind him, like a cat easing in on its prey, gracious and soft and focused on not alarming or disturbing the goal.

“Surely there must be something I can do?”

His ears picked up on the play in her voice, the thin hairs at the back of his neck rising, yet his curiosity was stifled as her hands, once so small and insignificant, became the hands of God.

Fingers kneading into his back, thorough and forceful yet welcomed by him through a breathy guttural groan, closing his eyes with much needed rest as he let himself fall completely to the feeling of her messaging all his tense stress right out of his shoulders, seemingly sucking all the bad out of him.

He gave yet another throaty groan as her fingers rubbed and dug into his back, her hand stopping his head from slugging forward, cupping him tenderly and guided him to rest against the softness of her chest instead.

“Do you feel better now?”

She spoke like how a mother should, sweet like summer breeze, just above a whisper, eager to please, affectionate, without ill-will, without anything to gain, selfless and beautiful, and something he was in desperate need of.

He moaned, a long dragged out breathy moan, one filled with such potent gratitude it made her smile.

“Getting there...”

She hummed, her hands like absolution handling his back like dough, thumbs rubbing the stiffness into tender soft flesh once again, working through the knots, before climbing, mounting his shoulders and ensnaring his neck, gentle fingers running smoothly to unbutton his shirt, her face nuzzling in his neck as it was exposed to her, soft plump lips kissing the sensitive skin found there, knowing exactly where to focus, hearing him moan in relief as she zeroed in on his soft-spot.

Her hands running, dancing down his chest, unbuttoning the last of his buttons, helping him slide out of it.

Quick to take her bra off, still while kissing his neck, before pushing her warm soft mounds into his back, hugging herself against him.

“How about now?” Her voice like honey as her words tickled on his neck.

“Almost…”

She slithered around to seat herself in his lap, hands cupping his cheeks as she leaned in to kiss him, naked chest rubbing up against naked chest, warm and soft, homey and safe. 

Her hand drummed playfully down his stomach, reaching his pants, moving skillfully on its own to undo the belt-buckle, then the button, then pulling down the zipper.

He shuffled them down his thighs on his own, still keeping his chin lifted to receive her kisses. His clothed erection bumping up into the thin protection of her panties.

Her hand, still so smoothly, reached under the band of his boxers to pull him out. Though his rough way of ripping her lacy underwear off managed to break through her calm demeanor as she yelped a bit and flinched.

However the surprise was quickly followed by giggles as she continued to kiss him, feeling his smirk against her lips and soon his hand cupping her ass before running hungry pressured fingertips around her thigh to play with her slit, thumb roughly pushing into her clit as other reckless digits ran though her folds to test the waters, quite parallel to how carefully she handled his cock with her own elegant hand, rubbing him up and down ever so gently, with the tenderness he carved.

He hissed once her thumb rubbed over his sensitive head, biting into her lip, and though his beastly impulses used to alarm her, now she could only think of them as an invitation.

Holding his cock up to her entrance, giving him time to remove his fingers from her now soaking folds. 

She sunk down on him slowly, moaning softly against his lips as he groaned upon hers. 

“Better now?” She asked, without giving way to the cockiness her question carried, but he deciphered it with ease nonetheless, giving her ass a playful squeeze before guiding her to lay down on her back, nibbling on her neck as he chuckled at how she disguised her devilish naughty humour as being innocent, wanting to make her choke on that haughtiness as he gave a quick sharp thrust up into her.

Her moan rung throughout the massive penthouse where no doors were kept closed, as he licked the sin right off her expression with one needy hungry kiss and a promise as well as a threat.

“I will be once I hear you scream my name, princess.”

TIP-JAR

[blownbybakugou]

Kinktober Day 1

Kink: Dacryphilia

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: FEMALE!Reader, Darcyphilia, dub-con, praises, toxic traits, stockholm syndrome,  hints at corruption kink, gagging, blindfold, yandere, praise kink, Unprotected sex, spanking.

Word Count:1.1k

The ropes were tight against you wrists, which had scars from your prior attempts to escape and the blindfold on your eyes was becoming uncomfortable, no matter how used to it’s rough texture you were. The loud creak of the big metal door echoed throughout the room, making you jump in surprise and joy. A muffled purr left your mouth, and you could tell from his quickening in pace that he was satisfied with the reaction. He lifted the black rag from your eyes with care, seeing your eyes light up with excitement. “You look happy to see me.” He chuckled, moving to release the gag that was tied to the back of your head. The drool that had gathered at the corners of your mouth dragged along with the saliva covered ball, making the bright red shine from the florescent light above you. “Hm, my precious little girl. Let’s see how much you missed me, shall we?” Dabi kneels down to gently move your thighs apart from each other. Taking his time, he grazes his palm along your abdomen, then sliding away from where you needed to be touched and massaging your hip. He moves his way down your exposed legs, caressing every part of you before pushing his way back up. You shiver in delight when he runs his calloused fingers over your sensitive inner thighs, and then swipes them up your slit to feel your wetness. The juices he had collected on his fingertips dripped onto the cold concrete floors, his smirk making you flush in embarrassment. “Seems like my pretty doll needs some attention. If you’re good, I’ll loosen the ropes, if you’re bad...punishment.”  You nod in agreement, squirming in your seat at the thought of his punishments. Dabi slowly unbuckles his pants, looking you in the eye while he does so, just to watch your pathetic expression of want. He lets his trousers drop to the floor, and the mere sight of his cock straining against his tight boxers had you opening your mouth, your tongue awaiting and welcoming his hefty length. Stepping towards you, Dabi knelt down to your level once more, this time petting your hair and running his long fingers through the strands. “My pretty little whore. You’ve been so good for me.” Reaching behind your chair, he unties the binds holding you and the moment he does, you whip your arms around his neck and hold him to your chest. “I missed you too, doll.” He chuckles, lifting you from the chair and setting his hands on your bare ass to hold you up. Dabi’s shirt was rough against your nipples, a moan erupting from your throat when he shifts to rub against you. “Oh? You sensitive there doll?” Relying on his other arm to hold you up, he brought his right and to pull against one of your pert buds, watching you squeal in pleasure. “You should tell me where you want me to touch you, doll. I guess this deserves a punishment.” You shake your head at the claim, tears welling at the edges of your eyes. “Don’t worry about it doll. You’ll take it like the good girl you are, right?” Shivering, you let him bend you over the chair you were once seated in and the tears that were once in your eyes were falling on the bottom of your armchair. Dabi stops moving momentarily just to watch the involuntary liquid drip from your optics. His dick throbs at the sight of it and he nearly sends you flying with the force of the spank he gave you. Screaming, more tears fall from your orbs, and the tears make a quiet patter against the metal of the chair. “I’m sorry master, I won’t do it again! I’ll tell you next time I promise!” Your shrills only egged him on, slapping your round ass once again with a sadistic grin. Dabi ignored all your pleas and promises, continuing to batter your now raw rear, feeling insatiable and greedy for your tears. His eyes dart to your leaky cunt, and how it gushes and twitched with need. “You want my cock, doll?” Dabi hummed, pressing two digits against your weeping slit. “Yes! Yes please master!” You yipped, pushing yourself back against his fingers hoping he’d enter you. Pulling his hand away, he palmed himself through his underwear while looking at your puffy eyes, and he silently wondered how much of his cock you could take before bursting into tears once more. Pulling his dick out of it’s confines, he tapped your sore ass with the tip before lowering it to your drenched hole and prodding against it, just to watch you buck your hips back pathetically. You looked so desperate for release, your pretty eyes beginning to water again, and your clit puffy and neglected, how could he resist? Snapping his hips forward, Dabi filled you with his searing hot cock, the tip just barely pressing against your cervix. The pressure in your stomach that had been built up from the mass amounts of spanking broke, your release soaking his dick and dripping down onto his balls. The overwhelming pleasure of it all made your eyes fill once again, a low groan coming from Dabi the instant he sees your watery eyes start to dribble down your tear stained cheeks. The last bit of Dabi’s self control shattered, and he started ruthlessly pounding into your sloppy pussy, he wanted to see you cry harder, he wanted to see you beg for another orgasm. He looks down at where you were connected and watched your cum drip onto the cold floor, right next to his black boots. “My perfect little cumdump. You ready for my load?” Dabi asks, giving another harsh slap to your ass, seeing more of your tears fall to the bottom of the seat. “Y-Yes master!” Your wobbly voice set him into a pleasure driven frenzy, ramming his pulsating cock into you harder before burying himself as deep as he could go and letting his load spurt into your depths. He lifted you limp and aching body to sit in the chair, but this time he didn’t tie the ropes. “The...ropes..” You pant, eyes fluttering in exhaustion. “You’ve been a good girl today, I think you’ve earned a warm meal and a night without the ropes.” Your heart skips a beat at the kind gesture, and even with the circumstances of how you got here, you knew you loved this man with all your being. And you would do anything to prove that to him.

[seiyasabi]

Enceinte

(This is a Yandere Amajiki x Pregnant Female Reader story :)) Please proceed with caution!

TW: Stockholm syndrome!, mentions of abuse! (not you), mentions of dub/noncon! (not you), !mentions of unsafe abortion! (not you), pregnancy!, !!!mentions of a suicide attempt!!!! (not you), captivity!, !lactation kink!, !breast milk drinking!, no sex but NSFW themes!, etc..

I hope you guys like this!) 

Tamaki’s large hand rubs your back soothingly, attempting to alleviate your current backache. He’s taken you on a ‘playdate’ with his friend’s darling, and the four of you are sitting in the jovial blond’s living room. 

“Everytime we see her, she just keeps getting bigger and bigger!” Mirio cheers, “How far along is she now?” He talks about you as if you aren’t there, causing you and your previously unwanted husband to become uncomfortable. The blond is definitely not a Yandere anyone would want; he’s controlling, sadistic, misogynistic, entitled-all things you’re happy that your Amajiki isn’t. It’s just another reason why you gave into him a year ago. 

“Mirio, pl-please don’t talk about (Your Name) like she isn’t here. You know it makes me uncomfortable,” The brawny man’s eyes flash with a dark emotion, causing you to lean in closer to the indigo haired man’s side. His friend scares you, and you can’t help but pray for his darling. The poor girl is always covered with bruises, littered with painful gashes, and just the thought of your friend being hurt by that monster brings a tear to your (colour) eyes. 

“Ah, it seems I forgot. Sorry Ama,” Your husband freezes up with further discomfort at his best friend’s use of your nickname. His blue eyes land on your rigid form, a small smirk on his thin lips, “How far along are you, (Nickname)?”

Your left hand is on your round stomach, your son kicking lightly at your touch, “We’re about seven months! I’m set to give birth in a few months,” A small smile is on your lips at the thought of your future child. Amajiki’s free hand places itself on top of yours, causing you to look up and give him a full on grin. Seeing that he was smiling at you as well, you place your head on his shoulder. He always knows how to make you feel better. 

“See, (Friend’s Name)? This could be us if you weren’t so stubborn,” Your husband interlaces your fingers together, squeezing reassuringly. He knows that his friend’s actions are somewhat triggering, especially because you know the things he’s done. Mirio lets out a wicked laugh, looking at the both of you with cruel eyes, “(Friend Name) here and I were pregnant a few months ago, after a long night of love-making,” Amajiki holds you even tighter, trying to stop your terror-filled shakes, “But someone was selfish. Someone decided to take a handful of pills, and now your mini Tamaki won’t have a friend. But don’t worry,” His large hands grip your friend’s thigh harshly, “We’ll try again. That’s the point of women, eh, Amajiki? Our own personal baby-makers?” 

Your teary eyes find (Friend’s Name)’s, your hand covering your mouth. You hadn’t seen her for a month, and you now know why. You also now know why her hands are covered with mittens, why her throat is wrapped with a shock collar, why she-

Tamaki stands up quickly, his hands gently guiding you onto your swollen feet. He wraps a protective arm around your waist once you’re fully standing, and he starts to guide you to Mirio’s yellow front door, “Ah, I-I think it-it’s time we go home. (Your Name) i-is sleepy, so-”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy! I totally understand. After all, good Darlings get nice privileges, and (Your Name) is one of the best Darlings I’ve ever met. She knows her place,” He stands to his feet, standing a good five inches above your very tall husband, “Come on, (Friend’s Name), let’s walk them out.”

The (Hair colour) girl struggles to her feet, her broken foot in a boot. She hobbles to the door in her house-wife esque frock, drawing a laugh from the sunny man. The sight hurts your heart so bad, that you have to look away. 

Once the other couple reach their front door, Mirio draws a large keyring filled to the brim with different coloured keys from his pocket, before inserting each one into the ten locks present on the painted wood. Once all are unclasped, he holds the door open with a boot clad foot. 

“You two have a good day! I’m sorry for (Friend’s Name)’s behaviour, I’ll be sure to straighten her out once you leave,” You hear her barely muffle a sob, making your lip quiver with your own sobs. Once outside, you hear the door slam shut, and hear a series of locking mechanisms go into place. 

“He’s gotten worse,” You hear Amajiki mutter, which is enough to send you into a breakdown. His muscular arms wrap you in a tight side hug, his own tears dripping onto your (hair/head). 

You cry for your friend and the person she once was. 

He cries at the monster his best friend has become. 

-

Tamaki was right, you ended up taking a nap the moment you got home. 

When you awoke, your back hurts even more than before, along with your milk filled tits. Massaging your sore chest, you sit up with a bit of trouble. At your last appointment, your doctor said your son was a big fella, and cautioned you against doing anything besides resting. This caused the already doting Amajiki to take up every chore and task you have. 

Right now, you can hear and smell him cooking your favourite meal, causing you to stand onto your wobbly feet. With one hand on your tummy and one on your back, you waddle towards your personal chef of a husband.

He’s currently leaning against the grey granite counter across from the stove, and when he sees your form struggling towards him, he rushes into action. Tamaki quickly sweeps you off of your feet, and brings you to your kotatsu couch. Gently placing you onto your preferred spot, he helps you place a few pillows behind you to help give you better back support. 

“Bunny, what are you doing out of bed? You could’ve hurt yourself,” He’s improved on his nervous stutter since you’ve fallen for him, warming your heart completely. 

“I’m sorry, Ama. I woke up with a backache and wanted a massage, but then I got hungry-” He loves listening to you ramble, you’re the most precious person he’s ever known. Especially when you ‘talk’ to your son. Sometimes he’d listen in and hear you coo about the cute outfits you found for him, or how his Daddy is a super cool hero, or how you can’t wait for him to come out so you can pinch his chubby cheeks, or- “Are you even listening?” He glances up, taking in your adorable pout, causing his face to go red. 

“Of course! I’ll give you a backrub after dinner, okay? Then we can take a shower,” You nod, allowing him to hurry to the kitchen to grab your food and utensils. 

He comes back at a lightning fast pace, he uses a few tentacles to juggle the (bowls/plates) along with the (chopstick/spoons/forks), side dishes, and toppings. 

“Go ahead and eat, okay? I’m sure you and (Son Name) are starving,” Giggling at his overeagerness, you give in to his demand. 

-

“-Is this pressure good? Let me know if it’s not,” Amajiki’s massive hands knead your aching shoulders, and rub down your pained spine. His thumbs massage the area around your ribs, trying to loosen your muscles to allow you to relax. You’re currently shirtless, clad in only your bra and your comfortable joggers.

“Mhm, you always know how to make me feel better, Ama,” He practically preens at your words, smooching the bare skin of your upper back. 

The massage continues, easing the pain in your back. Now, the only thing ailing you is your sore breasts. 

“A-are you okay, Bunny? You tensed up quite a bit,” You turn your head enough for him to see your comforting smile. 

“Yes, I’m okay. It’s just, uhm, oh man, this is so embarrassing,” Both of your hands cover your face to hide your flushing cheeks, sending Tamaki into a mini panic attack. 

“What is it? Is the baby giving you trouble? Do I need to take you to the hospital?” Seeing his panic, you try to turn to face him, but require his assistance to do so. His clammy hands grip yours as he brings you toward him. 

“No, Tama, it’s nothing serious, it’s just…” You look down in shame, “My, uhm, my breasts hurt,” Your voice trails off at the end, causing your husband not to hear you. 

“Wha-what was that?” Small tears group in your eyes, as your shame overwhelms you. 

“My boobs hurt! Please don’t make fun of me by making me ask again!” Seeing your distress, he quickly brings you into his embrace. 

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you the first time, I swear! I’ll help you, Bun, there’s no need to cry. Here,” The indigo haired man unclasps your bra, allowing your tits to fall out somewhat harshly. Yelping at the ache, Tamaki tries to soothe you by holding your larger breasts up, alleviating the pain, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” You smooch his forehead, his entire face is bright red, “Please help me, I need you,” Your wet eyes and much larger breasts make your husband look away, trying not to become aroused. 

“Oh-okay,” His warm hands gently squeeze your teats, testing to see if that was enough pressure. A small moan leaves your lips, telling him that what he’s doing is helping. 

His hands knead your sensitive chest in a rhythmic fashion, slowly quelling the pain you were once suffering. 

Just when you fully relaxed, disaster struck. 

Two streams of thick milk spray from your teats, coating the front of his black shirt. You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. 

“I’m sorry Ama! I-I didn’t mean to! It just-” Without missing a beat, the indigo haired man suddenly latches on to your nipple. His lips suck vigorously, trying to drink all of your yummy milk in one go. A loud moan leaves your lips, as you try to detach him from your leaking tit, “Wha-what are you doing?” A keen escapes your throat when he tweaks your other nipple, dripping your milk onto your joggers. His own moans vibrate against you, sending a flash of arousal to your pussy. 

Once he has his fill of your right breasts, he lets go with a small gasp, “Do-do you feel better Bun-Bun?” Now that you thought about it, yes, yes you do. So, you nod your head, mouth slightly agape. 

“Please, ‘Jiki! Please milk my other titty too!” He doesn’t say anything, before he latches on to your left nipple. Whilst he sucks, he lets his tongue flick your leaky teat, triggering a little more milk to spray out. You both moan, one of you in absolute lust, and the other in relief. The heavy, aching feeling of your breasts slowly fades away, leaving you feeling light and happy. 

Your hand runs through his soft locks, a sigh of pleasure going through your nose, “Thank you, Ama, you’re so good to me. I’m sorry if it doesn’t taste good-” He quickly releases your left nipple to kiss you on the lips. 

“Your milk is delicious, Bunny. I don’t think I can ever go back to cow’s milk ever again!” He fondles your enlarged chest, playing with your sensitive nipples, “I love you so much, (Your Name). Is it okay if I nurse with our son?”

You flush at his words, “Bu-but my milk’s for (Son’s Name), won’t he go hungry?” He shakes his head no, kissing you on the lips once more. 

“I asked your doctor for breast milk supplements, you’re going to have more milk than he’ll need! Please, Bunny! Please let me have more!” You can’t say no when he asks you so sweetly. Smiling at him, you nod. 

You know you should be upset that those ‘extra vitamins’ weren’t truly vitamins, but you can’t bring yourself to care. After all, he loves you so much that he wants to drink from you! 

So, when he reattaches himself to your right nipple, you pet him sweetly. 

[after-witch]

Baby Mine [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Baby Mine [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis:  The first time you laid eyes on your child, you knew: You had to get out. Set in the ‘White Picket Fence’-verse. 

For request: Something with Overhaul + the reader’s children and manipulation (I’m sorry I accidentally deleted the original message so I don’t remember the exacting wording!)

Word Count: 3328

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, abuse

From the instant you laid eyes on your daughter, the moment your gaze took in her fresh, wet skin and her small, blinking, uncomprehending eyes, you knew: you had to get the fuck away from Chisaki Kai.

The realization was instant, like a flash, peeling away years of manipulation and training and forced self-acceptance of your situation. Years of justifications and excuses that had wormed their way under your skin, forcing you to see the bright side, to see his side, and let yourself get wrapped up in its candy-coated, fluffy cotton bullshit--gone, ripped away with brutal, exacting force. All that was left was the stark realization, a single driving force shoving you forward: you and your daughter were going to get out.

That was four years ago.

Four years of agonizing pretending. Of forcing yourself to put back on the coat you'd worn before, the false version of yourself that loved him and accepted him and excused everything he ever did to you. It was hard. It was harder to pretend that you accepted this than to actually accept it, to indulge in his control. But every time your resolve weakened, it only took a glance at your child to remind you of why you couldn't just give in.

You had to get out, not for yourself, but for her. To give her a normal life. A life where she could be free, where she could have friends, where she could run outside and not be limited to the house or, if the weather was nice, the secure, high-fenced backyard that Kai had only built within the last year.

Four years of pretending. Four years of planning. And, most difficult of all, four years of waiting. Trust was not easily given by Chisaki Kai, even to the mother of his child.

So you waited.

You waited for Kai to move you two--no, three now--into a house, a real house; not in a populated suburb (another broken promise that you swallowed deep, deep down) but an offshoot of some protected compound in a remote area, where it could be secure and guarded. But what mattered is that its doors connected to the outside, not to some unknown underground bunker.  You could manage, if you were connected to the outside.

You waited for Kai to ease up on the restrictions that built up around you during your pregnancy, rules to keep you under a far more watchful eye, rules that made it harder to find a way out. Inches of trust, gradually earned, which made it possible for you to think concretely about escape.

You waited for your daughter to get old enough to run, old enough to survive without needing to be fed every few hours, old enough to know how to stay quiet when told. Watching her grow up only made you want to leave, more. She had a personality now. Stubborn but accepting when she knew she wouldn’t win; sweet in her own way, an unusual way, likely one that came from a lack of interaction with anyone but her parents and a handful of trusted Shie Hassaikai members.

It was one of those trusted members--you never have learned their name, a secret Kai (nor they) were willing to give--that would be your key to escape.

 They loved your daughter, too, in time. They were drawn in by her precociousness, her insistence on formalities and pleases and thank-yous. But it was her bubbliness and inherent interest in the world and people around her that made them decide to love her, too.Her big eyes and bubbling laugh when you two were allowed in the yard, sometimes under this member’s supervision. 

To your daughter’s delight, they didn’t simply watch you like the handful of others did; they joined in the fun. Just a few weeks ago, she’d convinced him to push her so high on the swing set that she’d gone all the way around--even your heart briefly froze until she’d emerged on the other side, cackling with delight, safe and sound.

They were loyal to Overhaul. Of that there was no doubt. Had they killed for him? Maimed? Tortured? You tried not to think about the things that were done in Overhaul’s name.

Yet they’d betrayed him, all for the sake of your daughter. Part of you feels bitter that they wouldn’t betray him for the sake of you--but then, what was that saying? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was with their help that you were finally able to secure that last necessary piece of the puzzle for your escape: getting out of the secured, monitored gate surrounding the house unnoticed. He told you in hushed, intense tones that he would be on watch duty the night of your escape, that he would take care of the other member assigned that night, and that all you had to do was get out the door at the agreed time with your bag, your daughter, and a good pair of walking shoes. He would drive you as far as he could, and then you two would run, run, run after that.

It was going to work. Your daughter was going to live her life, a real life, not one carefully constructed in captivity. What would you do first, once you were free? The thoughts sometimes made you so giddy that you pinched yourself to calm down. So close, so close to the finish line, and you must be vigilant.

Tonight. You and your daughter are going to leave tonight.

Your daughter is in her bed, tucked in safe and secure. Her eyes are already closed, and Kai is sitting at the edge of the mattress, as always, smoothing down her hair and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. You watch from the doorway with your arms casually crossed, a small, tired, end-of-the-night smile on your lips. It's all so normal, so domestic, isn't it.

"Good night," he says, so soft and sweet that, if you hadn't been pulled out of your deluded coping mechanism, you might find it endearing. Instead, your thoughts scream: This will be the last time you ever see her, you fucked up piece of shit bastard. Oh, do you have a potty mouth when your 'husband' can't hear you...

He leaves your daughter to her dreams and clicks off the little lamp on her nightstand. When he crosses the doorway, you make room and he lets you slide your arm around his, linking yourselves together for the walk to your shared bedroom.

"Tired?" He asks, and you nod. You are tired. Not for the reasons he thinks, and not for the reasons you'll give, but the telltale darkness under your eyes belies the stress of planning your escape from a years-long ordeal.

You sigh, as soft and sweet as his voice was earlier. "Mmhmm. She didn't want to focus on her lessons today. I got a bit frustrated. Sometimes I don't think I'm cut out to be a teacher." By now you're in your bedroom and you casually take off your day clothes, dropping them in the labeled hamper in front of the closet. Your stomach twinges with the memory of how he used to look away when you took off your clothes.

But that was long ago, and now he continues the conversation casually as the pair of you strip and change into your respective pajamas. You slip a pink nightie with ruffled bottom over your head as he

"You just need more practice. Are you reading the lesson books before you start class?"

I wouldn't have to read any lesson books if you let her out of this house, if you let her out of school, if you weren't--you stop your thoughts, afraid that they might show on your face. Afraid that you might lose everything at this last, crucial moment.

But you know you look frustrated, so you roll with it. "Yes," you say, voice just the right amount of annoyed in retort. "But if she doesn't want to sit down and focus, me reading the lesson beforehand isn't really going to help, is it?"

He stares at you, and you wonder in a flash if you went too far. But in the next moment, he's simply continuing to button up his shirt. "Is it going to help our daughter learn if you take out your bad day on your husband?" His voice is dripping with the natural condescension that once had you questioning whether or not it was okay to be upset that he'd kidnapped you, and you hate it. But at least it's a sign that he bought your excuses.

You feel a warm flush of shame at the way his condescension still makes you feel less-than. You slide yourself into bed, under the covers, instinctively grabbing the book on your end table and staring down into it like you could simply disappear inside the pages. You can't mess up anything right now. The weight of what you need to do tonight feels so heavy and you can't stop your hands from trembling slightly.

"Sorry," you whisper, voice thick with emotion. "It's just hard sometimes. I feel in over my head."

It's Kai's turn to slide under the covers, though he doesn't bother grabbing his own book. Instead he gently pushes on your hands until you set the book on the covers. You know he wants you to look at him, so you do. He looks so gentle, so calm. Did he kill anyone today? Did he insult some hapless victim who crossed his organization, spewing venom with his words, before kissing your daughter goodnight hours later?

His gloved hands tip your chin up and it's a familiar feeling, an intimate feeling, when he pulls you in for a kiss. When he pulls away, he's smiling softly, indulgently. You aren't in trouble. You're good.

"I'll come home for lessons tomorrow and see what I can do. Would you like that?"

I'd like you to drop dead and make this easier on us, you think.

"Yes, Kai."

You smile. You nod. You let out a shaky sigh and lean your shoulders against his, picking up your book and signaling an end to the crisis. He lets you read quietly for a while before turning off the lamp on his side of the bed; it's a wordless signal that you already know: time to sleep. You're a dutiful wife and you put your book away and turn off your lamp and then turn back to your husband and whisper,

"Good night, Kai."

**

You wait until he's deep asleep to ease your way out of the bed. Every step you take in your padded socks makes you cringe. Will the floor creak? Will you make too much noise? Will you have to come up with a half-assed excuse as he comes to, groggily asking what you're doing? You feel like you can't breathe, but you do breathe, soft and shallow as you make your way to the bedroom door.

 You didn't dare keep anything related to your escape in your shared bedroom. The door feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as you ever-so-slowly open it, keeping your head turned towards the man sleeping on the bed all the while. He doesn't stir. He simply continues to snore, even as the door opens enough for you to slip out.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you cross the hallway and into the spare room that you used as a playroom and, lately, a makeshift school. The bag you packed is in the closet, tucked behind bags of school supplies that you'd asked Kai to pick up in order to make sure that your escape bag didn't stand out. You grab it swiftly, along with your daughter's outdoor shoes, and make your way to the most dangerous element of your escape: your daughter's room.

She did so well. You remind yourself to praise her once you're away from the house, once you're in a car and making noise isn't a life or death dilemma. You built up the idea of your escape bit by bit over the past few weeks. You couldn't tell her that her father was a monster who kidnapped you, but you could prey on her desire to see more, to go beyond the rules established in her father's domain.

Don't you want to meet other kids? Go to the beach, feel the sand underneath your feet? Meet... your grandma? We'll just take a secret trip, you and me, and then come back to Papa when we're done. Then he'll see that it's safe to leave and come with us next time. But you have to keep it a secret. You can't tell him a thing, or we won't be able to go. You can keep a secret, can't you?

You kneel next to your daughter's bed and gently wake her up, whispering her name and stroking her hair, so she slowly opens her eyes in confusion before her gaze lands on your face and ah, a smile--it's just mom.

"Mama?" She asks, a bit too loudly for your liking.

"Shh baby," you say. "Yes, it's mama. Are you ready to go?" You see the tentativeness, the childish confusion in the way she nods. She doesn't know what real life is yet, she doesn't have an inkling of the freedom that she's lost, but she will.

You don't bother changing. You have a pair of clothes in the bag and you'll change when you're in a safer space. For now, you take her hand and lead her down the staircase, your chest tightening with every step. You can't help but glance back at the still-open doorway leading to your bedroom. You pray to whatever is listening that he won't wake up. Each step is a step closer to freedom. Each step is a terrifying risk that you or she might slip, might make noise, might wake him up.

Your spirits lift when you reach the bottom of the stairs. All you have to do is get out the door and he'll be waiting there with the key and a getaway car and freedom.

You clutch your daughter's hand, your own palm now sweaty; you nearly trip on a toy you forgot to pick up earlier, but thankfully the light in the entryway was turned on (you must have forgotten to turn it off) and you see it just in time to avoid disaster. You squeeze your daughter hand and turn the corner that leads to the entryway of your home--

Where Chisaki Kai is standing, waiting for you, his eyes practically illuminated by the glowing lamp light.

You drop the bag.

"No," you say. "No." Your mind suddenly feels fuzzy, like its buzzing, drowning out all of your thoughts with a pure denial of what you see in front of you.

"How--how did you--" you sputter, unable to continue voicing your question. It was all planned. It was all practiced. You pretended, you waited, you planned--for four years. How? How did he know?

He doesn't have to answer. You know the moment that your daughter's grip slips out of your hand and she runs up to her father, feet thumping on the floor. She clings to his side and doesn't look at you, and he runs a hand through her hair without taking his eyes away from your shaking form.

Of course she told him. Of course she told her papa that you wanted to leave. She loved him. Why wouldn't she? It was all she'd ever known. You were breaking the rules, breaking the structure that dominated her life since she could remember. 

"Please don't be mad at me, mama." Your daughter whimpers against Kai, and you can hear the tears in her little voice, and your heart aches for her in so many ways.

"I'm not," you whisper. "I'm not mad at you, baby." You're just sad, so sad. It hurts. All of it.

"Sweetheart," Kai says, voice surprisingly calm despite the events, "go back to bed while I help your mother unpack your things, all right?"

Your daughter nods and suddenly she's against you, hugging you in a tight, childish way; you only have enough energy to pull your arm around her, limp and heavy, patting her back without really feeling it before she scampers up the stairs.

You're left alone. With him.

He approaches you slowly and you feel like an animal. There's wildness hammering in your heart and the thought comes up, unwillingly: could you still run? Escape on your own? And hope that some day, your daughter escapes and finds you? But the thought of leaving her behind is impossible to indulge in for more than a second, and you know that without her, your life isn't worth living. The thought of abandoning her to Kai Chisaki brings up an immediate sense of revulsion and guilt and shame.

"What were you thinking?"

You aren't looking at him, but you don't have to be looking at him to know that he's glaring at you. Looking down on you with his gaze filled with righteous justifications. You glance and--yes, he is, but there's something darker, something you’d forgotten, underneath. Your stomach suddenly feels loaded with weights and your legs move backwards, pulling you away from him, away from the anger that feels like it's radiating off him in waves.

He suddenly grips your chin with brutal force and yanks your jaw forward, forcing you to look at him.

"I had to kill one of my most trusted men today because of your..." His eyes dart back and forth for a moment, before he spits out the apparently perfect description of your escape attempt. "Hysteria. An absolute waste of potential, all because of your ridiculousness."

Your mouth is dry. Your voice is hoarse. But you speak up, anyway. You've already lost everything.

"It's not ridiculous to want to get out of here." 

The weight of the years seems to press down on your shoulders, pounding into your bones, screaming in your ears. 

"It's not ridiculous to--to want to take my daughter away from the man who kidnapped me and forced me to pretend like I was happy here, like I was happy living in some--" you cough, needing moisture, but not daring to stop to swallow lest you lose your courage. "--glorified dollhouse while you tell me what to do and what to wear and how to act and when to fuck you and when to have a baby and fuck you, fuck you, just fuck you Kai. I hate you. Oh I fucking hate you."

You don't notice as your voice gets louder, emboldened by the adrenaline that's been crashing through you since you opened the bedroom door, until his hand is gripping your upper arm in a show of brute, vise-length strength.

"Lower. your. voice." 

His grip strengthens until you cry out, and then it gradually loosens without letting you go completely.

For the next few moments, you do nothing but stare at one another. Your mind feels hazy, darting from thought to thought. It was all for nothing. The last four years, all for nothing. But you think about your daughter, about what she may have been able to accomplish outside of these walls, and even the fantasy of a free life for her made it worth something--didn't it?

It's his voice that lowered, now, as he lets you go completely and straightens himself up. All business now. But what business will he engage in, this time?

"Perhaps you do need a vacation," he says, finally. Firmly. He's made a decision.

You wonder if he's lost his mind and you're about to ask as much before he continues.

"Did you know this house has a secret room? It's nice and quiet. The perfect place for you to recuperate until you've regained your senses."

The room, the room, the room.

Your hand instinctively claps against your mouth as you cry out.

After all, you don't want to wake your daughter up with your screams.

[lilacmeadows]

Made For You pt.4

Whooo! The last part! Are You guys proud of me? I wanted to make it really sweet and solidify them as a non-toxic couple. Ugh I loved writing this reader. So happy to live and breath for Bucky (yes, ‘tis me). Requests are open, so if you ever miss her, and want a ‘Made For You’ drabble or epilogue or something, let me know.

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, stockholm syndrome, slight dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping, mutual pining, SMUT, ORAL (f receiving), FLUFF, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

Bucky sauntered into the kitchen, happier than he has been in at least 70 years. Things seem like they’re looking up. Out of Hydra’s control, gorgeous girl who likes the way the carpet feels on her knees. He felt guilty, but he was happy. That is, he was happy until he saw Steve sitting on a kitchen barstool, and he was snapped back to the reality of his situation.

“Hey man. Do you know where the number to that Chinese place is?” Bucky asked Steve, not meeting his eyes as he rummaged through the drawers.

“Yeah, it’s on a menu in the drawer to your right.” Steve pointed to the drawer in question.

“Thanks.” Bucky replied, looking over the options and wondering what she would like. Bucky remembered how it was when he was first free from Hydra. He hadn’t had processed foods in decades, and his stomach couldn’t take it. He decided on nothing spicy, just some noodles with broccoli and beef. Then he doubled that order for himself. This made Steve’s brows perk up.

“Eating for two, Buck? Steve asked once his friend was off the phone.

“I told Y/n I’d order dinner while she showered.” He said, shrugging like he hadn’t just gotten a world class blowjob.

“Dinner? So what’s going on with you two? You barely talked to her on the ride here. Did something change?” Steve asked, as Sam walked into the kitchen, joining their conversation.

“Dinner? You and Y/n are having dinner?” He asked, trying to catch up, but Steve only knew as much as he did.

“We... talked. She’s nice. I just want her to be happy while she’s here because she’s got nowhere else to go.” Bucky shrugged. Pulling out two cups and filling them with ice and some fruity beverage- which both men noticed.

“”Buck, you’re not actually gonna pursue her are you?” Steve asked? This was what Bucky was dreading. He knew Y/n probably needed years of therapy and to be far away from him, but he also knew that he was happy, and Y/n looked so at peace when she made him happy. So why can’t they both just be happy together?

“I don’t know man. I mean, she really likes me, and I don’t have to hide anything from her. She makes me seem like the sane one.

“But Buck, she needs help. She’s been in captivity for a decade only thinking about pleasing you. How are you okay with that?” Steve looked disappointed in him, but he knew Bucky wasn’t trying to take advantage of the situation, he wanted to be happy.

“Shit, I’m okay with it. Do you know what I would do to have a girl that looks like that look at me the way she looks at Bucky? And without all the annoying things women do. Aye, I think if she’s happy making you happy, what’s so wrong about it?” Sam finished. Steve thought it over for a second. He still didn’t love the idea, but had to admit Y/n really wanted to be around Bucky. Keeping her from him would only make her miserable.

“I never wanted to take advantage of her. But she literally begs. What am I supposed to do? Be an asshole? Not to mention, I’m happy too. It’s nice having someone really care about you, you know?” Steve gave him a look. “I know you idiots care about me, but I mean a woman. It’s not like I’m gonna do much better than Y/n. Beautiful women aren’t lining up to date a 85 year old, ex-murderer with a metal arm.” And he was right. Where would he find better than a woman Hydra made just for him?

The doorbell rang, and Bucky paid for the food. He picked up the drinks he prepared and said goodbye to his friends. Bucky knew the whole situation was kinda fucked, but he also found himself missing Y/n in the time he was in the kitchen, and that feeling was only eased by the knowledge that she’s in her room, waiting for him to return.

But when he got there, it took everything in him to not drop the food where he stood. She was sitting crisscrossed on the bed, knitting, in just a t-shirt he gave her. Her pussy was on display for him the minute he walked in the door.

“I- I got- the umm... The food is here.” He said as he walked in and placed it on the table.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She said as she put the needles down and walked over to the table. “It smells good.” She said, looking at different labels and the cups of juice.

“Yeah.” He said, zoning out a little at the sight of her bare legs. Much more of them were exposed than earlier. He could see the shape of her hips, and he watched her nipples harden under his gaze- his cock twitched in response. “You didn’t like the sweatpants?”

“Not really, I was too warm. And pants feel weird in between my legs.” She responded, looking up at him with big eyes. He groaned. It’s like her responses turned him on when she wasn’t even trying to. He assumed they trained her to be so seductive, but he swears part of it almost seemed natural. Like for some reason he couldn’t help but be turned on by her.

The two of them shared their meals together at the little table. He could tell she was a little nervous around him, but also happy to be in his company. Bucky also noticed how good she is at making conversation. Always polite, but she knew exactly the right things to say.

“So you’re definitely gonna knit me a sweater right?” He jested, empty takeout boxes discarded in the trash.

“I’d love to. But it’s gonna take a whole lot of yarn. I don’t know if anyone told you, Bucky, but you’re kinda broad.” She said with light in her eyes.

“I’ll get you all the yarn you want, Y/n.”

“What color do you want it?” She asked.

“You pick, Babydoll.” He said, pulling her chair a little closer to himself. He couldn’t help wanting to be closer to her.

“I want yarn the color of your eyes, Bucky. Sir, you’re so beautiful.” In their proximity, she definitely noticed his reaction to her calling him ‘Sir’. Feeling emboldened, she continued. “Do you like when I call you sir?” She asked.

“Yeah, Babydoll.” He breathed, they were pulling each other in like magnets. Everything felt like it was coming into place for the two of them.

“Then why do you tell me to call you Bucky?” Her giggles were cut off by a bruising kiss. She immediately felt his tongue demanding entry that she was too happy to allow. He picked her up from her chair, and placed her on his lap, straddling him.

“Because I can’t think straight when you call me that.” He said, standing with her legs around his waist. He could feel her wet, pantie-less pussy rubbing against his abs, and groaned in frustration. He was hard as steel.

He sat her gently on the bed, and started sliding down her body.

“You’re only gonna wear my clothes, okay?” He ordered. He knew she would do whatever he asked of her, but he would never ask her to do anything bad. Just seeing her in nothing but his shirt did something to him.

He pushed up the shirt, and kissed all the newly exposed skin. His cold, metal arm felt heavenly on her hard nipples. He kissed and licked all the way down her belly until he reached where she wanted him most.

“What are you doing, Sir?” She asked him when he started separating her folds.

“I’m about to eat this pretty pussy, Babydoll.” He looked at her from in between her legs.

“Ohhh. Why?” She asked. She didn’t want to sound dumb in front of him, but in her studies, she never saw anything being reciprocated. She assumed her body was just for his pleasure. But if this is what he wanted, who was she to complain.

“Because it’s soaking wet, beautiful, and I want a taste. Plus, how else am I gonna fit in here if I don’t get you ready? I can’t break my shiny new toy on the first day. My shiny Babydoll.” He said before taking a long lick from her entrance to her clit. “Mmm tastes so sweet. Like sugar water.”

“They only let me drink water and cranberry juice.” She giggled, glad to see him enjoying something she worked so hard for.

“Damn, if we didn’t kill Hydra, I’d have to write them a thank you card.” He joked, putting a finger in her hole and sucking her clit. She was moaning quite uncontrollably, she never felt pleasure like this (or really at all), and it was overwhelming for her.

But then he stopped all of a sudden. He kissed back up her body, and left his finger inside of her- something clawing at his mind.

“They- Hydra didn’t touch you did they? Did they touch my Babydoll?” He asked, looking her deep in the eyes. Just the thought of them touching his girl brought rage to his chest.

“N- no, Sir. They wanted me t-to, to be untouched for my S-Soldat.” She was finally able to muster. He wasn’t helping her concentration. After he ask his question, he added another finger and started stroking her walls. Upon her answer, he hummed and pulled her into a kiss.

“Y/n, You’re so good for me, Babydoll. But I don’t think I can take another minute not inside you.” He said, pulling off his clothes with one hand, the other knuckle deep in her pussy. As his hand increased speed, and his thumb pressed on her clit, she clenched around his two fingers and came. He pressed his tip into her entrance before she even came down.

“Sir, you’re so big.” She squealed.

“Babydoll, I’m barely in you yet.” He laughed before he drove home. Her legs wrapped around him as she screamed. The pain disappeared after the initial shock, help by the powerful orgasm she just had. But that orgasm seemed like nothing compared to the one he was currently brewing inside her with every hit to her cervix.

“So goddamn tight, Babydoll. Like you were Made For Me™️. I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, Y/n. Do you want that? Want me to claim you right here?” He pressed his hand on her belly, where he could feel himself bulging out of her from his size.

“Yes! Bucky, Yes!” She shouted, the knot deep inside her about to snap. “Please, make me yours, Sir” She moaned out his name like a prayer.

“Yes, good Y/n. My precious Babydoll. I’m about to cum baby. Cum with me, Y/n.” He said, grinding his pelvis in every thrust to rub against her clit. One of his arms supported his body while the other massaged her sensitive nipples.

Her orgasm was explosive, and the tightness around him felt so good, he followed her into the abyss. She shook and shuddered, while he stroked her hair, not ready to pull out of her just yet. They didn’t say anything until after he left to get her a washcloth to clean up her sopping, sensitive pussy. He was damn near mesmerized by the way she jumped a little from the overstimulation, and loved how his cum gushed out of her a little every time she breathed. He knew he needed this girl in his life forever.

“Bucky, I always wondered what happened to the women in those videos after her job was done.” She whispered against his lips when he came back up and put his arms around her.

“I doubt they got the special treatment like you do, but you deserve it for being my shiny Babydoll.” He told her and kissed her nose.

“Why do you call me that?” She asked.

“Because you look like a doll and you’re my favorite new toy.” He chuckled against her lips. Lazy kisses being exchanged between the two.

“So you’re gonna keep me?” She beamed at him.

“Of course I’m gonna keep ya, silly girl. You’re absolutely perfect. And it would be pretty rude to not keep a gift made just for me.” He kissed her one last time before she tucked her face into his neck and fell asleep.

He knew he’d have to teach her all the compassionate things about a relationship Hydra never did, but he was happy knowing that he’d protect her the way he had all those years ago. And that being with him is all she wanted.

~ if you wanna join my tag list/ be removed just let me know!!! My asks, replies, and messages are always open.

@austynparksandpizza @dracris33 @crzcorgi @musicheaux @little-moonbeam-666 @andydre4m @anakinravageme @hydrasbitches @bl4ckglitt3r @wondergirl556 @wannamonster @cremedelabrulee @buckybarnes-bitch @yazzyu

[im-his-druidess]

Ok, but Hypnos is the god of sleep right? So now I'm obsessed with the thought of him planting wet dreams in your head night after night, wanting you to wake him and use him for your pleasure. He pretends not to know anything about why you keep waking up panting and soaked, needing a cold shower before you can go back to sleep (maybe it's early in the relationship and you're embarrassed to ask for his help).

Finally, he loses his patience. One night you wake up from a delicious dream to find him buried in your cunt, your fingers had already lazily threaded through his curls in your sleep.

"Sweet dreams, love?"

(Apart of @johnny-simpfinger Oscar Isaac’s Greek God AU 💙)

Okay so Somnophilia (or Sleeping Princess Syndrome) is a big kink of mine so I absolutely LOVE this 🥵🥵

At first you would be confused, still disoriented from your dream and still groggy, and you stare up at him as you absentmindedly pet his hair as if by instinct. He smiles at you lovingly, staring into your eyes with so much love that it made your heart flutter, and then he shifted his hips.

Immediately your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the feel of his thick girth stretching you out so deliciously, memories of your not-so innocent dream flashing back to the forefront of your mind briefly, and you bite back a sob as he buried himself back inside your slick cunt with a deep groan. Your fingers fisted into his hair as your legs snapped around his waist and he nuzzled into the crook of your neck with a happy purr.

“Been wantin’ to do this for the longest,” he moaned as he rolled his hips in a deep steady rhythm that had you whimpering his name.

His words tugged at something in your mind, something about your constant dreams about the God that left you restless and soaked between your thighs, but his pace quickened and you could barely remember your own name. He reached underneath you to arch your hips, changing the angle so he was grinding against something that had your entire body jolting in his grasp as you shrieked through your sudden orgasm, but your lover just groaned deep in his chest and continued to hold your hips in place as he plowed his hips against you until he finally stilled with his pelvis pressed as flush against yours as possible. You could feel him come inside you, feel the hot pulses of his come as he filled you to the brim, and it made you shiver through another orgasm that left you a whimpering and trembling mess. When you could focus properly again Hypnos was raining kisses over your throat and jaw, humming happily as you tried to get your breathing back under control, and you dimly realized that he was still hard inside you. He seemed content to hold you and you shyly trailed your fingers over his shoulders and noted that they were noticeably less tense.

“That was perfect, love,” he mumbled against your cheek before dragging his lips up to your mouth and kissing you with so much passion and love that it left you rocking your hips in the same rhythm as the slick slide of his tongue in your mouth, but he pulled back and softly shushed you and patted your hip almost playfully.

“Now, be still for me, pet. You need to rest. I’ll wake you up when you’re ready to take me again, yeah?” he said softly with another, sweeter, kiss to your lips and you whimper at his words as he cuddles you close.

Then, you are drifting back to sleep easily, and you feel him smile against you before everything turns black.

[peachymilkandcream]

Under the desk blowjobs while Petra is oblivious and talking to Levi 👀?

Levi x Evelyn -> Choke

(A/N: As someone who thrives off jealous Petra pining over Levi and getting fucked over this is just what I need, literally I just want moments where she thinks things are going her way and gets slapped in the face. Thank you for the request! ^^)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

===============================================

Levi held Evelyn securely on his lap while he worked, having her by his side at all times had become like an addiction. He just needed it more and more. Now that Evelyn was at least somewhat behaving, he brought her everywhere with him. Showing her off to anyone he passed was the highlight of his day.

His free hand was securely on her breast, squeezing it occasionally as if to memorize how big it was compared to his hand. They both went on like this for some time until Levi sat back and stretched, making Evelyn cringe slightly at the sound of his joints going back into their original position.

Levi knew that he had a brief meeting with Petra in just a few minutes to go over a mission report that she had typed up. It was his job as her superior officer but she was just so dull, he could help but dread it slightly. As he looked at his wife however, and idea came to him as to how he could pass the time while the bitch droned on.

"Get on your knees." His command was simple and straight forward.

Evelyn complied once he let go of her, shutting her book and sliding to her knees, making sure her dress was modestly covering her.

"No no, under the desk."

She slides back until the wood of the desk hits her back. Being smaller than him she fit well, even when he rolled forward so his knees were pressed against her.

"I think you know what to do." Above her she could hear him arranging papers, expecting her to do as she's told.

Carefully, she undoes the button and zipper of his pants, making sure her nails don't poke him, she really didn't feel like getting punished right now. Just as he's freed from the confines of fabric the door opens, making Levi raise his head.

"Petra. Come in."

Evelyn stops immediately, figuring she'll wait until Petra leaves to fulfill his request. However a finger opens her mouth, and before she can grasp what's going on his cock is shoved down her throat, making her fight the urge to gag.

Levi has to control himself from letting out a shudder or groan at the sudden warmth and wetness. He could feel her throat tighten as she gagged, saliva building around him. But to his pleasure she didn't utter a sound, not that he particularly cared if Petra knew his wife was choking on his dick right now. Especially with all the makeup she had painted on her face, and the way her shirt was buttoned so low it's a good thing she was flat as a cutting board because if not she'd be hanging out. Which is probably what she was going for anyway.

"Go ahead with the mission report Petra."

Petra tried to suggestively put her hair behind her ear, these private moments were what she treasured most about her week. The moments she'd go home and touch herself to later. She'd borrowed makeup from her friend and even requested a size down in shirt size, just for him. Being his subordinate for so long she had taken to memorizing his looks, there was arousal in his eyes, she knew it. Usually he had that look when he was watching Evelyn, but now his eyes were on her. She had no doubt he'd find an excuse to push her down and rail her, charmed by her body and wit. Petra was glad she wasn't on birth control either, to see Evelyn's face once Levi announced he wanted a divorce because he'd gotten someone else pregnant would mean the world. The heat between her thighs grew and she pressed them together to try and centre her thoughts enough to get through the report before the inevitable passion.

"Report dated October 15th-"

By then Levi had already drowned Petra out, he was only focused on how Evelyn was sucking his dick greedily like she was dying of thirst. He was sure even someone as thick in the head as Petra could see how turned on he was. The way when Evelyn came up for air she would lick down his shaft made precum leak out of him, but she was always quick to lap it up. He would reward her after this, set her on the table and eat her out for hours. She deserved it, his wife deserved to be spoiled when she took care of him this well. He'd do all the gooey romantic shit she wanted, making her cum until she was moaning his name.

"Right Levi?"

Levi shook his head just slightly to snap back to reality when he realized Petra asked him a question. "Captain-" He corrected. "And yes I suppose." He had no idea what she said but it didn't matter terribly.

Petra beamed from ear to ear, he had corrected her in using his title instead of his name but his answer was what she wanted. To segue into their passionate love making she had asked him if he thought it was so bad for subordinates and their superiors to be in romantic relationships, making up an example just for the sake of getting his answer.

He was so close, he was going to cum down Evelyn's throat, fill her stomach when he made her swallow it all. He pushed Evelyn's head all the way down until her nose was in his pubic hair, filling her mouth with the smallest sigh imaginable.

"What was that Levi?" Petra had asked curiously.

"Captain. I just cracked my back is all. Is that it? Are you done?"

The moment Petra was waiting for, now he'd take her in his arms. "Yes that's all of it."

"Good." Levi went back to work, leaving Petra sitting there confused but waiting for a few awkward moments until he simply said. "You're dismissed."

Disappointment sent a pang through Petra's heart as she got up and left the room, taking her time unless he called her back. When he didn't she sighed, closing the door slowly and accidentally catching a glimpse of Evelyn coming out from under his desk. Rage burned inside her, that witch had distracted him. Next time she'd make sure he's alone and would need to do something a bit more drastic.

Levi wiped the droplet of cum from Evelyn's lip, holding it out for her to lick clean. When she did he kissed her forehead and cheek. "Now lay down sweetheart, let me give your reward."

[butterflyinthewell]

Raditz headcanons!

(Warning: some nsfw text ahead! Scroll to the second picture to avoid it.)

The funny stuff:

Raditz fucks. He calls himself a slut because he fucks often and he’s good at it.

He is happy to suck dick, eat pussy and eat ass for money. He’s not picky as long as the presented part is clean.

He’s proudly bisexual.

His dick is huge. Monstrous.

He loves to land on a planet he’s going to decimate and shmooze, go to bars, get drunk, say he’ll let them live if the sex is good, fuck whoever offers and kill everyone there anyway.

He rawed Zarbon’s brains out because Zarbon said he doubted Saiyajins could fuck. Zarbon still refuses to admit it’s the best dick he ever got in his life. All Raditz has to do is grab at his own crotch around Zarbon and that pretty jerk gets all flustered.

Raditz loves to be naked. He’s immodest and an exhibitionist, so he only wears clothes because he gets tired of people yelling at him to put some on.

He’s that guy who will eat the most disgusting food item or food mixture you put in front of him just to gross out everyone watching. Ice cream with toothpaste? Pop tarts with ketchup on them? Something alive and wiggly? Sure, he’ll eat it without flinching and watch you squirm.

He’s an expert troll. No, he’s a god-tier troll.

Once, he pranked the Ginyu Force by making Guldo stink. Guldo has no sense of smell, so Raditz smeared rotten meat all over the inside of his armor once while the little guy was in the showers. It took a week to figure the stink out, but nobody knew Raditz did it.

He can do a pretty good impression of Zarbon’s voice, so he once got a bunch of troops outside of Freeza’s room under “orders from Zarbon”. He got caught for that one and got his ass beat, but he’ll say it was worth it.

He draws things on the back of Nappa’s bald head while Nappa is asleep. Usually faces, but once or twice it was a dick or butt crack.

Once, he sent a dick pic to Freeza’s scouter during a debriefing and made the little bastard choke on his wine.

Another time, he got a dick pic onto the debriefing display and it ruined the whole meeting because everybody started yelling at each other. Raditz sat back and watched the chaos unfold with a shit-eating grin on his face. Yep, he showed the entire Freeza Force a picture of his enormous fully erect dick and he’d do it again.

And another time, he played the audio of Zarbon moaning and gasping all over Freeza’s ship, and Zarbon couldn’t do anything about it because it would mean confessing to letting Raditz fuck his brains out. Zarbon likes to project this image that he’s chaste and above such base desires, so being reminded of the time he had with Raditz embarrasses him so so sooooo much.

He jacked off into Freeza’s wine once. Freeza took a drink, spat it out and killed the guy who brought the wine. Nappa and Vegeta were in on this one, so the three of them snickered about it for months.

He taught Vegeta how to kiss by making out with him. It sorta broke his heart a little when Vegeta later said he wasn’t interested in him that way, cuz he had a bit of a crush on the Saiyajin prince.

Raditz might act cold and uncaring, but he has a big soft spot for kids. He wants to settle down and have some of his own someday. Unfortunately, life under Freeza doesn’t give him that opportunity. Plus, he’s a little afraid to for the genetic reasons about to be mentioned below.

The serious stuff:

Raditz’s biggest struggle is his epilepsy.

He was born with a rare gene mutation called a Naeb deletion (or Naeb syndrome) that kills most Saiyajin babies before their second birthday. (It’s pronounced “naw-EEB”.)

There are four Naeb genes in the average Saiyajin, or seizure suppressor genes. All four have to be present or a Saiyajin comes out with Naeb syndrome. Raditz is missing two of these genes.

Some Saiyajins carry an extra (fifth) Naeb gene-- a mutation-- that causes these deletions in children. If only one parent has that gene, the chances of a kid with Naeb syndrome are fifty-fifty. If both parents have the mutation, all their kids come out with it and it's usually fatal. Bardock had an extra Naeb gene, but Gine didn't. That's why Raditz has seizures and Goku doesn’t.

Every Saiyajin with Naeb syndrome is missing their last set of molars, has two extra ribs, has denser than average bones and extremely long hair. Their brain development is also faster than average, which can mean it grows faster than the skull around it. Sometimes the skull doesn’t grow fast enough to keep up with the brain, so the brain is crushed.

Structurally, Raditz’s brain has all the parts it’s supposed to, but they’re in slightly different places. He has less cerebrospinal fluid than average, his corpus callosum looks like a ring from the side and his lateral ventricles are smaller because his brain had to fold in on itself more to fit inside his skull. There’s a spot in his parietal lobe that’s pressed right up against the inside of his skull, and his meninges and a few millimeters of cerebrospinal fluid are the only thing that stops his brain from lacerating itself. That spot is always spiking with abnormal electrical activity. It’s like a match striking over and over. His brain doesn’t like being so squished in his skull, so sometimes it misfires when that “match” strikes and you get a flame, which is a seizure.

Raditz has a few different seizure types depending on which parts of his brain react to the constant “striking” activity and some of his seizures have a few triggers.

Doctors call Raditz’s epilepsy “mild”, but Raditz disagrees and considers it severe because he’s the one affected by it and not them.

He’s tried many different medications and none work. Surgery isn’t an option because Saiyajins don’t tolerate brain surgery very well and the chances of developing new seizure sources outweigh the benefits.

His scouter records and logs his seizures. He gets the time of the seizure, the length of the seizure and a video of the environment he was in. (If something flashes, the flashing is removed.)

Flashing lights can trigger seizures. His scouter has special polarized glass that counter flashes whenever someone’s ki flashes, so he just sees a solid color in that eye. Blocking one eye helps prevent the electrical excitation in his brain that turns into seizures. This doesn’t work if he’s exposed to flashing lights for longer than sixty seconds though. This is meant to give him time to turn away or cover his other eye.

He can’t go anywhere with strobes because of his seizures. Bars are okay since most don’t have strobes, but nightclubs are inaccessible.

Focal aware seizures are his most common seizure type, and he can have hundreds of these a day. They’re twenty seconds long. You can’t tell he’s having one unless you know what to look for, which is a faint quiver in his eyelids when he blinks. Sometimes he closes his eyes until the worst part of it is over.

It’s hard for him to describe how these seizures feel. They start as a little tingling at the tip of his thumb that spreads to his wrist. It’s a very annoying sensation. Then he gets sudden vertigo like someone yanks the ground sideways. During that vertigo he perceives everything as being way too close and too real. He gets a strong sense of doom. That’s the worst part. Then it’s over. The tingling stops, his senses return to normal and his heart rate slows.

He learned to compensate for the vertigo, so he can still fly and fight while having a focal aware seizure and nobody would know the difference.

Atonic seizures aren’t his most devastating seizures, but they’re the only seizure that embarrasses him to have in public. His muscles suddenly lose tone and he blacks out for a split second. If he’s walking or standing, he falls headfirst to the ground. If he’s sitting, he slumps. If he’s flying, he loses altitude for a second or two.

His atonic seizures happen when he doesn’t get enough sleep. They tend to come in clusters of two or three in a row. They can mess with his memory, causing him to lose a few minutes or be confused about where he is. If he’s in the middle of a conversation, he might forget what was being talked about, but reminding him gets him back on track.

Tonic clonic seizures are Raditz’s most devastating seizures. These are the big bad seizures that can be triggered by flashing lights. He can have them spontaneously, too, and averages about one or two a week.

Spontaneous ones start with his usual tingly focal aware seizures. He knows it’s going to generalize if the tingle continues up his arm instead of fading away. The second the tingle reaches his neck, he goes. His eyes roll back, he gets stiff, he shakes and he’s down for awhile.

Induced seizures give him no warning other than a sudden, extremely intense pain in the back of his skull. Induced seizures are worse than spontaneous ones because they’re more violent and last longer.

Some of his other weird TC triggers are going into or coming down from an oozaru transformation, getting dehydrated, not eating enough, being awakened out of delta wave sleep and stimulants like caffeine.

Regardless of how a TC started, he loses several hours of memory and doesn’t get it all back. His worst seizure wiped out a month of his life and he never regained those memories.

If he just ate, he will puke as he enters the tonic phase of the seizure. This is a huge choking hazard for him. He doesn’t care if he pees or poops himself during a seizure, but vomiting is really bad. If he just ate a huge meal and feels a TC coming, he’ll stick his finger down his throat and get the puking done before the seizure hits.

He almost always wets or soils himself during the clonic phase unless he just went to the bathroom before he had it.

If he powers up as a TC starts, his power rises uncontrollably until the tonic phase progresses into the clonic phase, then he releases massive ki waves that destroy everything around him. He hits power levels he can’t reach while conscious and in control of his ki, but this is dangerous because he could power up until he explodes and there’s no way to stop it.

His instinct when he realizes a seizure is generalizing is to either finish a fight quickly or power down and go hide to have the seizure because he knows he’s vulnerable during and after.

The worst seizure of his life was caused by Captain Ginyu. He goaded Raditz into attacking without his scouter and flickered a ki ball right in his face. Raditz went down. The Ginyu Force kicked him around while he was on the ground seizing. Nappa lured them into a fight to stop the unfair beating and Vegeta dragged Raditz away to finish the seizure. It was awful because Raditz threw up and soiled himself and the Ginyu Force made sure he got covered in all of it.

Raditz doesn’t remember this and neither Vegeta nor Nappa told him what really happened.

Post-ictal Raditz will remove anything on his body that feels bad, so he often ends up naked. He won’t recognize friend or foe and isn’t going to react kindly to being crowded.

If he’s alone, he’s likely to sit staring at the ceiling or sky until he collapses into sleep.

His scouter shows him a picture of his attack ball if he’s on a mission and that’s enough incentive for him to go find it even while too confused to tell someone his own name.

After his post-seizure sleep, he wakes up kinda giddy and hyperactive as his unsettled brain chemistry tries to restore balance. He will be sore as hell, too, usually that’s how he knows he had a seizure.

Nappa and Vegeta have seen so many seizures. They take bets on whether Raditz will pee, poop or do both. Then they’ll flip him on his side and wait it out. Barring emergency retreats, they don’t let him leave an area until he can identify a scouter by name.

Yep, seizures messed up some of his slutty sexual escapades. Usually by killing whoever he was trying to fuck since the violent convulsions hurt other people and his immediate environment more than they hurt him.

And finally…

The loss of planet Vegeta isn’t something Raditz likes to talk about. He was on a scouter to scouter call with someone there when it happened and all he heard was a bunch of screaming. He still can’t handle listening to recorded audio of screaming people because it reminds him of hearing his planet die.

[yanderenightmare]

HEADCANNONS

KINKS & FETISHES     part two

goodiebage WARNINGS: yandere, abuse, noncon/dubcon, arson, threats, Stockholm Syndrome, mind control, narcissism, sadism, slavery, torture

PART ONE 

YANDERE ! KATSUKI BAKUGO - KACHAN POWERPLAY

It’s been said before and it will continue to be preached until the end of time: Katsuki is a full-blown narcissist, and he loves making his dominance excruciatingly clear. He rarely uses any form of bondage, enjoying being the sole reason his darling stays in her place. Hand around her throat, squeezing that weak windpipe, forcing those precious sweet squeaks from her throat, feeling them simmer against his palm. Capturing her tiny delicate wrists between his fingers, squishing until bones pop and she swears in spluttering whines that he’s snapped and broken something. His knee digging into the doughy flesh of her thigh, causing sharp tickling pain to shoot straight through her flesh, all in an exaggerated effort at keeping her beneath him.

He’ll be degrading, especially in a suggestive way. His entire bone-crushing weight pressing down into her, constricting and controlling what air gets to pass down to her lungs, while he knowingly asks her how good it feels when she begins to clamp down around the girth of his cock, feeling her warm wet walls convulse and spasm each time he pumps his sopping swollen tip into the spongey feel of her cervix. Teasing, taunting and mocking words flying along with spit through his grit teeth onto her face, as the tab of his thumb rubs tight circles onto the bead of her clit. Anything resembling self-control can be written off as a cruel joke, when they both know her entire composure is at his mercy. Reduced to simply stimuli and response at his fingers, her reactions on his beck and call.

YANDERE ! DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA BEGGING KINK

He wants to see her kneel, he wants to see her crawl, he wants to hold that perfect little face between his palms and make her shiver and quake at the feel of his warming hands, threatening to mar her soft and supple skin up until it’s nothing but tough purple leather like him, with no hope of healing. He wants to see her cry, he wants it loud as though her sobs could shatter glass, he wants it ugly as though no one could look at her and call her beautiful except for him. He wants all of it as his studded cockhead pokes at her inside, all the while where he pounds into her ruthlessly and savagely, hearing her feeble broken pleas tremor beneath the palm he’s placed wrapped deadly around her throat, fingers bending and plunging into her delicate neck.

Then he wants to show mercy, he wants to glide his lanky boney fingers through her soft hair, hush and coo at her to quit her sniveling and shaking. He’ll have her on his chest, listening to her mumble out sweet forms of gratitude and other soft-tinted apologies. Her lips admiring his piercings, laying worship on them as though praying at an altar. Finding utter unlocking blissful satisfaction, as though some war has been won, at the fact that she’ll never be able to leave him, because he’s made the idea of leaving him seem like death in her brittle mind, not because he would hunt her down, but because she cannot hope to live without him.

YANDERE ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA FOOT FETISH

Just look at them. So dainty and petite compared to his, so small compared to anything, fitting so perfectly in his hand, soft skin in contrast to his dry toughened and calloused hands. And so very sensitive and ticklish, both beneath the touch of his fingers and teeth and tongue and cock. Pink wriggling toes, curling and crinkling until they cramp as he bottoms-out inside her, just begging for him to bite them while he fucks her harder, unable to go anywhere with her ankles shackled together, the chain pulled over his head and resting at his neck with her precious feet made to hang off his shoulders, only able to pull him closer.

Tomura learned quickly when playing with his darling that a woman’s feet are a woman’s weakness, because as she begs him not to touch her, begs him to stay away, once he wraps his hand around her ankle and drags her back to where he wants her, thigh-high sock slowly being pulled off to reveal her legs and coming off at her pedicured toes, foot enclosed in his strong hands, making her bones pop in a much needed message, she’ll moan in a way parallel with how lude she’ll croak with his fat cock drilling into her.

YANDERE ! SHINSO HITOSHI BONDAGE KINK

Who would not find it cute? A little pussycat all knotted up in a ball of yarn, with no hope of escaping, all trapped and vulnerable and begging for Master’s help. Her fingers dancing in the air, wrists tightly locked together, under full understanding that they’re completely useless under the circumstances, having no purpose except for stroking his cock in those moments he’s come close enough, yet not having the courage to sink her claws into the tender squishy flesh of his length because he has her other delicate bits on full display, all for him to destroy if she is to give him the right motivation, if she gives him an excuse to punish her.

He can play nice if she plays along, if she expresses her gratitude on cue like he’s taught her, if she asks for permission, if she begs enough. Either way, she’s not getting out of his trap. Either way, he’ll have his way, which is all that’s important to him. He knows she’ll enjoy herself whether she wants to or not, he’ll see to it up close and personally. Whispering small commands in her ear when she decides to be difficult, telling her to focus, telling her to forget everything except for him and those hands of his and that tongue of his and those teeth of his and that fat veiny cock of his, playing with her, forcing her to see stars.

YANDERE ! TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS MARKING KINK

It’s a need, it’s a necessity, it’s an instinct more than a desire. He’ll be rigid and manic and swivel-eyed, unable to feel at all at ease or at peace with her skin being unadorned and healed and ridden of his teeth-marks and claw-marks and love-bites. They belong on her just as much as that angel-coated set of wings on her back. His name belongs carved into her chest with the handy use of one of his crimson feathers just as much as that feather belongs in the flock on his own back. They need to be ever present on her body or else he’s risking her forgetting who it is that she belongs too.

She doesn’t really need clothes. Keigo likes her ready for the taking at all times. Expensive clothing articles just go to waste if they fall prey to him having to rip them to shreds when removing them unceremoniously from her body, especially when she’s so adamant on resisting him. Besides, if she’s all covered up in silks and whatnot, how is his need to see himself on her skin expected to be satiated? And, she looks so cute trying and struggling to cover herself up, with only her hands and feathers to use in hiding herself from Keigo’s prying eyes.

YANDERE ! MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU DADDY-KINK

Whether it’s sparked by his need to help and protect his little darling from harm and the dangers of the world, or because his own father abandoned him as a child, he does not give it too much thought, despite his darling often times asking for an explanation when he has her bent over his knee, sharp slaps printed on the dome of her ass while she’s made to beg Daddy for forgiveness, her otherwise perfect milky skin now bruised with ugly purple and blues, further indicating Izuku’s ownership of her. Come to think of it, maybe it’s because the title inspires authority, something of which he demands all responsibility of.

She’s his little girl, his little baby, his little Bunny, in desperate dangerous need of Daddy’s firm hand to teach her right from wrong, to teach her proper manners and proper posture and how to properly bounce up and down the length of his cock. Manners including begging Daddy to let her cum, whereas posture is learned and achieved through lesson after lesson where they train in keeping her ass arched up when her head is buried face-down in the pillow, with Daddy’s cock skewering her from behind, her little ass earning a bright-red slap each time her posture fails, her little ditzy brain unable to take simple directions with all the blood pooling in her brain.

YANDERE ! CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL LINGERIE KINK

She looks so perfect clad in expensive customized lace-roses and patterned mesh. Straps connecting her garner-belt to her thigh-high socks, all decorated with rosery swirls and diamonds and pearls, the golden clasps acting as a thing to admire and a puzzle to solve before he can slide her out of her underwear. Bralette granting minimum support as he wants to see her mounds in their natural perfection, the invisibility of the mesh-fabric leaving little to the imagination with her nipples on full display. Teddies too are such a delicate and exquisite playful attire for him to dress her up in. Intricate and ornate patterns adorning the fabrics both of silk and satin and velvet and cotton and lace, two small buttons positioned at her entrance for easy access.

Way too short skirts to even come close to fulfilling their purpose of hiding her privates. With their fluffy taffeta and tulle propping the skirt up into a wet-dream fairy-tutu costume. Kimonos too are such a sweet soft form of unwrapping a present. Tendrils of ribbon tying into big splendid flamboyant bows all for him to tug and make fall apart to open what glory found inside the packaging. Ruffles adorning the sleeves and every other edge in cutesy doll-like fashion. Colors of pastel pinks and creams in stark contrast to his black suit-pants when he makes her take a seat on his knee.

YANDERE ! TODOROKI SHOTO AFTERCARE KINK

It’s more than a duty, it’s a pleasure as well, something to look forward to, something to cherish. To have her broken bruised sweat-slicked radiant body, shivering from the cold or feverish and delirious from the heat, all fallen into a feeble mess of tired aching limbs, and her so very preciously dumb blissed-out state of mind, with words incoherently mumbled and blubbered and hiccupped out into the air with no true goal inside her fried little head. Her eyes heavy-lidded and pupils opium-wide, unable to focus on anything with the rapturous frenzied-high that has shaken her body ablaze and rendered her all but a febrile mess.

She’s so cute with all her humanity having been broken, leaving her as a wild cotton-eyed bleating little lamb as he places her in the hot-tub, careful to join her so she not drown in her absentminded euphoria. It takes time to come down from the fever, her body involuntarily fallen prey to spasms and convulsions wreaking through to her toes as they crinkle under the pressure, with her voice outing small whimpering sighs and moans. Shoto’s right hand ghosting over those fresh red and blue and purple galaxies adorning her body, cooling the swelling skin down, calming the blood gushing out from popped veins as he whispers sweet soft-spoken comforting nothings into her ear, cooing and hushing at her to let him kiss everything better.

[theautumnisnoble]

we'll learn to swim in the oceans you made

After listening to Shirtsleeves by Ed Sheeran this scenario immediately came into mind, also heavily inspired by Jenn Im's pregnancy youtube video titled, "We're Pregnant!"

[Also a very big thank you to A (@solhwippedsubs on twt and holdoutandwin on ao3) for beta-reading this. I love you my solhwi fluff confidant!]

Word Count: 2k words

"Wake up!" Sol removes the comforter that was covering his husband's body and started shaking him. "Han Joon Hwi, ireona!"

"Mmm, Sol-ah. Why?" Joon Hwi covered his eyes with his arm to shield them from the rays of sunlight and wondered why the love of his life was forcing him out of their bed so early in the morning.

"Ireona! Jebal.." Joon Hwi immediately shot up as Sol's voice started to crack and he examined her face. Sol teared up and Joon Hwi noticed she was holding something tightly, stick close to snapping into half.

"Babe, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Joon Hwi held both of her arms and looked up at her.

Sol had been so emotional these days, well, more than she usually is. Sol always has been a passionate ball of fury, but Joon Hwi especially had it rough this week. He doesn't find Sol annoying or tiring for any of that matter, but he would wonder why Sol would suddenly cry or get mad at him for absolutely no reason, and if there was, then he avoided asking it as when he did that one time, Sol only got more mad at him. There was also yesterday when Joon Hwi sprayed on himself the perfume that Sol gifted to him on their wedding anniversary last April and Sol suddenly pinched her nose close and walked outside of their bedroom. And now, Sol was in tears, sobbing, at 7 am in the morning.

"Babe.. I'm starting to worry. What's wrong?"

"I told you to be careful!!!" Sol lightly punched his shoulder and bawled.

Joon Hwi raised his arm and wiped her tears using the sleeves of his sweater, pulling on the cloth with his fingers. "What did I do wrong? Calm down for a sec and tell me.."

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"O-okay." Joon Hwi surrendered for a while and let Sol release all of her emotions. Moments later, her sobs started to simmer down and Joon Hwi opened his arms wide. "C'mere."

Sol bended down and let Joon Hwi's arms circle around her. Her lower body slowly went closer to him and then she sat on his lap, her shoulder against his chest. Joon Hwi wiped down the dampness on her face and caressed her arm. "Now, babe, talk to me, okay? I'm never gonna know what I did wrong if you won't tell me."

Sol faced him and tried to form intelligent words. "Well, you—"

"Hmm?"

"I'm—" Her mouth started to form into a pout and tears started fall again from her eyes. "Joon Hwi-ah." She released sobs again and buried her face into his neck. Joon Hwi sighed and patted her arm.

"Babe—"

"I'm pregnant."

Joon Hwi paused his movements and pulled his head back away, lightly pushing Sol by her shoulders, to let Sol face him. Sol's eyes wandered down to her left hand and Joon Hwi followed them, then he grabbed the stick from her hand.

It was a pregnancy test. Two red-dyed lines. Positive.

Joon Hwi faced Sol, his lips starting to form into a smile. "Babe—"

"I told you to be careful!!" Sol again whimpered, tears still falling.

"W-what? Is it because I—"

"Nevermind!" Sol wiped her tears in a rash way and breathed out to calm herself down. "I-it's actually not your fault." Sol now realized the irrationality of her internal reasoning.

Joon Hwi held back a chuckle and tucked a hair behind his wife's ear.

"Remember April?"

"When we shared a sloppy kiss under the rain?" Joon Hwi tried to lighten the mood by reminding her how they had to walk all the way to the bus stop under the heavy pouring rain, just right after they had their wedding anniversary date at a fine dining restaurant four months ago. It was a funny, but sweet memory.

"No! Before that, when I got diagnosed with PCOS."

"Aah."

It left Sol and Joon Hwi almost hopeless for a child when she was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. But Sol, even before that, was convinced she didn't need to have kids and that she was satisfied with her life with Joon Hwi, content that they'd be that couple with no children. They were already busy with their very time-demanding jobs and Sol— she convinced herself she wouldn't be competent with the whole mothering a child thing. But after knowing her condition, the question, "should I?" turned to "could I?". The condition that would possibly rob her of the choice eventually made her think about how it wouldn't be so bad, because Joon Hwi was there. So after the news of her condition, she decided on one thing.

"A-after that I got off birth control." Joon Hwi nodded and listened to Sol, who was still tearing up a bit, and he also wiped down those tears when he could.

"Then yesterday, when I realized I wasn't on my period yet, I got to read my period calculator and saw that I- I was 16 days late." Sol exhaled for courage.

"Then I bought the pregnancy test." Sol paused and looked at Joon Hwi, and her face looked like she was about to burst again. Her lips were shaking and her eyes were still crystal with tears ready to fall. She was scared.

"You can take it slow, I'll be here. I won't stop listening." Sol released a small smile, tidied her face and tucked in her stray hairs, preparing to tell Joon Hwi more while also now trying to relax herself.

"I didn't know if I should take it though. I mean, everything would change if I was pregnant. But I did wanna know, I wanted to be certain. And it said that I should use my morning pee for it so I waited until morning."

"But you hardly even slept.." Joon Hwi recalls her wife tossing and turning beside him, and then ultimately giving up trying to sleep then went downstairs. He bets on Sol reading up on her cases, which works as an alternative sleeping pill for her.

Ever since she was diagnosed with PCOS, Sol really took effort into having a more healthy lifestyle— like exchanging coffee for matcha, this among other things, and also trying to get some more sleep. So Joon Hwi knew that Sol would definitely try to catch up on sleep.

"I did, a bit." She smiled. "So, after that I took it just earlier. A-and I tested positive." Sol's emotions now returned to her and she closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed and tears started to fall again.

"I'm scared." She looked at him. "I don't know if I'm gonna be a good mother. I feel like I should be happy or something, but I'm just really scared." Sol now covered her face with both palms and cried, Joon Hwi pulled her in to embrace her.

"Babe.." He patted her back.

"What if I try my best, and our kid still doesn't love me?" That was it. Sol released another wave of sobs and her body shook against Joon Hwi's embrace.

Sol thought she wasn't ready. Even if it was her choice to get off birth control, she didn't think she would immediately become pregnant. After all, her doctor said it was now almost impossible to be. In her mind, pregnancy would change everything— from how much devotion she has to her work to maybe how her and Joon Hwi's relationship would change, and maybe for the worst. And she didn't like change, her idealistic plans for her future would need to be altered, and she also didn't like how it would most likely change their marriage. She couldn't have that, she couldn't live with a ruined marriage because she didn't want anything to change between Joon Hwi and her, and she also couldn't live with her child possibly having to live through all that. And what if he gets tired of taking care of me? And tons of other doubts and insecurities showered her.

Why does my mind do this? Sol asked herself. Why can't I just be excited? Joon Hwi is the father of this child. I'm sure he's disappointed in me right now.

Joon Hwi pulled away after she calmed down. He wiped her face, again with his already damp shirtsleeves. He placed short kisses on her wet cheeks and cupped her face. "Sol, I believe in you."

Sol melted and her lips turned into a pout, her face still showing fear and uncertainty.

"I'm with you, whatever your decision is. I will be always there for you as I always have. If you arrive to whichever decision, I will give you my opinion but at the end I will always support you. If you don't want to have the baby, I'll still be here. If you want to try and see it through the end, I will be happy and help you every step of the way. I'm your husband Sol-ah. I know you don't trust yourself that much yet, but trust in me. "

Sol put her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I love you Sol. We'll take it slow, step by step. I know you're panicking right now, but there's no rush. We'll do it together. You're never gonna be alone. I'll be there every single step of the way. And I'm sure our kid will love you. You were an amazing older sister to Byeol and you still are, she adores you so I'm sure our kid will, too."

"I love you Joon Hwi. I love you so much. I love you."

"You love me that much?"

Sol pulled away, annoyed. Joon Hwi released a chuckle.

"I love you too."

"You sure I can do it?" Sol asked. "Being a mom? What if I'm going to be too busy for it?"

"We can always ask Byeol to babysit. Or your mom, she has said she already wants a grandchild."

"You always know the solution to things don't you?" Sol rolled her eyes.

"That's why I'm the perfect husband to the ever worrier Eomma Sol."

"Eomma Sol?" Sol raised her voice, taken aback by the sudden nickname.

"And I'm Appa Joon Hwi. " Then Sol bursted out, laughing. Her tears were now drying on her cheeks and she was more relaxed now.

"See? It's cute." I just wanted to see you smile. Joon Hwi thought.

Sol pulled him into a hug again. "You better not regret being a father to our child, Han Joon Hwi-ssi."

Joon Hwi let himself fall into bed, taking down Sol with her. They both laughed and Joon Hwi pulled her into a kiss, tasting the bitterness and sadness of her tears. They made out, feeling at home and Sol, feeling assured and loved by the person in front of her. Joon Hwi kissed her, tasting the ocean, drowning in the one she made.

"I will never regret it. I will fulfill all the promises I made on our wedding day, to be by your side, To support you, to be a loving husband, to be always there to annoy you—" Sol laughed, remembering his one-liner during their exchange of wedding vows. "To always wake and sleep beside you whenever I can, and to never leave your side." They both smiled at each other and Joon Hwi placed a kiss on her forehead. They pull each other close, feeling each other's warmth. And Sol is now close to slumber, fatigued after her nonstop crying.

"I'll be the happiest father to our child. Of course I will, you're the mother, after all."

[herstarburststories]

Wedding Dress

Kinktober day 13: Cunnilingus

Pairing: Domestic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean is hiding under your wedding dress— he can have some fun while he's in there, right?

A/N: I'll admit that my mood isn't high today, and writing this one was kind hard at some point. So, @theicariantouch helped me a lot more than they usually already do and I'm so glad. Thank you, hon! This is co-written.

Warnings: oral sex (woman receiving), cute, kind public sex

“You look beautiful!”

You rolled your eyes at your mom's obvious lie, although the look on her face told you that she truly believed that adjective could be used properly there. Perhaps that was the 'perfect child' syndrome again when mothers saw their newborns — the unfinished, strange little creatures as they were — as the cutest beings in the galaxy. No one would have the heart to tell them that their baby looked like an old knee, and neither did you about the clearly ugly clothing.

The inordinately puffy dress was more beige than white with a massive bow laced to crown at the small of your back, no cleavage, and sequins embossed with an opalescent gleam trailing along the waistline. It wasn’t in an elegant way like Cinderella’s, but in the most démodé, antiquated manner possible. You'd never wear it for any party, much less your marriage — plus, you just tried it on because you imagined it'd be funny to twirl and watch the skirt flutter, maybe feel like a princess for a hot minute. 

There was something those movies didn’t tell you about the dresses like this, and that was the fact they were heavy. You only wore it for a couple of minutes, and you already wanted to cut it open with scissors and walk around naked for the rest of the day.

After all, this wasn't really your color.

You replaced your wrinkled nose with a playful grimace followed by a shrug. “I guess I'll try another. The siren cut one is really pretty.”

“I'll ask for them to get it.” She nodded, getting up to summon Cecilia — the unfortunate worker that had fetched at least fifteen different dresses for you by now — and the third glass of champagne for herself. She quickly got lost in the lavender-scented castle of dresses, high-classed scenery marked with the quiet lull of Celine Dion playing in the background. You scoffed, turning around to meet the mirror again just to make sure this one was a definite no until your eyes found something way more interesting.

Dean Winchester — the man you made a home out of — was looking at you through the large glass window. It was so easy to spot the smile on his face while he observed you with a lionized intensity as if you were his favorite movie that he couldn’t get enough of watching. Dean's vivid green eyes were almost glossy with adoration and loyalty — because that was the only way this magnetic man knew how to love. And he loved you; oh, how much he loved you and the life he never thought he'd get with you. That marvelously dazed look on his face almost fooled you into thinking that this was the right dress.

Sweetened seconds of longing looks soon shifted, changing into a frown of yours as Dean stepped into the fancy boutique. You moved your body to glance at him, the skirted ends of the dress dancing around your legs as the subtle woosh of fabric echoed. Fortunately, it seemed to break Dean's focus as well, his eyes now sharpened on your confused expression.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was out for lunch with Sammy, so I decided to drop in.” He smirked, approaching you. You placed your hands on your hips and glanced at him. Your bridal instinct — which, funnily enough, sounded a lot like your mom — screamed for you to cover yourself up, but what was the point? He had already seen it, and that definitely wouldn't be your dress.

Nonetheless, you arched your eyebrows and wore an accusative tone as you spoke, “You aren't supposed to see me in a wedding dress before our marriage, Winchester.”

“I don't believe that.” Dean rolled his eyes and placed his hands on your hips.

God, that puffy beige abomination had enough cushiony material to suppress the sensation of Dean's hands on you. Yep, big no.

Childish joy was spreading across your face with a beam as you put your arms around his neck. “You, of all people, a skeptic?”

The Winchester pulled you closer donning that lopsided grin that often made you want to drag him to the nearest bed, but, before he could even speak, you heard your mother's voice nattering to Cecilia about shades of white steadily growing louder. 

She would kill you and Dean both if she saw him there.

“Hide, now!” You pushed his chest only to gain a confused look from the retired hunter. “My mom's coming. You know how crazy she is about matrimonial traditions and whatever! You need to go, now!”

Dean gulped as though just now noticing your mom's echoing voice and high heels clicking against the floor. How was that more threatening than the howls of the werewolves he used to kill?

“Dean!” you pleaded when he didn't move.

He glanced at you with desperate eyes, suddenly paralyzed with fear. “What? I can't go through the front door, she'll see me!”

“Are you afraid of my mom?” you say incredulously, a frown abruptly sharpening your painted features. 

Dean glared at you in exhaustion. “You aren't?” 

“That's not the point!” You groaned. Dean seemed to finally catch up to the idea, abruptly making a beeline to the dressing room encircled with thick velvet curtains the color of spilled wine. “What are you doing?”

He gestured wildly, clearly with only one goal in mind: hide. “Getting in the dressing room!”

“All the others besides mine are occupied!” you hiss sharply, because you’ve been trying on gowns of all shapes and sizes long enough now to know the drill. You pointed to the ostentatiously large gown you were wearing. “They’ll see you once I go back in to change out of this.” 

Dean looked you up and down, a completely inappropriate smirk growing on his lips when you were about thirty seconds away from getting caught violating the imagined laws of matrimony. “I wouldn't mind seeing you change this. I can even help you to-”

“Dean!” you hissed as an idea struck. What else could you do? You weren't signing up for a two-hour-long lecture about the importance of tradition for your own wedding, but there was no other place you could hide Dean in. Your mom's voice was progressively getting closer and closer. What you did next was a desperate yet necessary measure. “Get under me.”

Dean's brows knitted together incredulously. “What?”

“You heard me! This thing is so big it’ll hide you,” you exclaimed in a lower tone than your nervousness desired, denoting the excessively billowy dress. You lifted the smoothly flared skirt just enough not to show your panties and barked: “Get inside, now!”

Dean shot you a wink before dutifully doing what he was told. “That's what she said.”

You just rolled your eyes at his muffled retort, beginning to question why you had agreed to marry him in the first place. 

It didn't take longer than ten seconds for your mom and Cecilia to pop up. The latter held a bundle of dresses in diversified shades of white before settling them on the Victorian-esque marble top table, sighing in relief at the final release of her admittedly heavy burden. 

“Honey, we brought you five siren cuts!” Your mom, though, had an excited smile on, already grabbing one of the many dresses and pushing it into your arms. “Try this!”

Cecilia gave you a friendly smile, gesturing to the long, silken dress you’d just been given. “This one is from Mattel's new collection.”

Dean shifted under your gown, his spiked hair tickling your leg. He was a big man, so you knew this was difficult for him too. You gulped, heart pounding like a drum inside of your chest while you tried to come up with a request to keep them away long enough for you to get rid of Dean.

Glancing around the classy room, your eyes caught a myriad of vibrantly colorful dresses swaying on a rack next to the wall of mirrors. This was it. This was your out.

Your gaze landed back on the two women in front of you. The icy current from the air conditioner combing through your hair didn't help the blood running cold in your veins. You swallowed the lump in your throat and wore your best poker face. 

Was this how Dean felt when he had to lie for a job when he was a hunter? You didn't know, but what you knew for sure was how his greedy fingers felt pulling your panties to the side when he was hiding under your improbably enormous wedding dress in the middle of an ostentatious clothing store.

“They all look so pretty,” you said, suppressing your scoff as Dean pecked your thigh, “but I was thinking about red ones?”

Cecilia opened her mouth to respond, but your mom was quicker. With a shocked expression and her hand resting dramatically on chest, she said: “Red?! That's not a color for a ceremony in the church.”

You were ready to offer her a swift retort as this was your wedding, not hers, but Dean's kisses kept rising higher and higher. Son of a bitch! You’d kill him if it didn't feel so good. You were already wet, momentarily losing track of space and time. Everything with him felt like the comfortable warmth of afterglow.

That is, until your mother brought you back down to earth with an admonishingly chide tone: “Y/N!”

“I just want to see how it fits me. Please.” You knew he was purposely ignoring your pussy, kissing near it but never getting to the point. You placed you hand on the part of the dress that his head would be, pushing him a little closer. The next word wasn’t meant for your entourage, but it made sense anyway: “Please.”

Cecilia curved the corner of her lips in sympathy. “Of course. We just got a new package a few days ago. I think they will fit you perfectly!”

Dean's lips kissed your heat. You bit your bottom lip to control a moan, summoning a nod interlaced with a tight smile for Cecilia. You doubted you were able to come up with anything else more coherent than Dean and more right now.

“I'll make sure it isn't too red!” You mom huffed, following the worker as she turned away to grab what you asked for.

Dean's hand held onto your leg as he started to lick in slowly, savoring your taste. He had to be controlling himself carefully, staving down his own desire to go deep and eat you out hungrily like he usually did.

You watched the pair leave, impatience fraying your scattered thoughts. You clenched down tightly, trying to force his tongue out of you as you waited for your mother to leave. Unfortunately, she stopped in the middle of the aisle to abandon Cecilia in favor of another worker swathed in a collection of bridal veils. Too risky. Maybe pushing him to the door would be better long term than having Dean to go down on you right now, but it certainly wouldn’t be as pleasurable. 

You decided to consider this one of the little adventures pre-marriage: the eldest Winchester was now licking his way inside you, fingertips sinking into your skin as he pressed his mouth and tongue against your wetness.

God, you loved that man.

“Thought you'd like to see some options without your mom.” Cecilia's voice out of nowhere almost made you jump, but you were able to restrain yourself. The fear of getting caught suddenly putting your body in place again, but Dean wasn't having any of it. As soon as you forced a giggle out to answer her, his mouth was on your pussy again.

“Yeah, she can be a little controlling.” You coughed. At least you could use the subject to excuse your discomfort.

You could practically feel Dean's smile on your pussy as he sucked your clit, wriggling his finger inside you. You pressed the hand on the other side of the thick curtain of fabric of his head down harder — for anyone else, it would look like this gesture coupled with your heated expression meant that the dress was uncomfortably hot.

At least, Cecilia thought so. With an understanding, saleswoman grin, she asked: “Do you want help to take the dress off?”

“No!” you almost screamed. It felt good to actually expel the noises you were withholding, even if it was on accident. “I mean, no. No, thank you. I'll take it off myself and try this red one — Can you keep my mom distracted for a couple minutes? She wouldn't like to see me in this.”

Coming up with a lie while your fiancé was sucking your clit and fingering you, checked.

“All for the bride.” Cecilia winked at you and left.

It took a couple seconds for you to regain some self control. With every ounce of willpower you had, you forced yourself to lift your dress and push Dean away from your trembling legs.

“What are you doing?” you asked, glancing at his face. That idiot wore a cocky smile on and had the audacity to lick his lips.

“What? You can't tell me to get between your legs and not eat you out. I'm a good soon-to-be husband.” He winked.

“You're unbelievable.” You sighed, shaking your head. “Hurry up and make me come, and don't get the dress dirty. Cecilia might be able to keep my mom away for like, five minutes. Do a good job.”

Dean chuckled, not able to discern if he was confusing reality and porn again or if this was actually happening, but your taste on his lips was evidence enough to make it uncontestible. He gave you a loving gaze despite everything before coming back to finish what he started. This was it, that was his girl.

“I can't wait to marry you.”

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[seiyasabi]

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

(This is a Yandere Pakunoda x Female Reader story! To be completely honest, she could trip me down some steps and I’d still UWU!!!

TW; Reader is lowkey easy to manipulate so that may be annoying!, babies you alot !!!!, Manipulation!, !Use of a strap!, Consensual sex!, Use of a Mommy kink!!, light domming!, Stockholm syndrome!!!!, etc.

Please proceed with caution! If this is too OOC, I apologise! She’s lowkey a comfort character for me lol) 

“Look at my pretty girl, so precious,” Your blond lover pinches your cheeks lightly between thumb and forefinger, a flush coating your cheeks. Currently, you’re sitting in her lap, trying to make up for lost time. She recently got back from a ‘work trip,’ and it seems like you both missed each other very much. 

“Paku,” You gasp, feeling her remove her hand from your face, only to settle them on your ass. She squeezes lightly, chuckling at your surprised face. 

“What is it? Can I not touch my beautiful wife?” Smiling bashfully, you bury your head in her plush chest, cuddling close to her. You want to be on her good side, especially when you wish to ask her for something that she’s sure to become angry at. 

“Paku, can I- can I ask you a question?” She reaches a hand up to caress the back of your head, a light smile gracing her features.

“Of course,” Pakunoda murmurs absentmindedly, cradling you closer than before. 

“Is it ok if I top tonight?” Your fingers fiddle with her shirt, as you avoid eye contact. Her chest rumbles with her chuckles, reaching a hand up to grab your chin, she forces you to look her in the eye. 

“My darling pillow princess wishes to top tonight?” Raising a perfect eyebrow, she continues to laugh, “Don’t be ridiculous. You belong under me, Sweetie, not above me. Look at you, you can’t even look me in the eye whilst asking.” 

You flush in embarrassment, trying in vain to move away from her, “Never mind, then,” You pout, crossing your arms over your chest. Paku practically coos at your adorable expression, quickly flipping you so your back is now on the mattress. She straddles your thighs, her hands quickly starting to unbutton your pyjama shirt, exposing your bare chest. 

“Look at your pretty chest,” She cradles your (size) tits, smiling at your bashful face. 

“Paku-“ She gives you a stern look, causing you to whine, “Mommy, why won’t you let me? I just wanna try!” She chuckles some more, lightly pinching your nipples. 

“No, Baby. You know that you’re a pillow princess at heart, just let Mommy take care of you,” You give a final huff, before nodding. 

“Fine,” You pout a little longer, before giving her a pretty smile, “I missed you.” 

She gives your tits another squeeze, “I missed you too, Sweetie. Now, let me show you just how much I yearned for you.” 

Her slender hands lightly pull on the sleeves of your shirt, helping you out of its long sleeves. Your top half is now completely exposed, causing her eyes to glint in predator-like glee. Moving to your spandex clad thighs, Pakunoda can’t help but love how the slightly too-tight shorts cause the fat of your thighs to squish out. She lightly pinches it between two manicured fingers, making you gasp prettily. 

“So adorable for Mommy,” She ghosts over your covered mound, pulling at the fabric so it can bunch up in your slit, “Is my sweet girl not wearing any panties?” You cover your face with your hands, trying to cover your blush. 

“Yes, Mommy,” She releases the spandex to uncover your face, placing multiple smooches all over it. 

“Dirty girl,” The blond smiles down at you, pushing your hands down on the mattress by your head, “Keep these here, Sweetie. If you move them, I’ll have to punish you.”

You nod rapidly, not moving your wrists from that spot, “Yes, Mommy,” Her hands trail down your sides, lightly pinching down on some spots. Once at your waist, she grips the hem of your shorts, before shucking them down your legs. 

Paku can’t help but salivate at the sight of your bare cunny. Running a slender finger up your slit, she collects your juices, and holds it up to show you, “Look at this! Has my little Baby played with her pussy without her Mommy?” 

You shake your head no, a pleading look on your innocent face, “No, Mommy! I promise! I haven’t touched myself, I’m just excited to see you!” She sticks the slick covered finger into her mouth, tasting your essence. Her eyes practically roll to the back of her head, you taste wonderful. 

Gazing down at you, she smirks, “I believe you. But, I have to make sure my Baby doesn’t touch herself, don’t I? What do you want, Sweetie? Do you want Mommy’s strap? Or maybe a cute, little vibrator on your pretty cunny?” 

“I want your strap, Mommy! Please fill me up!” At your words, she shoves two finger into your wet pussy, immediately fucking them into you with a ‘come hither’ motion. A surprised moan escapes your throat, causing your Mommy to chuckle. 

“Don’t act too surprised, Sweetie. Mommy needs to open you up before she fucks you,” Her thumb rests on your clit, rubbing insync with her ministrations. Your cunny practically gushes around her fingers when she finds your g-spot, causing her to focus on that one spot. 

Your moans and cries are music to Pakunoda’s ears, and he can’t help but bring you into a heated kiss. Her tongue massages yours, swapping your spit with each other. Her soft lips mold with yours, swallowing your noises down. The feeling of her fingering your cunny and her plush lips on yours causes you to orgasm prematurely. Your juices squirt out like a geyser, soaking her hand, pelvis, and sheets below you. 

Separating from the kiss, you look down at you and your now soaked wife with a gasp, “I’m sorry! I promise I didn’t do it on purpose-” She shushes you softly, looking down on you tenderly. 

“It’s alright, pretty girl,” She reaches down to her now soaked plum coloured mini-skirt, zipping it open, and sliding it off of her frame. Her black lace panties are now exposed to you, as she quickly strips out of the rest of her outfit. Her large breasts now exposed, he grins down at your flushed form, “You just helped Mommy strip faster,” She kisses your forehead, “And you looked so sexy squirting all over me, I’ll make sure you do it again when I fuck your cunny open.”

She shifts towards your bedside table, opening the bottom drawer, and fishing out her double sided strap-on. She sets it on your shared bed, before shutting the drawer, and turning her attention back onto you. 

“Mommy, can I please taste you? Please” She chuckles at your eagerness, but shakes her head. Paku strokes your head tenderly, giving you another kiss.

“No, Sweetie. I’m supposed to be pleasuring you, not the other way around. How could I be your Mommy if I let you raise a single finger? Hmm?” Pouting, you nod in understanding. 

“Can I please have another kiss?” The blond smiles, nodding yes. 

“Of course,” She gives you a long, closed lip smooch, before sitting up tall, and sliding off her panties. Once off, she eases a long finger into her soaked pussy. She slowly fucks herself open, easing in a second, then a third. Keeping her moans to a minimum, she grinds down on her hand, creating an erotic scene above you.

Her juices drip onto you, running down the curves of your hips. Once she deems herself wet enough, Paku grabs the strap, untying the sides like a swimming suit. Lining up the inside dildo with her dripping pussy, she pushes it inside with a small moan. Now fully seated on the dildo, she ties the strings of the harness, and shifts farther up your pelvis. Grabbing a black remote from the top of your bedside table, she turns on the vibrating function of her dildo, immediately stimulating her gummy walls. Using all of her self control, she tries not to moan. 

“Are you ready, little one?” You glance down at the plum coloured cock, you gulp. You’d forgotten how big her strap was. It has many bulging veins, a very thick girth, and it is about eight inches long, “Is baby scared?”

“No, Mommy. Please, I want it! I want it so bad!” She grins down at you, and quickly slots her lower half between your thighs, her own thighs above yours. Using a free hand, she guides the cock to your weeping entrance. With one powerful thrust, she seats the entire thing inside your pussy. A loud whine rattles your chest, as you try to adjust to its size. 

“Is my baby’s cunny full?” She bucks her hips into yours, causing your clit to rub against the leather of her strap. A pitiful moan escapes your mouth, causing Paku to laugh, “Awe, you’re already so fucked out, and I barely did anything.” 

You whimper out a, “Please, Mommy,” Prompting her to pull out until only the tip is inside, before slamming down her hips again. Hearing you keen in pleasure is enough to cause her to fuck into you violently. 

She sets a hard, fast pace, your juices flying everywhere. Practically humping into you, Paku grinds the tip into your cervix, causing another gush of slick to splash out of your poor cunny. 

“You’re taking me to good, Sweetie,” Paku’s own juices coat the inside of her harness, as she tries her best not to cum at the sight of your fucked out face. 

“Mu-Mommy!” She starts pinching at your tits, rolling them between her fingers, whilst propelling her hips into your at rapid pace. 

“Yes? Is there something you need?” She teases, not stopping for a single moment. 

You can feel the coil in your tummy tightening, signalling your oncoming release. Tears stream down your face at the intense feeling of pleasure, as you practically scream, “Please, please let me cum! Please!” She places a kiss on your drooly lips, squeezing the fat of your tits in both hands. 

“Hmm, I don’t know, should you cum? Have you been a good baby for Mommy tonight?” You practically sob at her words, trying to stop your orgasm. 

“Yes, yes! I-I’ve been good! Please! Please!” Dropping a hand down to your clit, she starts rubbing against your nub in hard, fast movement, mirroring her thrusts. 

“Go ahead, Sweetie, cum for Mommy!” With a loud cry, you cum. Your orgasm is so great, that your squirt launches the dildo out of your slick cunny, smacking against Pakunoda’s stomach, and launching her into her own orgasm. Her own moan is heard throughout the room, as she brings you into another heated kiss. It’s all tongue and spit, but it’s amazing, nonetheless. Whilst doing so, she flicks off the constant vibration inside of her, giving her relief from overstimulation. 

Breaking away from your mouth, she huffs out a small chuckle, “You’re so pretty, all fucked out and adorable.”

You can barely keep your eyes open at this point, but you dutifully anwer her, “Thank you, Mommy,” She lightly pinches your cheek, smooching your forehead. 

“Go ahead and sleep, I’ll take care of you,” Nodding, you almost instantly nod off. 

Pakunoda smiles to herself, as she looks down at you. You’re her picture perfect darling, so sweet, pretty, and kind. 

She almost feels bad that she manipulated you into dropping everyone you knew. You always trust so freely, and unfortunately for you, you trusted the wrong person. Now, the only person you talk to is her, and when she’s off on missions, you’re practically in solitary confinement. The only difference is that you’re able to freely move around your shared apartment. 

But, she knows that you’ll never leave her. You’re too in love with her to ever do something so silly. You also know of her profession, so it would be foolish to run away. If she can’t find you, then one of the Spiders can. 

Sighing in content, Pakunoda stands to her feet. 

It’s time to clean you up, seeing as only she can properly take care of you, because your cute baby self already passed out. 

Giving your head a light pat, she stalks off to the ensuite bathroom, carefully untying the harness tied around her waist.