#tw rape/noncon elements

[storyweaverofgondor]

Summary: The kitsune takes over and the wolf isn't complaining. Scott and Kira don't have any say in the matter.

[cheekycheesecake01]

Angsty smut headcanons I made up of Mark Grayson. Please read disclaimer. 18+

DISCLAIMER & TW: Before I get into this, I wanna say that I am extremely new to the Invincible fandom and will be utilizing the canon events in the comic book series. For this reason, SA is mentioned, and as a victim myself, I believe that completely isolating rape victims from any source of sexual media reinforces the idea that we are nothing beyond our traumas. I shouldn't have to explain myself, and I won't elaborate any further. But sexuality can still thrive even after one is assaulted.

TW: Rape mentioned, sexual trauma, highlights of a victim's mental state afterwards including self-blaming, please filter this post if this is upsetting, I understand. This is by no means a noncon fic, these headcanons are about the aftermath of being assaulted and how it affects victims lives.

Please note that this is my first time ever openly writing about a character who is canonically a victim of sexual assault. I don't want to censor us out of media. We shouldn't be objectfied, but we shouldn't be treated as though we're broken or unable to be more than something that happened to us beyond our control. If you want to give me feedback, I'm very much welcoming of it. But understand that I'm not fetishizing Mark's trauma in any way, shape or form. In fact, I find him comforting, because I can relate to some elements of his story. This is supposed to acknowledge Mark's lore and to comfort the disturbed.

It's difficult for Mark to engage in anything after Anissa. But after a few therapy sessions, he did want to try again since... well, he loves you... and before she raped him, sex was a way for him to express his affection in the most intimate way possible.

It's not like the other cases where Mark takes control, because the thought of doing anything paralyzes him. What would be good for him? If it feels good, is it supposed to feel good or is he just convincing himself that it feels good? Did he even want this? Or did he coerce himself into thinking he wanted it?

You make sure to praise him whenever because you understand how difficult this is for him. You tell how strong he is for choosing to do this, how you love him so much, how you could be his hero, how he doesn't always have to do the saving.... you could save him. You could protect him... no matter the cost.

Everything feels like it's vanishing or falling apart.... but here, he has you to hold onto and trust. You're not like his father, or his enemies, or.... her.... god knows what you'd do to protect him. At last, everything feels manageable.... because he's got a hero flying him up to heaven.

[stringcheezeislife]

Filthy Fixation

Mr Reed x Fem!Reader [18+]

Summary: You've been stalking Mr. Reed, your charming neighbor for a few months now… your little crush spiraling quickly into obsession. One particular snowy evening, you decide to fulfill your filthy desires; whether he wanted to or not.

TW: smut, age gap, dubcon/noncon elements, rape, unhinged reader, hostage, drugging, bdsm-ish, torture, bound, gagged, blindfolded, sensory deprivation, manipulation, power play, oral fixation, aphyxiation, getting stepped on, role reversal, hate fuck.

Words: 10.9k

One-shot.

Also available in ao3

[erm. it's a bit dark so be warned. enjoy!]

-**-

Knock, knock.

You knocked on the door of your neighbour, Mr. Reed. The entrance stood tall and imposing, the door arching peculiarly. The pathway littered with snow and leaves, worn in a way that’s comfy, yet strangely gloomy. You glance at the closed curtains, wondering when he would appear. You clutch the heavy basket in your arms. 

Your gaze wanders, caught by the strange beauty of his home’s architecture. It stood apart from the others in the neighborhood– grand yet slightly unsettling. Gated bars surround the property, its ornate pattern catching the eyes of anyone passing by. Though, it was the dense trees inside the yard that truly concealed the place, wrapping it in a veil of mystery and keeping the world at a distance– away from prying eyes. At first glance, it may have seemed like any other well-kept home, inviting even, but you knew better. If others knew what you knew... 

Finally, you see a silhouette shuffling behind the glass window of the door. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself. A few moments later, the door swung open and the bewildered head of Mr. Reed poked out. His grey hair disheveled, as if not expecting company. His eyebrows scrunched cutely as his eyes adjusted slightly from the blinding porch lights, before adjusting and focusing on you. 

“Ah, it’s you.” He smiled, finally opening the door fully, exposing the interior of his home. “I should’ve known, nobody else knocks when there’s a fully functional doorbell right over here .” He points toward the doorbell, eyes twinkling.

“Well, you know me, Mr. Reed. I’m not just anyone . I’m sure there are plenty others who do so as well.” You tease, adjusting the basket around your arms. His eyes follow your movement, and finally notices the large wicker basket. 

“What’s this?” He asked.

“Some baked pastries, a few croissants, some tarts– I didn’t know if you liked sweets so I made others too. The bread is fresh out of the oven, so I’m hoping it’ll still be warm on my way here.” You touch the top covered with a checkered cloth, feeling the warmth emanating from it. “Yep, still is. Take it, it’s for you."

He gapes, clearly baffled. “For… me?”

“Yeah, you. Who else is here? Your wife?” You look pointedly at the ring on his finger. He notices, and lets out a laugh. You both knew why he wore it, and it wasn’t for marital reasons.

“Well, thank you dear. You’re very kind.” His smile never falters, though at times it looked farce, exaggerated. You held it up for him to take and he did, cradling it in his arms like a baby.

“May I ask, though. Did you really bake these yourself?” You nod. “That’s amazing, absolutely wonderful– oh wow, these look scrumptious.” 

You beam, proud and basking in the compliments. You thank him.

“What’s the occasion?” He asked again, quizzically looking at you. “It’s the middle of January– I don’t think there’s a celebration that would merit this sort of gift.”

“I had some extras left from the batches I made for my niece’s birthday.” You shrugged. “Thought it’d be nice to share– spread a little kindness, you know?”

“Well, well– nothing like being the lucky beneficiary of a niece’s birthday leftovers.” He grins, “Should I be flattered or concerned about where I rank on the gift-giving hierarchy?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic– you’re at least in the top five. Besides, I figured you’d appreciate a treat without the hassle of a party hat.” You gesture toward the basket with a grin. “Just don’t expect me to start singing ‘Happy Birthday’ – I have my limits.”

Mr. Reed huffs a quiet laugh, lifting the basket slightly as if weighing its worth. His amusement deepens as he takes in just how full it is.

“This…” You perk up. “might be a bit much, don’t you think?” He glances down the large basket, filled to the brim with various pastries and bread. “I might not even finish these till next christmas, dear.” He chuckles. Then, with a glance at the sky– where snow was starting to fall heavier– he shifts his stance, as if making up his mind.

“Listen, why don’t you come inside?” He says, already stepping aside. “The snow’s getting heavier, and you could help me with finishing these.” He joked, pointedly looking at the pastries. “Consider it quality control. ”

You chuckle, though not moving an inch from the porch. His blue eyes flicker to you, and he then places a hand over his heart, gesturing dramatically.

“What, you don’t mind sticking around with this old man for the evening, do you?” He looks at you with wide eyes; expectantly, almost like a puppy waiting for attention. “ Surely a sweet lady like you wouldn’t want all this food to go to waste.” 

You fake contemplation, looking into the distance with a hand perched on your hip. You pause for a few beats, dragging out the moment, before beaming out a toothy grin. “Eh, sure why not.” 

“Excellent! Come on then, come in.” Gesturing into his home, you step foot into his warm living room. 

The interior was as inviting, the warm lights contrasting the cold winter outside. You’ve been here a few times, though never past the living room. Never past the pleasantries, past being acquaintances. 

Recently, you’ve both bonded on your mutual interest of academia. Something you’ve picked on the previous visits. It quickly spiraled into something deeper, an actual interest, and you’ve learned about him more than the past few years you’ve been neighbours. 

It was almost unfair– he’d always been charming but speaking to him left you utterly enthralled. He knew just what words to say; plucking your strings– as if playing you like a fiddle. 

It wasn’t your intellect kink’s doing for sure– well, maybe that’s only half of the reason why. And surely not your daddy issues, isn’t it? Whatever the reason, Mr. Reed just has the quiet magnetism that draws you in, and without you noticing– you’re already in his trap. Hooked. Obsessed . 

Your infatuation with Mr Reed is not entirely his fault, though. That’s just how you’ve always been. If something, or in this case, someone– catches your eye, it lingers, gnaws at you until you’ve had your fill. And tonight, seeing him in his casual wear, eyes bleary as if he’d just been napping and hair tousled that frames his handsome face– you’re not sure if you can hold it in anymore.

Placing down the wicker basket on the coffee table, he offers to take your coat. You smile and nod, taking it off to reveal the almost translucent white tank top underneath. 

He raises an eyebrow as he watches, eyes flickering up and down your body– something you wouldn’t have catched if your eyes weren’t on him already. “Well, looks like someone’s committed to the idea that warmth is overrated. Who needs it when you've got… boldness?" 

You smirk, shrugging slightly. “Well, if I’m going to freeze, I might as well do it in style, don’t you think?” You lean back slightly, meeting his gaze. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I can handle the cold. I’ve been known to warm up even the iciest of situations– especially when the right company’s around."

He pauses, seeming surprised by your advances. “Well, I didn’t expect that kind of confidence.” He says, his tone still playful, a sly smile gracing his lips. “You’ve got a way of keeping me on my toes– maybe I’ll have to reconsider my earlier assumptions." 

You wink, and he shakes his head playfully as he heads inside to hang your coat. You flop down on the armchair facing the window, watching the trees outside swaying violently with the wind. You can’t help but notice that the weather was getting worse by the second.

That’s good. That means nothing would bother us. If there are others coming anyway… 

It was no secret that Mr. Reed was a recluse– the kind of man who lived on his own not by necessity, but by choice. He seemed happy, content to be by his lonesome. Occasionally, missionaries or a neighbour or two would pay him a visit. You’ve kept track of it through your windows. Most leave. Some didn’t. You’re sure of that. The camera you’ve kept facing his home to capture video tapes of him to add to your collage made sure of it. 

And he’s not that old, though he might be twice or thrice your age. Who knows? Who cares? Certainly not you.

You touch the top of your pockets that contain the chloroform-soaked handkerchief in a baggy. Leaning back into the armchair, you stretch out, toes curling in excitement. But you have to wait for the perfect moment to strike– a vulnerable moment. He’s quite strong for an older man– you’ve seen him carry a large trash bag almost his exact height effortlessly, so you need to be extra careful.

Mr Reed steps into the living room, the clicking of tea cups and silverware together resounding with each step. “Here we go, some fresh tea.” He places the tray on the coffee table as you clap excitedly. Taking a seat right next to you, he shares a smile watching your childishness. “You’re quite easily excitable aren’t you?”

You shoot him a look. “Nothing wrong with that. Life’s meant to be exciting. The little things, especially.” You pour the steaming hot tea into both your cups. “It’s not meant to be a meaningless string of jobs and responsibilities. We’re mammals! We’re meant to eat, hunt, and rest.” He looks at you, listening intently as you slide a cup towards him. 

“But no! We’re too occupied with our own problems that we can’t even enjoy life. What are we, ants? We’re so busy with our daily lives that we can’t even take a break from responsibilities– and all that hooey. If we’re meant to be working day and night, why not grow six legs and create a hive mind, why don’t we?” You huff, growing more irritated.

Mr Reed nods, an acknowledgement and a slight nudge for you to continue. You take a deep breath, calming your racing heart. You pause to think, and before you could continue, he cuts you off.

“If you think about it, aren’t we creatures created to chase our desires?” He inquires, “There’s one thing that we possess that separates us from other mammals– or any other living creature; intelligence. ”

“Right,” You nod excitedly. “Intelligence! Not only does it make us a better hunter– it creates a deep, insatiable hunger . A hunger for love, for attention, fame–” You pause. “ Greed. It makes us greedy.” You grip the cup in your hand tightly, “But that’s not wrong, is it? Greed is what drives us. Greed is the damn reason we’re much like ants in the first place.” You chuckle at the irony, looking deep into his downturned baby blue eyes. 

“We take what we need. We seize what we want. That’s just human nature.” You take a sip, keeping your gaze locked with his. “Don’t you agree, Mr Reed?”

He stares back at you, a flicker of something unrecognizable flashing through– hands on his chin, fingers on his lips. It then curves into a smile– a slight chill behind it. 

“That’s true.” he straightens, bringing the cup to his lips. “But you’ve forgotten something, dear. Mammals don’t just eat, sleep, and hunt.” 

You tilt your head. “What did I miss?”

He looks at you, a slight mirth in his eyes. “They also, well, excuse my french, fuck .”

“Oh, silly me. Of course! The most important aspect in the circle of life.” You roll your eyes, looking at him pointedly, a smirk tugging on the corner of your lips. “I wouldn’t expect you of all people to say that.”

He crinkles his eyebrows in confusion, clearly offended. “And what is that implying, hm?”

“Well, for starters, I’ve never seen you with anyone. Even that ring of yours,” The silver ring on his ring finger glints under the dim light. “it’s meant to ward off suitors, is it not? Though I don’t expect it to work out much. Considering your…” You trail off, eyes wandering to marvel at his handsome features. “charming personality.”

“Well, for the record I am perfectly capable of... fucking.” He clears his throat, looking away from you; ears tinged red. “I’ve had lots of experience with women in my younger years, believe it or not.” 

“So you still fuck?” 

“...Emphasis on younger years, darling. Now , I choose not to– academia has that kind of effect, whether you want to or not.” He chuckles, scratching his chin. “Research was the only thing on my mind back then. Theology , like I said before. Now, not so much.”  He mused, eyes wandering towards the back of his home. His tone grew darker, an uncanny smile gracing his lips. “I have… another endeavour in mind currently.”

You nod, pastries and tea completely forgotten. Before you could ask more, you’re startled by the ceiling lights flickering out with a loud click. Both of you plunge into darkness, only a small lamp illuminating the shadows. 

“My apologies, I forgot to tell you the lights are set on a timer.” He patted his knees and stood, heading off to turn the dial clockwise. The lights crackled back on. 

He strolls back to the coffee table nonchalantly, as if it were a normal occurrence. He sits back down next to you, picking up a pastry– an egg tart, munching on it delightfully. 

“I’m not one for sweets, but I’m a sucker for these.” He moans, cradling the pastry delicately on the palm of his hand. “You simply have to share your recipe, darling. I’m quite the baker myself; how did you make it so creamy?”

You look at him weirdly, annoyed that the topic of conversation changed quickly. Also, if you had known his love for egg tarts, you would’ve laced it before you came. It would’ve made everything so much easier. 

You hum discontentedly, reaching over to take a croissant for yourself. “Why don’t you tell me more about your research, Mr Reed?” He looks at you with surprise, munching on his second tart. “Surely, thirty years of research, all that effort, what did you find?”

He chews slowly, taking his time; contemplating. “I can answer that, but do you mind me asking a question first?” His tone casual, but it had a hint of something darker.

“Sure.” You nod, taking a bite of your croissant.

“Do you believe in god?” He questions, wiping away crumbs from the edge of his lips. “Of course, it’s a rhetorical question. But humour me–”

“No.” You cut him off, smiling sweetly. “There is no god for me.”

“Right,” He pauses, studying you, before clearing his throat. “Well. That’s understandable, really. Why bother believing in something that you can’t see, smell, or touch.” He exhales, shaking his head slightly. “So I’m guessing you’re a… correct me if I’m wrong– an atheist?”

“Not quite. I’m agnostic.”

“Damn.” He slaps his thigh in mock disappointment, a smirk curved on the corner of his lips. “Almost got it.” 

You tilt your head, enquiring for him to continue. 

“Yes! Well imagine this.” He leans forward, fingers thrumming excitedly against his knee. “A world teeming with belief systems, each with its own version of an ultimate truth. You’ve got your natural religions– those born from the earth, shaped by human instinct, folklore, and ritual. Then, there’s the big three– Judaism, Christianity, and Islam– the Abrahamic giants, sprawling across centuries, each claiming divine authority. Then the Dharmic paths– Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism– more focused on cycles, karma, liberation. And, of course, the existentialists, the nihilists, the deists, the pantheists… so many flavors of faith, each offering something, yet none with irrefutable proof.”

He pauses dramatically, eyes locked on you. Then, his voice drops lower, his smile turning contemplative.

“But you only believe in yourself? Admirable.” He nods, as if seeing something familiar in you. “I was once like you– skeptical, questioning, clawing for reason in the void. If God exists, why suffering? If He sees all, knows all, then why apathy? Is He merely watching– our feasts, our sorrows, our little indulgences? Omniscience as divine voyeurism.” A dry chuckle escapes him. “It never sat right with me.”

He exhales, gaze drifting into some distant memory. “So, I turned to books; scriptures, philosophies, esoteric texts. If I couldn’t find God, I’d find the idea of Him.” 

He takes a sip, with you nodding slightly, bored out of your mind. “Thirty years of study, devouring the words of prophets and scholars alike, searching for meaning.” 

He looks back at you, his smile sharpening. “Perhaps you know these things already. Perhaps you’re one of them – the ones who pretend not to seek, but secretly, deep down, are hoping for answers.”

You blink.

He smirks, tapping his temple. “See, people like you? They think they’re immune. Too rational, too clever. But the truth is, when you strip everything away– when the walls close in, when the silence stretches too long– everyone, eventually, starts whispering prayers.”

He leans back, watching you, waiting for your reaction.

“That’s… very interesting, Mr. Reed.” You nod lazily, leaning back into your chair. “But I gotta stop you there.”

He pauses. “What seems to be the problem?” His eyebrows knitted.

“Can you show me where the bathroom is? It seems that I drank a bit too much tea.” You pout, squirming on your seat. 

“Oh.” He deflated slightly, perhaps disappointed. “Of course, dear.” Nodding, he led the way deeper into his home. He led you past the dark hallway, and gestured to the wooden door with a quaint sign hanging from a nail in cursive; ‘Bathroom'. 

You went in and did your business, the stark contrast inside unsettling you. The ivory tiles gleam under the light, pristine, sterile– too pristine. It feels more like a surgical room than a place for something as mundane as washing your hands.

You shake the thought away, stepping towards the sink. Cold water splashes on your face as you watch your reflection. A smile formed on your lips, one you don’t remember forming. Have you been smiling like that this whole time…?

You feel your blood pumping, adrenaline spiking through your body. 

Patience. Just a little more.

You put your hand in your pocket, playing with the baggy in your hands. The crinkle is deafening to you, but you keep your face neutral as you turn the door knob. You flinch, noticing a dark figure looming next to the door.

He startled you. You find him leaning beside the bathroom door with his arms crossed, watching.

The dim lighting casts sharp shadows along his face, but that ever-present, polite smile remains. You smile back awkwardly, hoping he didn't hear the crinkling of the baggy.  

“Monthly business, I assume?” He muses, his voice smooth, easy.

You nod awkwardly. A lie. 

“I hope you dispose of it properly. There is a specific bin in there, in case of… guests.” A pause, deliberate. “Like you.”

Your jaw clenches. Something about his tone irks you; it makes your fingers twitch, itching to punch the smirk off his face. Instead, you watch as he turns, heading toward the living room as if the conversation was mere small talk.

“Does that mean you get lots of guests, then?” You call out, leaning back against the bathroom door. “Women, especially?”

His steps falter. Just slightly.

He glances back at you. For a second you catch it– a flash of surprise, then something unreadable. You don't know what your expression looks like right now, but you're sure of the feeling burning in your heart. Jealousy. 

His back still facing you, he looks forward; a solemn silence lingering. His posture shifts, tension creeping in where it hadn’t been before.

“...Yes.” He finally spoke out. “Like I said. Guests.” A pause. “It would be rude not to accommodate to your needs, no?”

Your lips curl.

“Kinda strange, don’t you think? Considering you barely have anyone visiting you.” You retort, crossing your arms. “I would know that– I'm your neighbor after all. And isn't it weird, a lone bachelor, yet having a waste bin specifically for… women’s menstrual troubles?”

His back is still turned, but you don’t need to see his face to know you’ve struck a nerve.

“No wife, no daughters, no family. Zip, zilch, nada.” Your eyes lock on his troubled figure, watching for the smallest reactions. “It’s nice of you, though. Thoughtful. But it does bring up some questions, don't you think?” You push off the doorframe, tilting your head. “Just… something to think about.” 

Your tone is light, but the weight of your words linger. You see it in the way his shoulders stiffen. The way his fingers flex slightly before stilling. His silence only tempts you to push further.

A beat. Then another.

“You could be the most considerate bachelor in the whole world,” You say, stepping closer, taunting, voice mocking. “or a weird, creepy pervert .” 

His breath is steady, but his muscles are not. You wonder how much you could push before he snaps.

You reach out, trailing your fingers on the fabric of his shirt before jabbing them sharply into his lower back. He flinches.

“Mr. Reed, the neighborhood pervert.” You mock, sing-song. “Has a nice ring, don’t you think?”

His fingers twitch– subtle, but telling.

“I wonder what the others would say.” Your voice lilts, dripping with mockery. “Oh, what a scandal! A pervert in our midst! What could he be up to? Stealing underwear? Lurking in the shadows?” You feel your adrenaline pumping, patience wearing thin. “Does he lure women into his home? I bet he does. I bet, he keeps them tucked away in his basement– indulging in his sick, twisted urges– ”

A sharp exhale.

Your pulse spikes. The tension between you tightens– like a wire stretched taut, waiting to snap. His posture stiffens– just slightly. But it was enough.

Fuck waiting. Take the bait.

Another sigh– measured, composed. But when he finally turns to glance at you, his mask slips. His smile is gone.

“Honestly,” He murmured, voice quieter now. “you're being ridiculous. All that… just from a sanitary bin? You jump–” 

You don't let him finish.

Before he could turn to face you, you strike. The laced handkerchief slams on his face, pressing hard as he gasps– forcing him to breathe in the chloroform. 

He claws at you, trashing, twisting, jerking– wringing his body from side to side to break free from your grasp, but you held on tight. Arms and legs locked tight around his torso, riding his violent resistance as he bucks like a wild animal. His strength was terrifying, but you don’t let go. You just had to ride it out until the fume went up his head.

It didn't take long. His grip weakened, his strength faltering, movement sluggish, until at last– he finally lay limp. 

You crash on the floor with him with a thump, sending a sharp pain through your head as it hits the wooden floor. His body weight nearly crushes you, but you don't let go– not yet. 

For a moment, you just lay there, panting. Months of training– it finally paid off. He struggled hard– slamming you onto walls, bruising your back and shoulder– you can feel the forming bruises pulsing. But it didn’t matter.

Finally, he’s yours. 

Still in your arms, you press a lingering kiss on top of his head, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, pressing him flush against you. He doesn't resist. Can’t resist. 

For a moment, you just breathe him in. The faint scent of his cologne, the heat of his skin seeping into yours– his warm body heavy against your chest. You can’t stop grinning, it almost hurts.

You savour the moment, only the raging winds outside accompanying the silence. The wind howls, rattling the windows. But inside, it’s quiet. Just you and him.

Finally.

–**–

Darkness ebbed away in suffocating waves, giving way to a dull, throbbing ache behind his eyes. Consciousness crept back in fragments, a sharp pulse in his skull, the distant howl of wind, the faintest sensation of warmth against his skin. His fingers twitched. Wrong. Everything felt wrong.

His breath hitched as he tried to move, his limbs were sluggish, heavy– uncooperative. A haze clung to his thoughts, thick and unnatural, but panic gnawed through the fog with sharp, gnashing teeth. Where—?

A scent, too close. A presence, too near. Then– a voice. Low, and dripping with satisfaction.

“You’re awake?”

His stomach turned cold.

He tried to move, but couldn't. His arms were bound. Thick rope dug into his skin with every flex of his muscles. His legs, too, were just as useless. 

A blindfold covered his eyelids, suffocating his eyes with darkness. Worst of all– something was in his mouth. A gag, holding down his tongue, choking down any words before it could form.

Shaking the fog in his head, his mind races– assessing the situation. Memory fragments piecing back together one by one. 

You. The struggle. Your arms around his before falling unconscious.

It’s all coming back to him now. 

He steadies his breath, keeping his composure. He dared not show any weakness– not giving you the satisfaction of protesting outright. After all, that’s what you wanted isn’t it? To see him falter, to see him sweat?

He doesn’t answer, keeping his silence.

“Hm. Silent treatment? You’re not being a good host here, Mr. Reed.” You muse, a playful tone in your voice. You crept around him, drinking in the sight of his bound and gagged figure.

“Hope you slept well,” A finger– your finger– trails on his jaw, featherlight, testing. “You were out for quite a while. I was starting to think I might’ve overdone it.”

He tensed. Your touch trails lower, down to the column of his throat, where his pulse thrummed frantically beneath the skin. His composure remained still, but his body betrayed him.

You huff a quiet laugh. “Oh, don’t be scared,” Your fingers tilt his chin up to face you, though the blindfold covers his sight. “I’d never hurt you. Not unless I have to.”

You sigh, almost wistfully. 

“I really like you, Mr. Reed.” You perch on the table of his office, with him facing you. He was sat on his office chair; plush, soft. You were kind enough to plop him there, instead of the hard steel chair you found in his creepy basement. “Even if you’re kind of messed up.”

He’s been unconscious long enough for you to explore his home– a labyrinth, with doors locked from the inside. You had always found it strange, how Mr. Reed had always been the one to unlock the door for you. 

It was never your hand in the doorknob.

The miniature model of his house in the office gives you an idea on what’s going on in his house of horrors– the pseudo-church. The dark, damp basement. The room with cages– you could only guess what– or whom– he kept in it.

The pseudo-church, though? That had been something else. It was… extravagant. Lavish.

A shrine to his own ego, you realize.

Religious texts lined the shelves, vinyl records stacked meticulously, and idols perched like spectators to his grand performance. A man so obsessed with his own image– of course, he had a place like this. A perfect set for a perfect facade.

You wonder who it is he’s shown it to.

You ran your fingers through his hair, grazing his scalp, caressing it softly, slow, deliberate. He shudders. A soft sound slipped past his lips, barely audible behind the gag.

Why wasn’t it you?

Trailing your fingers down to his ears, to the back of his neck– a sensitive spot– he couldn’t help but let out a gasp. Goosebumps rise under your touch, following every trail. With your arms looped around his neck– you pull.

The chair wheeled forward, colliding his body with yours.

Why didn’t he choose you?

You held him there, his face buried against your chest. Soft strokes ran through his hair, delicate, almost loving. He melts slightly in your arms, letting down his guard.

Then, you whisper, your voice barely a breath into his ear. “You don’t know how much it hurt me,” Your arms tighten. “Seeing those women coming into your home.”

You grabbed the back of his head, pushing him further– deeper into you. He struggled, body jerking against yours, muffled protests swallowed by the gag. His breath hitched, sharp and desperate as he fought against the suffocating warmth of your embrace. But you only held him closer. 

“I wonder…” You murmur, the flames of jealousy burning. “Do they struggle like this?” Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, just to see him gasp for air. “Do they fight back? Or do they just… give in?” You pushed him back in, pressing him closer, feeling his body tenses against yours. 

Seeing him like this; his breath uneven– shallow gasps, muffled by the gag, warm against your skin– it was intoxicating. His body trembled, muscles coiled in protest. He struggles against the restraints– not violently, not yet– but enough that you can feel his frustration bleed through.

For a moment, you enjoy it. 

The great Mr. Reed– always so composed, so charming, with that unreadable, infuriating smile– now bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Just for your eyes. No witty remarks. No charming deflections. Just his ragged breathing, and the small, involuntary twitches of his fingers.

You exhale softly, running your nails behind the back of his neck, delighting the way he shudders beneath your touch. His pulse thrums faster underneath your fingers. You tug his hair back, tilting his head back, granting him a fleeting gasp of air.

“I don't really give a damn about the religious mumbo jumbo you're trying to sell me, Mr. Reed,” You mumble, your lips pressed against the damp line of his hair. “Nor do I care about your so-called research, honestly.” 

You tug on the knot of his blindfold, slowly, deliberately. His eyes flutter open, revealing his droopy, resilient blue eyes. He looks at you blearily, finally taking in his surroundings. 

You press a lingering kiss on the top of his eyelid. He flinches.

“I may not know faith, but I know what I want.” You whisper, drinking in his glares. “I'm a slave to my desires, you see,” Your lips curl. “and… it's telling me to want you.”

He doesn’t react. Not in the way you wanted him to. 

His eyes just bore into you, steady, unwavering. He’s putting up an act. Controlling his breaths to be slow– measured, deliberate. He’s trying to keep his composure, trying to maintain the illusion of control. Of power.

But you notice. 

The tension coiling in his shoulders. The way his fingers twitch against the restraints, curling into a fist. His shallow, uncertain inhales– like he’s still waiting for his next move.

You smile. 

“You don’t like this, do you?” You murmur, leaning closer to him, your breath barely grazing his ear. “Not so fun when you’re the one being toyed with.”

You push his body forward, wheeling the chair back. You’ve been soft, teasing this whole time. You’ve been gentle. But now? Now, it’s your turn to take control.

You fingers brush against the desk, finding the letter opener tucked neatly in one of his office drawers. His gaze flickers– brief, sharp– from the blade, to you, then back again. Panic? No, something else.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” You whisper soothingly– teasing. “We’re just going to have some fun, okay?”

You start from the bottom, pressing the tip to the fabric of his shirt. One by one, the buttons give way under the touch of the blade. Slowly, you move your way up– each undone button revealing a bit more.

The final button pops open, exposing the smooth planes of his chest. His chest rose and fell, nipples perking and taut due to the cold breeze. 

“Such pink nipples you have there.” You muse, tracing the metal blade around it. “Boop.” 

You playfully tap it, itching for a reaction. His eye twitches and his breath hitches– only for a second. Then, nothing. The same cold, impassive stare. 

Sitting there, bound and exposed wasn’t enough to crack him. The blindfold had taken away his control, left him unmoored. But now? Now with his eyesight returned, he had steadied himself, retaining some semblance of control.

You hum. A challenge is always welcome. 

“I like it when you look at me like that, Mr. Reed.” You purr, pointing the blade up to his neck, putting enough pressure to remind him how fragile flesh can be. You watch his throat bob as he swallows. His muscles tense, but he doesn’t flinch.  

You grin. “It’s making me want to break you harder.” 

Your free hands move, rummaging his desk.

“And look what I found!” You open another drawer from his desk, taking out an egg-shaped vibrator. “I didn’t know you were nasty like that, Mister.” 

His eyes widened at the sight, and involuntarily croaked out a choke through his gag. You grin wider. 

“I wonder what you use it for.” You muse. “Self-pleasure, maybe?” 

He rolls his eyes, a sharp, dismissive glare cutting through the dim light.

Maybe not, then.

You hum, jumping down from the desk to plop yourself on one of his thighs instead. He grunts at the added weight, body sinking deeper into the chair, his restraints digging into his skin. You can see the subtle signs of discomfort.

Good.

You’re glad you took those knot-tying lessons. Snug, secure, but just loose enough to keep circulation flowing. Just tight enough to hurt.

“Let's put this bad boy for a test drive, eh?” 

You press the button, turning it alive. It hums in steady, rhythmic pulses in your palms. You turn it up to a higher setting, dangling it right on his face, swinging it side to side, like a pendulum. His eyes follow it briefly, before focusing solely on you again– maintaining his stance. 

You gaze back into his eyes, watching him with amusement. He may have his composure for now, but not for long. You wonder how long it would take for him to break.

Pressing the toy on the fabric of his jeans, his body twitches– only a little. It was muscle reflex, you could almost hear him say. It doesn't matter. 

Trailing it up higher, to his knees, his thighs– the vibration filling the silence alongside his muffled breaths. He doesn’t react– his unwavering eyes still locked on yours– but you could see his chest rise and fall, each breath growing heavier.

Finally, after teasingly lingering on his inner thighs, the toy finally arrived at its destination. 

He couldn’t help but shudder– the vibration against his crotch was stimulating something deep within him– something he didn’t want resurfacing. You trail the toy up and down his crotch, from the tip of his rising cock down to his balls. 

Circling it in a slow and rhythmic motion, you watch as his shudders turn violent, his breath stuttering– ragged. His body betrays him; reacting, responding. 

Clicking the settings higher, you press it harder against him, the vibrator pulsing rhythmically. His jeans grew painfully tight, and you can't help but rub your palms against his bulge, making him cry out through gritted teeth.

His face is flushed deep red, while saliva drools down from the corner of his gagged mouth. He's struggling– for control, for composure– but every touch, every pulse of the toy betrays him. And that, more than anything, sends a thrill down your spine.

“You're so cute, Mr. Reed.” You cooed, rubbing his cock harder through his jeans, making his muffle out a defiant groan– cracks forming on his cold, unwavering mask.

“I bet it'll feel better if we didn't have anything in between, right?” You mused, pressing the blade just a tad deeper against his throat. Not enough to break skin– just deep enough to show who’s in control. He doesn’t respond, not giving you the satisfaction of an answer.

But you don't need to hear them to know how he feels; you can see the way his body betrays him. 

His body tensing– the way his hips buckled slightly when the toy hummed against the tip. You could see the look in his eyes– half-lidded, slightly clouded– as he watched you with something unreadable. Lust? Defiance? Submission? It didn’t matter, that was all you needed.

You smile, dragging the blade down his chest and slipping your fingers in his belt. “Let's find out then, shall we?”

You took his belt off, throwing it behind you without a care. His eyes follow your every move, quiet, waiting. Popping open the button of his jeans, you then slowly– agonizingly– slid the zipper down. Sliding your hand down his boxers, you reach inside.

It stood erect without any resistance. It throbbed, following the beat of his pulse– and twitched when you touched the tip. Warmth emanating from his cock, as it throbbed under your fingers. 

His eyes flicker back and forth between your hand– teasingly playing with the pre-cum leaking from his cock, and to you. His brow furrows in frustration as you teased him a little more, rubbing the tip of his cock with your palms in slow, languid motions.

Finally, you lock in. His breath caught as you gripped it firmly, slowly running it up and down his cock. You stroke it from the tip, down to the base of his shaft– slowly, sensually, using your spit and his precum as lube. 

He closes his eyes shut– breathing growing more laboured as you stroke faster, running it up and down his shaft as he groans softly against his gag.

You watch him, amused, catching every little detail as pleasure takes course of his body. The way his lips trembled, gasping out with every shudder– teeth grinding to stop himself from moaning. His muscles flexes and tenses as he pushes himself deeper into the chair, avoiding your sly eyes.

Placing the letter opener down, you pick up the vibrator you've left forgotten. Knees deep in pleasure, Mr. Reed doesn't notice as your free hand trails down to his balls, before a click turns the toy alive. 

He jerks– the unexpected pulses shocking his sensitive genitalia. He gasps, glaring at you through hooded eyes, definitely cursing you internally. You grin, before working your hands faster; clicking the control higher and higher, the toy humming faster against your palm.

The faster you stroked his girth, the more you could see his facade cracking. Seeing him struggle to maintain composure, resisting something not under his control, it just made you want to push him harder. 

He was close– you could feel it. 

You watch as his body tenses– hands clenched into a fist and eyes delirious as he nears his climax. Finally, before he could cum, you stop. 

Taking the toy away, you also let go of his throbbing– ready to burst–  cock.

Plugging the tip of his cock with a thumb, he protested– shuddering violently– crying out for a release that would never come.

It took a moment for his body to acclimate to a ruined orgasm. 

He twitched and groaned, eyes damp with tears, before slumping back into his seat– delirious; before he shook it off– glaring sharply, his gaze piercing into you.

A smile of satisfaction creeps on your face, drinking in his sweaty, messy state. “Were you about to cum?” You cooed, teasing him as you pushed his hair back neatly with your pre-cum slicked fingers. He continued glaring at you without saying a word, breathing out heavily through his gag.

“Don’t be so cold, Mr. Reed,” You chastised, “We’re just getting started!”

“Now,” You wrap your legs around him; straddling him, pushing him deeper into the chair. He groans, eyebrows scrunched in agony from the pressure. His old bones can't handle all these strenuous exercises.

Pressing your body flush on his, you cup his face in your hands, cradling it softly, looking deep into his piercing blue eyes. “come here.”

You kiss him, a small, lingering peck on his chapped lips. You kiss him again. And another. Peppering his face with small kisses, marking it with bright lipstick. 

He tenses with each kiss, bewildered by your actions. You were unpredictable. Soft and tender in one moment, but violent and pushy at the next. Just how could he know you were such a psycho?

You trail your kisses lower, down to his neck, his chest, peppering your mark along the way, his bellybutton, the dips of his hips– then finally down to his happy trail; reaching your destination. 

Getting down on your knees, you gaze up to your neighbor, his sexy messy state igniting the throbbing feeling down your nethers.

Shadow cast upon Mr Reed's face as he looked down on you below, but you felt as though you could almost see him smile. Pressing his warm hard cock on your cheeks, lips grazing the shaft, nose rubbing his cock– his musky scent dominating your senses, you wonder, just how much more you could do to please him. 

You're obsessed with him, yes, your need to dominate him was as strong; but the look on his eyes… made you wonder if he could dominate you just as well. The thought made your cheeks flush– imagining all the filthy stuff he could do to you.

Flicking a tongue out, his cock twitches as you slowly trail up to the tip, following the thick veins of his cock. The salty taste of his cock enveloping your senses.

How could he have you under his spell like this? If he’d known how much just a glance could melt you down in puddles, he’d dangle it over your head. But the thought just made your heart burn. Was it your ego? Pride? Whatever it was, you knew you and Mr. Reed were much more similar than you’d like to admit.

Determined to wipe off the smile on his face, you double down– reaching to pick up the belt you’ve left on the floor behind you. A lesson was in order, even if it meant whipping it out of him. Reaching out behind you, still kneeling on the floor, you realize that it was too out of reach– at least a few meters away. You swear, cursing your strength in the heat of the moment. 

You turn your back to him, crouching on the floor with stretched out arms, reaching out to grab the belt. You ponder about the things you’d do to him. Which would be best? Whipping? Choking him with the belt? While you ride him? Oh, choices, choices. 

Your nails graze the leather belt, as you fantasize about the filthy shit you’d do– just a little more– and as your finger finally loops around it– yay!– your head hits the floor with a thud. 

Blinding hot pain throbbed as a shoe pressed your skull harder into the floor, twisting it with clear resentment.

It was heavy; relentless as it dug deeper on the back of your head. He had his other leg on your thighs– pinning you down– stepping on you with his full body weight. It was too much to bear, the pain shooting up to your brain– making it hard for you to even think. You hear him click his tongue far above you, voice dripping with disdain.

“Not so powerful now, hm?” 

You wheeze out a response, the air knocked out of your lungs. Shadows cast on the floor as he shuffles around above you, shifting his weight on yours– sending a jolt of pain throughout your body. You twist, trying to shove him off, but he shifts again– knees pressed between your shoulder blades, locking you down in place. He binds your hands behind you, strained together underneath his weight.

Your mind stumbles, trying to catch up. He was restrained, bound. You made sure of it. So how–?

“You got careless.” He hums, grabbing a fistful of your hair– tugging it back– making your neck arch painfully. You wheezed out a gasp, as he looked down on you. 

“You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?” He continues, almost conversationally. Leaning over, he picks up the belt you almost had, gripping it in his hand. “Toying with me. Playing your little games.” A quiet chuckle, barely audible. “And yet, here you are. Beneath me.”

You open your mouth to answer, but he just pulled your hair back further, choking any words you had.

“Cat got your tongue?” He chuckles, a low rumble inside his chest.

Leaning down, his breath tickling your neck, his voice low, almost a whisper, “I didn’t expect a neighbour of mine to be such a dirty, perverted girl.” A pause, as he forced your head back further, forcing you to lock his gaze with yours, as much as you could see out of your line of sight. It wasn’t simmering with anger– nor with anything you could decipher. It was cold, watching. You feel your heart pound against your ribcage, pulsing inside your throat. 

“To think I almost considered you a friend.” He sighs, before loosening his grip on your hair.

Your skull hit the floor again. At this point, you’re starting to worry about a concussion. Then, cold leather slithers around your neck, as his other hand wrapped around your throat, keeping it afloat. It gripped your jaw, as the belt tightened around your neck– strangling you. With air cut off from its circulation, you can barely keep a coherent thought. 

“Not fun, is it?” He muses. “Being the one at a disadvantage.”

You open your mouth, maybe to bite out a retort– maybe to beg, to make a joke perhaps– but he pulls the belt tight, choking down any words that may form. Nevertheless, you strain out with the last few breaths you had, wheezing it out.

You laugh. A dainty, wheezy one, but a laugh nonetheless. 

Mr. Reed pauses, loosening the hold he had on you, perplexed. Mustering with the air you had, you laughed harder, a large grin on your face– turning your head to face him. Cheeks flush red with teeth bared, you keep your gaze locked on his.

You’re enjoying this, he realized. 

Tightening the belt on your throat, you choke, but the grin doesn’t fade. He coiled slightly, tightening his grip on yours.

“Disgusting.” He mutters under his breath. “You’re really a degenerate aren’t you?” 

If you didn’t know better, you swore you catched a hint of arousal in his voice. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he flips you over, his grip still tight on your jaw. Hands still bound behind, he straddles you, his weight pushing out any air left you had in you.

He forces your head up, making you look up at him. A halo of light flares behind him, obscuring his face in shadows– like an angel. With the oxygen dwindling, your vision swims, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if asphyxiation births revelations. Because, God help you, if he spoke now, you’d follow.

He watches you silently, keeping his grip locked tight– analyzing.

“Look at you,” He murmurs, tilting your head from side to side, as if examining something that’s beneath him. “Pathetic.”

You shudder, the way he looks at you– his voice? It sends shivers down your spine. He notices, with a furrow of his eyebrows.

“You really are sick.” He mutters, his voice low and cold– but it had a hint of something you knew you hadn’t been imagining. Lust.

“You say that like you don’t like it.” You whisper out, a smile still tugged on your lips.

His lips part, a flash of something unreadable passing through– only for a moment, then it’s gone.

Just as quickly, he reasserts control.

He pulls on the belt, yanking your head sideways– digging into your jaws tighter. You cry out what you could muster, painting a small smile of satisfaction on his face, only a little.

“I don’t.” He says, almost convincingly. Almost.

“Liar.” 

His expression darkens. Releasing his grip on your jaw, his hands trail higher, up to your still grinning lips. 

That same twisted, knowing smile. 

It makes his jaw clench. It's infuriating. He jams his thumb inside your warm mouth, gripping the inside of your cheeks with his thick fingers. It stretches out, exposing the pearls of your teeth. 

He wants you to plead, to beg – anything really. For mercy. As all the other girls had been. 

But you.

Instead of submitting– anything – you run your tongue over his thumb. Tasting, sucking it– slowly, sensually, while keeping your gaze locked on his. 

His fingers twitched, debating. He should be disgusted, repulsed– by how much you’re enjoying this. 

But instead?

He finds himself leaning in. 

“You wanted me like this, didn’t you?” His voice low, heavy, dripping with condescension. “You went through all that effort. Just to push me over the edge.”

You grin, still suckling on his thumb. “What gave that away?” You mused, breathy, despite the weight keeping you down. 

He pinches your tongue between his fingers– smothering any words you had.

Playing with your tongue between his fingers, you moan– enjoying every little flicks and pinch as he pushes deeper, making you gag. His fingers were paced– deliberate, hitting you in just the right places. 

His breath grows heavier looking down at you like this– a drooling mess from just a few fingers.

“Disgusting.” He mutters, but his actions says otherwise; finger fucking your face with voracity. You choke and gag, both from the belt around your neck and his fingers down your throat, but the sheer dominance, the power rolling off of him as he empowers you– it turns you the hell on.

“Look at you,” He mutters, lips curling as he smears drool across your face, wiping his fingers while trailing up to hair– pushing it back neatly– giving you a clear view. “Just a filthy Whore of Babylon, aren't you?” 

His voice is thick with something dark, something raw. The way he looks at you– like he's disgusted, like he's starving– a raw, primal desire rolling out of him in waves you could almost feel it burning on your skin. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“You defile everything you touch,” He breaths, fingers trailing down to the column of your neck, slipping it under your make-shift collar. Your pulse thrums under his touch, exposing just how needy you were. “Worse than a sinner– you're a disease.”

The tension crackles between you, feverish and unbearable. You were delirious in ecstacy, and him, eyes brimming with lust; chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. 

“And yet you keep touching me.” You parted your lips to taunt, egging him on further. He tenses, jaw clenching. His grip on your throat tightens minisculely.

You laugh, soft, teasing. “Maybe I’m contagious, Mr. Reed.” You lean in, close enough for your breath to ghost against his lips. “Maybe you like being defiled.”

He pushes you back down, tightening his grip. “You talk too much.”

You gurgle, his thumb pressing down on your esophagus. “What's wrong?” You wheeze out, feeling quite lightheaded. “Afraid of the truth?”

He stiffens, lips parting as a sharp inhale fills the space between you. His eyes were dark, warring between control and the undeniable pull dragging him closer.

“You think you had me figured out?” His voice low, dangerous.

You tilt your head as much as you could, grinning cheekily like you've already won. “Haven't I?”

His jaw clenches. He hates it. Hates your confidence, hates the way you speak as if you've unravelled him, thread by thread. Hates that he hasn't moved, hasn't let go, hasn't killed you. 

Then, before you could gloat any more, he moves.

Faster than you expected, he wrenches your wrists above your head, holding it in place while roughly taking off your collar– using it to bound your hands instead. 

He stood, grabbing you by the shirt and shoving you down on his desk. Before you could protest, his body presses flush against yours, suffocating, overwhelming– forcing himself between your legs. His lips brush against your ear, dark, dripping with something possessive, something he doesn't even want to name.

“Let’s see how much you really know.”

Then his lips crash onto yours in a feverish haze. It was hard, passionate, not even giving you a chance of gasping for air. As if silencing every word you've thrown at him.

His hands wander, slipping underneath your bra to play with your breasts– and wandering down lower to your hips, your thigh, every touch blazing with goosebumps. 

Taking off your trousers, still devouring your lips, he slips his fingers underneath your panties, teasingly pushing it to one side. A chuckle bubbles up as he feels how dripping wet you were.

“Dirty girl.” He mumbles against your lips, rubbing your wet clit. Your moans drown underneath his hot tongue, as he ravages you in ways that you can't even comprehend. 

As you drown in ecstasy, bound, held down and touched, Mr Reed slips in two fingers inside you– making you gasp. The sudden intrusion tore you away from his lips, as his eyes looked down on you, watching your every reaction.

Immediately, he pushes deeper into you, pumping in and out, relentless– not giving you a chance to adjust. You cry out, tears in your eyes as pain flames out with each thrust.

“This was your choice. You wanted this.” He breathlessly mutters against your lips, a predatory look in his eyes as he savours your suffering. “Remember?” A smirk tugged on his lips.

With his other free hand, he picks up the toy you've left forgotten. Turning it on, it thrums alive and pulsates. Clicking to its highest setting, he presses it on your sensitive clit– making you cry out. You struggle, bucking your hips as he kept on finger fucking you– pain and pleasure mixing– turning you into a puddle as your brain turns to mush.

Each thrust of his fingers gradually felt less painful. It pushes in deeper and hits your g-spot– and for a moment, you were mindless– just a pain slut delirious in pleasure. It made you writhe and tremble, something deep inside your guts building up. 

Mr Reed pins your wrist down, watching as you melt and drool on the desk– every twitch and whimper making his cock harder. 

“Just a pervert aren't you?” He hums, pressing the toy harder on your clit, circling it in slow, languid motions. “Tell me, do you think you deserve to cum?”

You don't answer. You were too lost in pleasure– a mindless mess. He raises a hand and slaps you, gripping your cheeks in one hand– forcing you to look at him. You meet his deep downturned eyes, clarity coming back to you.

“I don't like repeating myself, dear.”

Wide eyed, you nod– confused but excited. Anything he wanted, anything he needed? You know you just can't refuse. 

“Then beg for it.” He mused, eyes knowing.

Mouth gaping open, you try to think of what he wanted to hear. You try, but it's difficult with the vibrator on your clit– it feels like you're losing brain cells by the second.

“...Pl– please?”

“Please… what? Hm?” 

He's toying with you. Playing with you like a hunter with its prey. You don't hate it. 

“Please… can I–” He jabs another finger inside your cunt. “C-can I cum?”

“Again.” He says, enjoying every moment as he pumps you faster. You feel something warm building up inside you, begging for a release.

You gasp. “Can I cum?” 

“What’s the magic word, darling?” He hums, pausing. He slips his fingers out, the onslaught gone– your insides feeling hollow.

“Please!” You plead, desperate. “Please, can I cum? I–” Bucking your hips on his palms, desperate to reach your climax. “I need to cum, please–” 

He hums contentedly, fingers rubbing your clit in circular motions. “Only good girls get to cum,” He says, taking away your toy. “Are you a good girl?”

You nod vigorously, willing to give anything away just to feel the sweet release of ecstacy. 

“Use your words.” He raises a hand to slap your thighs, the stinging pain almost enough to make you burst.

“I.. I’m a good girl.” You pant. “I’ll be a really good girl. I promise!”

“Aww,” he cooed, and you almost felt hope. “but good girls don’t hold their neighbor hostage, do they?” Your heart drops. 

“Good girls don’t… befriend a neighbour with deeper intentions, no? Drug them, tie them up– use them as playthings?” His breath ghosts over your lips, head tilting to the side in mock contemplation. You whimper.

“That doesn’t sound very ‘good girl’ of you, does it?” His voice is sweet, but the venom beneath it makes your stomach twist. “Good girls don’t lie, either.”

You shake your head quickly. “I-I’m not lying! I promise! I’ll do anything–”

“Anything?” He echoes, a smirk tugging on his lips. “Now that’s a dangerous thing to promise.”

He leans closer, and your breath hitches. Wandering his hands to your thighs, his breath grazes warmly against your ears. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re still just a filthy little deceiver. A snake in the garden.”

“So tell me,” He tightens his grip on your thighs, strong enough to leave bruise marks. “How can a lying, scheming little thing like you repent?”

You tremble under his gaze, but your lips part, breathy and eager. “However you want.”

His eyes darken, a smile gracing his lips. “Excellent.” His hands snake up to your hair, pulling it back to meet his eyes. “From now on, you’re mine . Understood?” 

You nod hastily, far too deep in to care. Mr Reed’s expression shifts, his lips curling ever so slightly, the barest twitch of amusement tugging at the corners. It was the kind of satisfaction that seeps slowly, rich with victory.

He pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead, a reward for obedience. “Good girl.”

You melt. His warm embrace making you feel all gooey inside. Trailing his head lower, his hands spreading your legs wide– he trails his lips down to your nethers, kissing your throbbing needy clit. 

He hums, the warm vibrations on your clit better than any toy you’ve had. Using his tongue, it swirls and laps up your cunt– sucking and eating like a madman, drinking in your sweet nectar. You whimper and mewl, desperately writhing around, pulling against your restraints as you feel your orgasm building up again.

Seeming to notice your neediness, he pumps a finger inside you, hitting your insides in the right spots– fucking it deeper into you. His thick fingers were filling you up so deep– it felt like not even your own touch could satisfy you as much as he would. 

He was ruining anything else for you– nothing else could lift you up to heavenly bliss.

Increasing his pace, his groans and hums against your clitoris made it throb harder, as your orgasm almost reaches its peak.

You scream as it crashes over you like a tidal wave, sweeping away every coherent thought, leaving only raw sensation in its wake. Your body tenses, every nerve alight with an almost unbearable pleasure that coils tighter, tighter– until it snaps. A rush of heat floods through you, shuddering tremors racking your limbs as the world narrows to this singular, overwhelming moment.

Mr Reed kept on eating you– riding out your orgasm together as you buck and twitch, holding your hips down as the waves ebbs and flow.  And then, the slow descent– your heartbeat thrums in your ears, skin oversensitive, the aftershocks leaving you boneless and dazed, drifting in the hazy remnants of pleasure.

Laying there, dazed, you hear the shuffling of clothes thrown on the floor. 

Looking up through your eyelashes, you see Mr Reed towering over you, his wicked blue eyes looking at you like a wolf eyeing its prey. 

“Stand up.” He barks, pulling you forward by your restraints. Your knees buckle as he forces you to stand, almost falling if it hadn't been for his arms catching you in time. 

“Careful, dear.” He mused, arms wrapped around you, his tone almost tender. “Can't have you breaking so soon, now do we?” 

You shiver, as he spins you around facing the desk. Your palms rest on the wooden desk– legs splayed wide as he pushes himself between them.

“Now,” He whispers behind you, his warm breath on your ears sending a shiver down your spine. “Bend down, whore.” 

With his hard cock pressing up against you, he pushed your head down, pulling your arms behind you. Grinding his girth between your thighs, pressing up against your sensitive clit, you whimper, the stimulation almost too much to bear. 

Caressing your hair– pushing it back,  he shushes you, whispering affirmations. “You're going to be a good girl for me aren't you?” Kissing the back of your shoulders, he mumbles, teeth nipping on your skin. 

“Because I can’t hold back much longer.” He growls, before plunging into you.

Both of you groaned as he entered– finally entwined in flesh. He paused, only for a second– adjusting to your tight insides. Groans escape his lips as you clenched and bucked around him, holding on to your hips for balance.

Slowly, he moved. Your cheeks dig into the wood of the desk with every thrust, and he picks up the pace– the desk creaking and groaning matching his rhythm. 

You gasp– the pain and pleasure of being manhandled fucking you up deeply. He grips the belt restraining you behind your back– pulling you in deeper– harder– controlling your reins. The cool facade he's worn cracked further, revealing the hungry beast he'd kept hidden. 

“Look what you made me do.” He grunts between thrusts, gripping your neck from behind– choking you. 

"I told myself I wouldn’t." His lips curl, eyes raking over you like you’re nothing more than a mess of impulse and desperation. "Told myself I wouldn’t waste my time on something so beneath me– on a pathetic little whore who doesn't know her place."

Slipping his hand to your throat, he pulls you up– pressing you flush against him, his hot breath on your cheeks. “And yet, here we are.” A chuckle escapes him, quiet, mocking. “Look at you. So eager. So desperate. You want me to ruin you, don’t you?”

You felt every flex of his muscles– his warm, soft yet rigid body– as he thrust up into you. You gurgle out a response, enjoying every moment as pleasure courses in your veins. He grips your cheeks harder, waiting for a response. Realizing you’re too far gone to respond, he sighs.

“Filthy, scheming thing.” He mutters, almost as if he's disappointed, yet there was a hint of admiration. Grazing his lips on your ears, he whispers, warm and breathless with a smirk tugged on his lips. “You really are disgusting.”

His pace was faster now, and you could feel his cock throbbing deep inside you– threatening to burst. Even in your delirious state, you heard something that almost made your heart stop. He uttered your name– his voice low and sensual– almost yearning. That was the last straw before you came again– a wave of earth-shattering orgasm melting you down. You clench and shudder, making him grunt– head resting on your shoulders– as his orgasm came too. 

Both of you stood there, breathless and panting. Still wrapping you in his arms, he calmed his racing heart. Pushing himself off of you, you collapse on the desk– still shuddering from your orgasm, your belly warm and stuffed with cum. You feel Mr Reed’s warmth behind you, holding on to your hips for balance. He took a breath, pushing his sweaty hair back neatly.

Looking at him through half-lidded eyelashes, you smile. His eyes lock on to you, a devious grin forming on his lips. Leaning down, he kisses your neck, snuggling his nose in the crook behind your ears whilst taking off your restraints. “My good, filthy girl.” He hums, scooping you in his arms. 

He picks you up in a bridal carry, shushing any protests. Pushing his way past doors, you finally arrive in a bedroom. It was comfy, with a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. Laying you down gently, he tucks you in, smothering any whines with a kiss. 

“Tell me,” he mumbles against your lips. “Do you feel better now? Getting exactly what you wanted?”

The question lingers in the space between you, heavy with meaning. You don’t answer, but he doesn’t need you to. He sees it in your eyes, in the way your body melts against the sheets, in the way you don’t pull away.

He chuckles, low and quiet. “That’s what I thought.”

Sliding beside you underneath the covers, he drapes an arm over your waist, pulling you flush against him. His breath is warm against your temple, his voice softer now, but no less possessive.

“Sleep, little lamb.” His fingers trace slow, lazy circles on your hip. “You’ll need your strength. After all… I’m not done with you yet.”

And with that, he presses a final, lingering kiss to your forehead– one last claim, one last reminder– before letting the darkness take you both.

-**-

[problematic-yuri-poll]

Problematic Yuri Tournament Season 2 - Losers' Round 4

Murciélago vs. Sazi-chan no Yami Nikki

Murciélago (manga by Yoshimurakana)

action, comedy

Sexual Content: HIGH; Gore: HIGH; Violence: HIGH

Submitted 2 times.

Submitted problematic elements:

Main character is a serial killer lesbian. theres incest, rape, body horror, emotional manipulation, among others

Protagonist is a serial killer, sexual predator, and a pedophile. She's basically the worst woman of all time. She also manipulates several women into sleeping with her.

Submitted content warnings:

oh yeah i mean tw for violence, incest, rape, bullying, children in peril and others

Extreme violence and gore, explicit sex, sexual assault, pedophilia, child murder, cannibalism, and just a general mess of nasty stuff

Submitted propaganda:

Its got an actually evil lesbian MC who has a lot of depth. Its funny as fuck and its got really interesting narrative, amazing action and compelling characters. Its also very sexy and beautifully drawn

Kuroko Koumori is the best character in yuri history and absolutely nobody does it like her.

Sazi-chan no Yami Nikki (manga by Asagi Yume)

comedy, drama, psychological

Sexual Content: LOW; Gore: LOW; Violence: HIGH

Mod submission.

Mod-submitted problematic elements:

yandere, stalking, sadism, some noncon elements

Mod-submitted content warnings:

self harm, murder, nonconsensual kissing, stalking, surveillance, kidnapping, suicide

Mod-submitted propaganda:

cute yandere 4koma comedy yuri that takes a dramatic turn at the end! sazi is a yandere girl who loves her childhood friend hikari, and wants to "eliminate" hikari's best friend mero. there's also another yandere girl, who's interested in sazi...! (we love you usagi..)

[serickswrites]

Whump Series

Eyes--status complete. 8 parts. TW: kidnapping, self-sacrifice, coma?, blood, weapons, honestly this is magical shit so i have no idea how to tag it, some team elements, but not overt team whump

Roadtrip--status complete. 12 parts. TW: kidnapping, restraints, drugging, sexual assault, rape, non-con, stabbing, blood, hospital, dehumanization, gagging, creepy/intimate whumper, escape attempts (I hope I got all the tags). Has some team elements, but not overt team whump

Annoyed--status complete. 6 parts. TW: captivity, torture, whipping, blood, creepy/intimate whumper, sexual assault, noncon, videotaping, rescue

Fit--status complete. 5 parts. TW: kidnapping, captivity, restraints, muzzle, noncon, sexual assault, physical assault, drowning, collapse, broken bones, implied hurt/comfort/hurt/aftermath/hurt/recovery

Nothing--status complete. 7 parts. TW: emotional manipulation, noncon, dissociation, physical violence, broken bones, bruises, choking, suffocation, emotional whump, caretaker and whumpee

See--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, blood, rescue, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery. Has team elements, but is not team whump

Where--status complete. 4 parts. TW: blood, torture, captivity, emotional whump, hospital, unclear character status at the end

Mutual--status complete. 7 parts. TW: kidnapping, captivity, restraints, whipping, blood, knives, beating, bruises, wounds, suffocation, choking, rescue, explosion, self-sacrifice, video tapes, emotional whump

Prepared --status complete. 3 parts. TW: mcd, blood, emotional whump

Know--status complete. 6 parts. TW: blood, kidnapping, torture, restraints, two whumpers, rescue, hospital

The Gift--status complete. 7 parts. TW: captivity, torture, physical violence, blood, noncon, buried alive, two whumpers, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hospital

Alive--status complete. 5 parts. TW: torture, captivity, restraints, water torture, electrocution, hospital, emotional whump, self sacrifice, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath, rescue. Has team elements, but is not team whump

How--status complete. 6 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, whipping, blood, wounds, botched escape, actual escape, two whumpers

Take--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, torture, rescue, scars, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt recovery. 

Dearest Forsaken--status complete. 10 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds, gore, knives, physical violence, electrocution, drowning, choking, white torture, sensory deprivation, rescue, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery. Has team elements but is not team whump.

Late--status complete. 2 parts. TW: drowning, kidnapping, cpr; rescue. Has team elements, but is not team whump

Dramatic--status complete. 4 parts. TW: hostage situation, self sacrifice, guns, gunfire, gunshot, blood, mcd. Has team elements, but is not team whump.

Choke--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, choking, strangulation, drowning, passive suicidal ideation, temporary character death, cpr, rescue, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Rescue--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, failed rescue attempt, torture, blood, wounds, sickness, rescue, hospital. Has team elements, but is not team whump

Bloody Valentine--status complete. 6 parts. TW: mcd, blood, gore, wounds, kidnapping, physical violence, hospital, yandere whumper

Hunger--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, starvation, cruel whumper, fawning, feigned fawning, restraints, rescue, hospital

Ice--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, escape/rescue, drowning, hypothermia, cpr, mcd. Not team whump, but has team elements.

Secrets--status complete. 5 parts. TW: kidnapping, restraints, blood, torture, forced to watch, rescue

Want--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, kidnapping, yandere whumper, physical violence, drugging, sexual assault, noncon, rescue (x2), MCD, knives

Good Times, Bad Times--status complete. 6 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, noncon, two whumpers, sadistic whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, rescue

52 Weeks--status complete. 8 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, blood, wounds, video tapes, rescue. Not team whump, but has team elements.

In Plain Sight--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, torture, blood, wounds, burns, restraints, medical care, hospital, caretaker and whumpee

Not of This World--status complete. 10 parts. TW: kidnapping, captivity, blood, murder, death (not mcd), noncon, aliens

Say It--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, knives, blood, wounds, unconsciousness, emotional whump, escape, hospital, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee. 

Morning --status complete. 5 parts. TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Reaper at the Gate--status complete. 7 parts. TW: restraints, blood, torture, captivity, botched escape attempt, physical violence, electrocution, drowning, illness, fever, rescue, caretaker and whumpee, unclear character status. Not team whump, but has team elements.  

The Sea Inside--status complete. 9 parts. TW: blood, wounds, stabbing, potential drowning, captivity, torture, cruel whumper, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee (mostly comfort tbh)

Legends Rise--status complete. 8 parts. TW: public humiliation, whipping, torture, restraints, blood, stabbing, knives, unconsciousness, defiant whumpee, threat of death. 

Song of the Siren--status complete. 6 parts. TW: yandere whumper, captivity, magic, soul sucking, manipulation, drowning, implied mcd. 

Awake--status complete. 6 parts. TW: head injury, drugging, broken bones, noncon, yandere whumper, unclear character status. 

Come On--status complete. 5 parts (including epilogue). TW: captivity, blood, wounds, infection, bandages, drowning, knives, stabbing, mcd, grief, mourning, hurt/no comfort, caretaker and whumpee. 

Every Breath--status complete. 5 parts. TW: referenced torture, referenced captivity, sick fic, medical whump, yandere whumper, drugging, creepy/intimate whumper, unclear character status. 

Royal Pain--status complete. 6 parts. TW: torture, restraints, bruises, blood, wounds, emotional whump, cruel whumper, self sacrifice, mcd, caretaker and whumpee, hurt/no comfort. 

This Means War--status complete. 8 parts. TW: kidnapping, torture, choking, strangulation, restraints, unconsciousness, rescue, caretaker and whumpee, hospital, unclear character status (multiple)

Secret Agent Man--status complete. 7 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, broken bones, bruises, wounds, injury, blood, knives, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, rescue, caretaker and whumpee, two whumpers

On a Limb--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, rescue, broken bones, amputation, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Lethal Weapon--status complete. 7 parts. TW: conditioning, manipulation, captivity, hidden injury, gunshot, blood, wounds, unconsciousness, hospital, self sacrifice, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath. Team elements, but not team whump

The Night We Met--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, noncon, blood, wounds, drugging, mcd, two whumpers, creepy/intimate whumper, cruel whumper

At Last--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, torture, wounds, blood, bruises, unconsciousness, hospital, escape, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Words--status complete. 2 parts. TW: emotional whump, threats, torture, captivity, restraints, wounds, blood, stab wounds, mcd, grief, hurt/no comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Once and for All--status complete. 7 parts. TW: kidnapping, restraints, gags, physical violence, torture, blood, bruises, broken bones, noncon, choking, unconsciousness, mcd, two whumpers, hurt/no comfort

Forever--status complete. 5 parts. TW: yandere, drugging, magic, poisoning, unconsciousness, self sacrifice

Stuck On You--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, broken bones, escape, hospital, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath, two whumpees

Quake--status complete. 3 parts. TW: earthquake, head injury, blood, unconsciousness, rescue, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hospital. 

Undercover--status complete. 3 parts. TW: blood, gunshot, wounds, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, blood, gunshot, mcd, hurt/no comfort

Grateful--status complete. 3 parts. TW: referenced torture, referenced captivity, scars, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Chatter--status complete. 5 parts. TW: restraints, torture, exposure, hypothermia, unconsciousness, noncon touching, noncon, escape, defiant whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, hurt/aftermath

Higher Love--status complete. 7 parts including epilogue. TW: captivity, torture, drugging, noncon, sexual assault, rape, hospital, rescue, dissociation, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee, yandere whumper, cravings, substance abuse, recovery.

Sweet Nothings--status complete. 2 parts. TW: injury, hospital, unconsciousness, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Hook, Line, and Sinker--status complete. 8 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, gag, self sacrifice, torture, stabbing, blood, gun, gunshot, mcd, hurt/no comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Touch Them--status complete. 7 parts including alternate ending. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, unconsciousness, blood, head injury, forced to watch, choking, strangulation, suffocation, begging, noncon, rape, broken bones, mcd, caretaker and whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper. Alternate does not have MCD

Are You Scared--status complete. 2 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, buried alive, temporary character death, cpr, rescue, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

On Three--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, strangulation, broken bones, physical violence, escape

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, blood, nail, wounds, rescue, unconsciousness, physical violence, unclear character status, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Ready, Set, Go--status complete. 8 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, suffocation, asphyxiation, unconsciousness, rescue, physical violence, temporary character death, cpr, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Two Birds, One Bullet--status complete. 6 parts. TW: captivity, threat of death, forced to watch, self sacrifice, gun, gun violence, falling from a great height, potential mcd, blood, broken bones, torture, gunshot, gunshot wound, blood, unclear character status, hospital, intubation, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Compass--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, hunting, cruel sadistic whumper, pursuit, gun shot, unclear character status

Close--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, forced to watch, electrocution, forced to hear, rescue

Unhand--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, self sacrifice, physical violence, unconsciousness, blood, burns, cuts, appears to be mcd, but is not actually, nightmares, rescue, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

In Your Arms--status complete. 3 parts. TW: kidnapping, torture, restraints, bruises, beating, rescue, gun fire, gunshot, blood, wounds, bleeding out, unconsciousness, temporary character death, cpr, hospital, bedside vigil, emotional manipulation, self sacrifice, lies, caretaker and whumpee, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Still With Us--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, rescue, unconsciousness, hospital, bedside vigil, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort

Make Me--status complete. 8 parts. TW: captivity, yandere, burns, threats, torture, restraints, scars, knife, cuts, cutting, blood, rescue, hurt/aftermath

You're Awake--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds, blood loss, rescue, unconsciousness, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

So Tired--status complete. 7 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, gag, burns, unconsciousness, video recording, rescue

Miss Me?--status complete. 7 parts with alternate ending. TW: presumed dead, restraints, kidnapping, drugging, captivity, torture, physical violence, broken bones, blood, mcd (alternate ending does not have mcd), alternate ending has rescue and hospital.

Strength in Your Bones--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, rescue, unconsciousness, blood, bloody nose, hospital, poisoning, imprisonment, coma, unclear character status

Tender is the Night--status complete. 5 parts. TW: self sacrifice, restraints, gag, kidnapping, captivity, torture, physical violence, bruises, escape, rescue, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

We've Had a Good Run--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, drowning, temporary character death, rescue, cpr, failed rescue, mcd, hurt/no comfort

Shake and Shiver--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, torture, forced to hear, cruel whumper, sadistic whumper, caretaker and whumpee, electrocution, dislocation, escape, rescue, blood, bruises, wounds, unconsciousness, mcd, grief, hurt/no comfort

Silence--status complete. 3 parts. TW: betrayal, physical violence, drowning, unconsciousness, rescue, hurt/aftermath

Electrify--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, electrocution, forced to watch, revenge, mcd, hurt/no comfort

Frozen Tears--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, unconsciousness, implied noncon, hypothermia

Heavy Burden--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, botched escape/rescue attempt, strangulation, cruel whumper, blood, cuts, wounds, mcd, escape, failed rescue, hurt/no comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Walk--status complete. 4 parts. TW: hostage situation, held at gun point, threat, threat of death, gun shot, collapse, blood, unconsciousness, unclear character status

Devil's Advocate--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, self sacrifice, knife, torture, physical violence, failed rescue, forced to watch, strangulation, mcd.

Thin Ice--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, brands, burns, restraints, cruel whumper, hurt/no comfort, mcd

You're Doing Great--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, drugging, lab whump, cruel whumper, cpr, mcd

Twenty-Three and Me

All Quiet--status complete. 4 parts. TW: escape attempt, torture, captivity, restraints, drugging, experimentation, blood, broken bones, unconsciousness, physical violence, blood, forced to watch, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, guilt

Let Me Help You--status complete; 2 parts. TW: bruises, blood, broken bones, unconsciousness.

Another catatonia request--status complete; 2 parts. TW: referenced torture, referenced captivity, catatonia, caretaker and whumpee, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Dangerous Game--status complete; 3 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, threat of death, pursuit, escape, stabbing, blood, mcd, hurt/no comfort, failed rescue

Lonely Place of Longing--status complete; 17 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, dehumanization, manipulation, torture, blood, unconsciousness, wounds, medical care, gore, stabbing, cuts, knife, gun, gunshot, cruelty, heartbreak, self sacrifice, mcd, cpr, failed cpr, heartbreak, hurt/no comfort. Living weapon whumpee

Electric Feel--status complete; 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, electrocution, incontinence, drowning, gag, unconsciousness, rescue, cardiac arrest, cpr, mcd, hurt/no comfort

It's Over--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, blood, knife, stabbing, wounds, mcd, rescue, hospital, revenge, recapture, unconsciousness, unclear character status, rescue, too late rescue, mcd, grief, hurt/no comfort

Lake Lachrymose

On My Way--status complete. 2 parts. TW: threats, fear, rescue

Antidote

Rope

Wake Up--status complete. 2 parts. TW: implied kidnapping; mcd; noncon drug use; poison, grief, mourning, presumed dead, betrayal, kidnapping, implied future torture, unclear character status, drugging

[3-2-whump]

(Re)Living a Nightmare, part 2

<prev next>

You're still here? Okay, it's not gonna get any better for our poor boy. Do read and heed the tags/CW.

Basic Summary if You Decide to Skip

Also please skim this chapter and this chapter if you haven't already, because they will be referenced heavily in the story coming up

TW/CW: rape/noncon, bound and gagged and blindfolded whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, knife play, neither safe nor sane nor consensual, blood (lots of blood), victim blaming, internalized victim blaming, whumpee and whumper unknowingly triggering each other, blunt force trauma to the head (face), panic

NOTE: The inner thoughts and opinions expressed within do not align with those of the author, who themself has never and would never condone such thoughts and opinions in real life. Reader Discretion is advised.

All Thomas asked of him was to change into clothes he wouldn’t mind replacing, which usually meant that whatever Khaled wore would be torn/burned/ stained so irreparably that it’d just be thrown away after. Already based on that request, Khaled could guess he was in for a rough night. He had no idea how much worse it could get until he was blindfolded, bound, gagged, and carried out the apartment and down to the cold garage, where the hard foot-well of the back seat waited for him. The car revved to life, and his restrained body lurched forward as Thomas pulled out of the garage and drove them to fuck knows where.

Eventually they came to a stop, Thomas exchanged some words with the night-shift guard at the old house, and then they kept going until they parked. Khaled slowly started to put the pieces together. They were back at the old house, which probably meant Thomas wanted to take him downstairs, which meant whatever he wanted to do to him would be too messy or too specialized to do back at the apartment. What is he planning? Khaled wondered. He’s asked me to wear my most expendable clothes, he’s tied me up like I used to be when I was recaptured, he’s thrown me into the back like when I was recaptured-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car door opening. He blindly tilted his head toward the chill of the night and the distant sound of frogs singing. A pair of calloused hands hauled him up from the foot-well of the back seat and slung him over a broad shoulder. “Thought you could escape me this time, did you?” his master’s voice purred in his ear.

A pit of dread competed with the chill of the early spring night in his bones as Khaled realized what all this preparation had meant. Master wants to roleplay my escape attempts. He began shivering, though not just because of the cold. A warm hand rested on his buttocks to steady him as he felt himself being carried inside, through the hallway, and to the front of a very familiar door. Reliving his failed escape attempts but with an added sexual element was one of Khaled’s recurring nightmares. What cruel irony was this, that he had begged so enthusiastically no more than half an hour ago for this man to make his nightmare come true?

The familiar creak of a door opening preceded the dusty, dried-blood smell coming from the stairs leading down into the cellar. Khaled pleaded through the rag stuffed in his mouth and the tape sealed over his lips as they descended the stairs step by concrete step. He tugged at the zip ties binding his wrists and ankles, but all that did was dig the hard plastic further into his flesh.

The cellar in the basement was the only room in Luciano Antonio Costa’s old house that didn’t get renovated when they converted the rest of it into an office space. Mainly because its purpose as a room for torture and interrogation never went obsolete. Khaled didn’t have to see it; he’d been down in the T&I cellar enough times to have the layout committed to memory. Dusty, red bricked walls arched into a curved ceiling where two overhead lamps hung by thick chains, illuminating the large expanse below. A fireplace and all its accompanying iron tools sat to the left, and a rack lined with various instruments of torture was positioned to the right. In the middle was one large table with scratch marks furrowed into its edges, and many other types of equipment were either shoved in a corner or hanging from the ceiling, suspended by heavy chains and hooks like morbid chandeliers. Partitioning a back portion of the room was a large iron gate leading to a small offshoot of the basement, much like a door to a prison cell. Not much lay beyond the iron gate besides a hard-worn bench and several opaque plastic storage tubs full of mysterious items.

Khaled squirmed as he was lowered onto his stomach on top of the familiar table. “What were you thinking,” scolded the nightmare looming above him. A faint swish of a pocket knife and cold steel next to his skin made Khaled pause his struggles as his master cut away the zip ties. “Escaping in this cold weather without so much as a scrap of clothing on you –did you even have a plan?” he taunted. “I don’t know what your plan was, or even if you had a plan, but was it really worth freezing yourself to death?”

Khaled enjoyed the freedom of his unbound limbs for only a moment until his wrists were snatched into a tight grip and gathered in front of him. A coarse and scratchy material –rope, most likely –began entangling around and in between his wrists as his master continued talking. “We have a tracking chip installed inside of you, remember? You can never escape me; I will always find you.” With a forceful tug, Khaled’s hands were pulled in front of him, then he couldn’t move his hands at all. The other end of the rope must have been tied off to the ring attachment at the edge of the table.

His ankles remained free, if only to make it easier to take his pants off.

There were some light shuffling noises before the wooden table groaned under a newfound weight. Khaled felt the body heat of another person leaning over him. The cologne Thomas wore quickly overpowered his senses as the man hovered close. Khaled could feel his master’s breath on his ear and something hard and stiff against his backside. “The last time you tried to run away, a friend of mine advised me to cut your tendons,” Thomas sultrily whispered.

Oh god no. By now, Khaled knew which escape attempt they were reenacting, and, coincidentally, it was the one he had nightmares about the most.

“I don’t want to permanently cripple you though,” Thomas sighed, “mostly because it would be even more of a hassle to care for you, but I will cripple you temporarily, at the very least...”

He could already hear the hiss of the iron.

His panicked cries took on a new pitch of desperation. Without warning, his master’s fingers pinched at the edge of the duct tape on Khaled’s mouth and pulled, making him scream in pain. The rag was quickly removed, only for his tormentor to shove his index and middle fingers past the boy’s teeth to depress his tongue. “Suck,” he growled, “because this is the only lube you’re going to get.”

“Please, no, not this one, please, please no, not this, not this,” Khaled begged around the fingers in his mouth.

The fingers quickly withdrew before Khaled’s head was yanked back by the hair and then smashed onto the table. Stars danced across his blindfold, and a faint trickle of something warm and wet escaped from his nose.

“Let’s try this again.” Thomas shoved his fingers back into the boy’s mouth, burying them to the knuckle and making the boy gag. “Suck.”

Khaled shakily worked his head up and down the length of the fingers as his tongue lapped at each digit. He started to cry. As soon as the fingers withdrew, his pleas picked up again in earnest. “Please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me-”

“Would you relax?! I’m not going to burn you!” Thomas shouted above him. “What about any of this looks like I’m gonna burn you?!” Khaled heard a frustrated huff above him as his master yanked down his pants and underwear, exposing his bare ass and legs to the cold. The shed clothing was discarded, landing with a soft whump somewhere behind them. The two digits that were in his mouth forcefully entered him below, all pretense of play forgotten as they began roughly working him open. “Besides which, weren’t you the one who wanted to do this? You asked for this, you wanted this! You said you would be good for me!”

And he was right, he did say he wanted this. He asked for this to happen. So, with a defeated sniffle, Khaled went quiet and limp.

“So, are you going to be good for me now?”

Khaled’s bruised forehead scraped against the table as he nodded.

“Thank fuck,” Thomas grumbled.

I asked for this, Khaled told himself. The darkness around his eyes became damp as the blindfold caught his tears. I asked for this, I wanted this. He repeated it like a mantra as the man on top of him replaced his fingers with his cock and steadily screwed him against the table. I asked for this, I wanted this. Something tore down there as an unmistakable thin, warm, and sticky fluid trickled past the cock pummeling his hole. I wanted this. I wanted this…

I didn’t want this.

I never wanted this. Any of this.

I don’t want this. Slowly, the new mantra gained strength, and he let the words slip between his lips with every shuddering breath. “I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this-”

“Tough shit,” his master grunted.

Khaled pulled against the rope restraining his hands as he struggled against the body pressing into his. “I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I-” Again, Khaled’s face was smashed against the table. He heard a faint crunch as a new river of blood flowed out of his nose.

“You can scream all you want, nobody’s going to hear you,” Thomas growled, “but for fucks sakes, can you please scream something less annoying?!”

Khaled kept repeating it between every sniffle, like a sad broken record. “I don’t want this,” he sobbed. “I don’t want this… I don’t want this…”

His begging finally outwore Thomas’ need to finish. “Fuck,” his master huffed, unsticking his sweaty torso from Khaled’s clothed back as he pulled out of him. Khaled collected his heaving breaths. It would be too naïve of him to believe his bitchy whining finally got through, but he would appreciate this moment while he could.

He suppressed his sobs and tilted his head to follow the footsteps and shuffling sounds Thomas was making as he tried to guess what would happen to him next. Khaled heard the faint schwing of a different knife being unsheathed. It cut through the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt as his master finally completely undressed him, tearing away the scraps of cotton the knife didn’t excise from his body. “You said you would be good for me, but you have been anything but!” A twisted strip of cloth was wedged between his teeth and hastily tied off at the back of his head. His master’s hand pinned him down by the back of the neck, crushing him against the table with the weight behind it. “You said you missed me, but you’ve only fought against me this whole time!” Khaled screamed into the gag as the tip of the knife sank in between his shoulder blades. Its blade dragged tortuously and deliberately through his skin as his tormentor continued griping above him. “You’re a fucking liar, you know that?” The knife mercifully lifted from the trough it had carved, only to be plunged into a new area of Khaled’s back. “Do you know what I do to liars, boy? I make them pay!” The raw wounds on his back wept with blood as the knife kept slicing, spilling over his sides and pooling underneath his stomach and the table below. It was hard to cry with a gag in his mouth and a broken nose full of blood. He gasped for breaths between sobs, never quite getting a satisfying breath before the pain of the knife would make him scream again. His tears slipped past the saturated blindfold and tracked down his cheeks to join the pinkish smear of saliva, snot, and blood he could feel covering the lower half of his face. “This is for Callahan!” The knife drove down and sliced another line through his skin for each name the monster dropped. “This is for Trémeaux! And Robinson, and Martinez, and Kruger, and Kościelsky, and this-” The knife dug deeper this time. Khaled bit into the gag as his nerves screamed in agony, the steel scraping something hard as it dragged against his back. “-this is for my brother; he is never coming back! Tony is never coming back, and it’s all because of you!” the monster above him roared.

It was in that moment, between the terror and the pain, that Khaled realized with a fascinated horror that his master was reliving a nightmare, too. I need to snap him out of it if I’m getting out of this cellar alive, he realized. So, he set his own trauma and pain aside and began doing what got him into this mess in the first place. The twisted cloth had loosened just enough. He pushed it out of his mouth with his tongue and started begging as if his life depended on it, because this time, it really did.

“I didn’t kill him!” he cried.  “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him!” Khaled screamed well past the point his throat hurt. “Master, please, I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill any of them! I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill him, Master, I didn’t kill him…” If the knife had stopped cutting into him and the rope around his wrists had been untied, Khaled was too far gone in his panic induced catatonia to notice. “I didn’t kill him… I didn’t kill him…” he rasped through a throat torn raw from screaming.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood

[silmkinkmeme]

Prompts 2022 Fest - Week 13

Curufin/any - conflicting emotions about Fëanor

Prompt Rating: E

Warnings: Chose Not To Warn

Prompt: The following has no DNWs (including for ships, including incest or noncon) and is only a rough, flexible idea. Take it where you want.

For some reason or another, Curufin has been feeling a lot of resentment towards Fëanor. Maybe he's blaming him for dying, maybe he feels he isn't praised enough, maybe they've had a fight. The reason is not important. The important thing is that Curufin really struggles with feeling "bad" things about his father: it makes him feel guilty and unsettled.

The way he solves this is by having sex with someone who is also mad at Fëanor.

Curufin offers to roleplay as his father so the other person can punish Fëanor. In exchange, Curufin gets to hear someone saying out loud the things he's been wanting to say to his father but barely even dares to think about.

The punishment can cross into BDSM territory or it can be just vanilla hatesex, but I'd prefer a verbal element - Curufin wants to HEAR his anger at Fëanor being verbalized by someone.

Bonus (but not required): Curufin loves the catharsis of someone punishing his father, but he feels SO guilty about it that he can't do it if he's not punished for WANTING it, and whenever his partner forces him to apologize as part of the roleplay Curufin secretly pretends he's apologizing to Fëanor for being a bad son who gets off on his father being punished.

dreamwidth link

Reborn Maedhros and brothers fluff/h/c

Rating: Not Rated

Prompt: I'd just like to see any scene of soft Maedhros being a good older brother after being returned from Mandos.

Bonuses for these family relationships (among everything else) having become difficult/strained/not great while they were all alive in Middle-earth, but now being repaired.

Ideally I'd like for Maedhros to be having or at least moving towards a peaceful and happy goal-less retirement but still reached by some echoes of past trauma/guilt, but you can interpret his/the returned Feanorians' mental states & situations however makes sense to you.

The focus could be on Maedhros and any of the other brothers. In terms of ships, I'm not opposed to Maedhros/Maglor making an appearance and/or background Russingon if those happen to call to you. Otherwise, gen, please!

Ao3 link | dreamwidth link

Luthien Punishes Celegorm and Curufin, TW Rape, TW Bestiality

Prompt Rating: E

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Prompt: Luthien and Huan capture Celegorm and Curufin when they try to flee after shooting Beren. When Beren heals, Luthien decides that the brothers deserve a punishment. I definitely want Huan fucking Celegorm (Curufin is optional) and Beren fucking Curufin (Celegorm is optional). And I want Luthien in charge of it all.

Some suggestions below, but if they don't speak to you, don't feel obliged to include them. Do what you like with the prompt.

Celegorm comes untouched from Huan's knot

Luthien thinks it's below her to fuck the brothers, but she can jerk them off or finger them to humiliate them

Luthien makes them both watch the other being fucked

Trans Curufin. Beren fucks him in the ass, so he won't accidentally get pregnant

Luthien mocks/threatens Celegorm (or Curufin) that Huan will get him pregnant

Luthien makes them fuck/suck off each other

Curufin is deathly afraid of dogs and tolerated only Huan

Celegorm calls Luthien a bitch and that's where she gets the idea to have Huan fuck him

Celegorm is furious at first, but eventually he breaks and sobs and begs

Curufin resist longer than Celegorm, but he is broken too

Luthien has magic powers that she uses for evil (makes the brothers aroused against their will, binds them with vines, chokes them, whatever)

dreamwidth link

Maedhros, suffering, any warnings

Prompt Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Chose Not To Warn

Prompt: gang I’m fucking Going Thru It (It = Having A Cold) rn so i’m coping with an open call for Make Maedhros Suffer.

any ships, although I’d prefer romance wasn't the sole focus, any era except pre-Darkening, any concept.

have u ever had a WIP of maedhros Going Thru It, an outline where he suffers, a vague inkling that involves pain happening in his general direction? YOU are the person I’m looking for, pls clean that shit up and post it so I can feast on someone else’s misery for a bit.

DNW completely-evil!Fëanor or any other Fëanorion. sure they’re annoying af and war criminals but they’re MY annoying war criminals.

dreamwidth link

To see all 486 prompts, please visit the kinkmeme's Ao3 collection. Don't forget to give some love to the authors of our 207 works. Check out also our Prompt Post 1 on dreamwidth for prompts and fills not posted on Ao3, to ask any clarifying questions to the prompters or just to squeal under the prompts you loved.

[hostileheart]

nefors can fuck

sum: you’re minding your own business and the two men come across you what will happen?

tw: rape/noncon elements, beating, death threats, heavy nsfw

You wanted a smoke break as the cold air hissed over your body and you staggered outdoors into what seemed to be nothing at all. A forest was getting closer to your residential complex. It seems like the whole place was deserted at all times of day. You went to the tree where you often hung out, leaving your tracks in the snow. It was ten o'clock when you looked down at your phone; it wasn't very late, but it was late enough to serve as a reminder to stay alert of your surroundings. Sitting quietly, taking drags from your cigarette, you notice two men approaching you. You squint as the two young guys approach, their faces become more identifiable, but you weren't bothered by this because you knew them given that you attended school with both of them at one point, and that they most likely lived close by. Your pulse raced as you watched them get closer and closer, giving you the impression that you were frozen in time by that tree. You couldn't have put together how quickly the filthy blonde nods his head and tells the raven-headed man to seize you with only a single nod. Nikita covered your lips with one hand while grabbing your arms and pinned them over your head. He pushed his groin against your own a warm sensation formed from there his lips contorted to a pleased yet uncomfortable expression. Before you knew it, Nikita was quickly taking a hammer out of his pocket and Artyom was standing next to you.

"I'll split your fucking skull open if you say one fucking word, slut."

You nod, tears stinging your eyes as you look at him fearfully. You glance at Nikita, who's still silent, and he stares at Artyom.

“Just kill her? Easy enough," he murmurs, not really listening to you other than to forcefully wrap his hands around your frail wrists.

"Kill the bitch and then rape her." With a smile, the blonde moves closer to Nikita, his dick stiffening as he eyes you down.

Nikita’s heart pounds looking at Artyom with slight uncertainty then back at you, he hides away a smile nervous at the idea of fucking.

Nikita mumbles, obviously reserved and unsure of what to say, "She's good enough."

Nikita is nudged aside by Artyom as he grips your hips and draws you in close behind him.

Nikita responds to Artyom's prodding to "grab her hands" by listening to him intuitively.

"Please, I'll do everything you want me. You murmur, "Please don't kill me," turning to face Nikita first and then back to Artyom.

“If you're good enough, we might just..” Nikita replies, expressionless, and then forcibly grips your jaw to divert your attention from Artyom abruptly tugging down your shorts. Your legs tremble from the cold air and the sensation of Artyom's thin, rough fingers gripping your bare ass as you whimper softly in need of comfort. Your hands relax into Nikita's, who looks at you bewildered but accepts it as he gently rubs your hands. Nikita wanted to touch you more, but he knew he was not permitted to do so until Artyom said anything of the sort.

When Artyom realized what was going on between you and Nikita, he moaned and rolled his eyes out of small-time envy. Then, with his thumb pressing on your asshole and his index finger forcing its way inside your tight cunt, you gasped reflexively.

"Whore, don't get comfortable." Spitting into your ear, Artyom He arched his brows in response to Nikita's expressionless countenance. Nikita stepped closer to your figure covering your mouth with his slender pale hand knowing what was to come next, Nikita glanced down at your cunt as his friend finger fucked you slowly, Nikita growing harder himself shyly looking away from your eyes as he sensed it. Artyom knows to move quickly, so he rushes and unbuckles his belt, unzipping his jeans, and letting his dick stretch out. Sliding both hands over your hips, Artyom inserted himself inside of you, gasping at the feeling. He briefly held back, burying his head in the bend of your neck, then gathered himself to pound his hips into yours and huffing softly. Nikita lets go of your hands immediately, seizing a knife from his pocket and pushing it on your throat. He then slides his hands beneath your hoodie, violently gripping your bare tits and slowly rubbing his thumb over your nipple. Sweet, gentle moans and groans come out of your lips.

He murmurs into your ear, breathing heavily on your neck, "Don't dare to speak."

You nod, obviously overwhelmed by what's happening and forced to listen to them while tears stream down your cheeks. Nikita, unable to grind against you because of the position you were all in, slipped up your sweater to have a closer look at your tits as he moved his slender hands up and down your build. He truly admired every inch of your body, He wanted you all to himself though he knew he couldn't win any argument against Artyom.

Both males genuinely needed a good fuck for a while, as Artyom driven into you slowly while trying not to moan aloud. They hadn't never fucked someone before.

With jealousy piercing his heart and manhood, Nikita gazed across at Artyom his eyes then fluttering back to your figured. Artyom dug his fingers into your sides, glancing at Nikita wanting to fuck with him.

"so fucking tight" Artyom mumbled out as he could feel himself coming close. Nikita was impatient and remarked, "Come on, my turn already." Nikita gave a quiet grunt. His hands crept over his belt, waiting to feel something.

"Hurry then," Artyom said, rolling his eyes, giggling and pulling out his still-sensitive dick. He switches places with Nikita, who is observing and gently pumping his dick.

Without wasting any time, Nikita unbuttons and unzips his pants. His long, pleading dick then emerges and slips into your already sensitive cunt from Artyom's pounding, grasping your ass with one hand. Nikita sees himself expand into you and whimpers out. Your cunt hurts at the feeling, and you let out a loud exhale. Nikita pulls you up from your throat by grabbing your hip with one hand. His rough hands would probably leave a trace on your delicate skin. Nikita thrusts into you slowly before picking up the pace as he needs.

Artyom then takes this new position you two were in to his advantage, jerking himself against your torso. Both of the noises coming from the two boys was all too much for you “please ..” you huffed out as Nikita continued to sensely fuck you.

Nikita quickly realized that he was getting close.

He gave a moan and proceeded to fill your tender cunt with his viscous fluids. He huffed as he sprawled across your body, taking a breather before he pulled away. Artyom glanced at Nikita before grabbing you against himself after Nikita pulled out, pushing you down to your knees, Shoving his cock into your throat thrusting twice before cumming, His hands intertwined with your hair aggressively.

“Be good, swallow..” His eyes widened as he watched your face and noticed how your chilly knees were getting red in the snow. In the hopes that they won't do anything more, you comply and swallow.

You are knocked unconscious by the hammer Nikita was using after they had concealed themselves. Both of their hearts pounded from all of it.

Artyom smiled, "Good can't have her remembering."

"Slut, fucking easy" Nikita chuckles. After that, they go back to Artyom's apartment, calling it a night

[btheleaf]

Zaheer kidnaps and tortures Lin

TW: Major Character Death, Rape/Noncon, Graphic depictions of violence

ao3 link

“Tell me where the other White Lotus prisons are.”

Lin opened her eyes. It was getting harder to wake up. She hadn't heard him come in. “This again?” The cuts on her lips reopened as she spoke. “Sad that you’re asking the chief of police. I don’t have that kind of information.”

Zaheer picked her up by the hair and forced her to her knees just to punch her in the face and send her right back down onto the wooden floor. She groaned. She was too old for this. He left the room and she spit out some of the blood pooling in her mouth from the cuts he had gifted her over the past few days.

Good, he could leave.

It was another moment to rest.

The door opened again, and she blinked up at the two figures. Zaheer, she expected. Pema, she did not.

She looked the woman over. Her hair was uncustomarily down and she was only wearing the white shift that typically poked out from the other layers of her dress.

“Trading one airbender for another?” Lin spat at her. “I knew you were a fucking whore.” She pushed herself to a sitting position with her bound hands and glared at the two of them. “What the fuck is this, Zaheer?” she asked roughly.

He grabbed Pema by the arm and pulled her to her knees in front of Lin. “Since you aren’t responding to my methods, we're going to switch things up.”

Lin’s glare fell back on Pema. Now that she was closer, Lin could see the fading bruises lining her arms and collar bones and the healing black eye. The woman was deathly still except for the shaking she was clearly trying to suppress. She kept her eyes down.

Lin frowned and regretted her earlier comment. “Where are the kids?” she asked Pema softly.

Pema finally looked at her but remained silent. She looked like she was on the verge of breaking down.

“Where are the children?” she yelled at Zaheer.

Zaheer moved over to Pema and she flinched. A single tear slipped past her cheek. He moved her hair out of her face and off her shoulder in a mockery of a caring touch. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Her face broke further in terror.

“Pema where are the kids?” Lin tried again. She couldn’t hide the worry from her voice anymore. She thought Zaheer only had her this whole time.

“I—I don’t—”

Pema went down hard from Zaheer’s backhanded blow.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lin scrambled to her feet but was sent back into the far wall from a blast of his element. Her back and head lit up with pain. She picked herself off the floor to see him pulling Pema up by the hair at her nape, forcing her to her knees.

“Tell me about the prisons, Beifong,” he growled.

“I don’t have anything to tell you!”

Pema cried out as he yanked her to her feet and landed a punch square on her nose. Blood dripped down her face and chin, dots of it quickly began to stain her white dress. He kept his hold in her hair as she cried and tried to pull away.

“Stop!” Lin shouted as loud as she could.

“Tell me about the prisons and I’ll stop. I’ll even let my precious lotus flower here tell you all about the children.” His free hand moved to press against Pema's neck under her jaw and Lin could hear her soft whimpers for mercy as she tried to pull Zaheer's hand away.

“I don’t have any information about the fucking prisons! Let her go!”

Lin tried to stand again and was sent careening back into the wall with a forceful blast of air. The wind was knocked out of her. It was much harder to stand this time. She couldn’t even get herself up to her knees before she fell back down in a coughing fit.

Too old for this shit.

She reached out again with her element. Searching for earth, metal, something, anything, but the room was barren. Nothing but wood and paper and ceramic and—The sound of ripping cloth. When she looked back up, Zaheer was tearing Pema’s dress away.

“Stop! You sick bastard! Stop!” Lin screamed and devolved into another coughing fit as she tried to push herself upright yet again.

“Tell me about the prisons and I won’t make you watch what we’ve been doing every night since Tenzin died.” He smirked and pushed Pema down, grabbing her ankle to pull her back when she tried to get away.

Pema sobbed as she pushed him away.

“There’s—there’s nothing to tell you!” Hot tears stung Lin’s eyes. She was telling the truth. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

Zaheer frowned. “Maybe this will refresh your memory.”

[marvelgurl789]

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/51892084"><strong>reader x astarion: "i want an heir. and you're going to carry him for me."</strong></a> (4259 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/simpveggies"><strong>simpveggies</strong></a><br />Chapters: 1/1<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Baldur&#39;s%20Gate%20(Video%20Games)">Baldur&#39;s Gate (Video Games)</a><br />Rating: Explicit<br />Warnings: Rape/Non-Con<br />Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Astarion & Tav (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)<br />Characters: Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Tav (Baldur's Gate)<br />Additional Tags: dubcon, Breeding, astarion breeds you, Ascended Astarion, noncon, Smut, Dom/sub, sub Reader, Dom Astarion (Baldur's Gate), tw, Creampie, Vaginal Sex, Multiple Orgasms, BDSM, the first ever fanfic ive written, Bondage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Bondage<br />Summary: <p>umm basically astarion breeds the reader and treats them like an object for his pleasure/motives!!</p><p>very self indulgent fic</p><p>!!!!!TW!!!!!! dubcon/noncon</p>

[ao3feed-twistedwonderland]

Le Chien en Chaleur

Le Chien en Chaleur by messycunt cw: dubcon/noncon, reader in heat, creampie, petplay, stalking (Rook being Rook), obsession, somatic mess (tears/drool/snot), predator/prey dynamics, heat-induced delirium, dehumanization themes, possessive language You’ve always been a good little thing, domesticated, docile, soft around the edges. Just the sort of lovely beastman Rook likes to keep his eyes on. And he's been doing just that, silently and sweetly. Ever since before he was moved to Pomefiore, he’s been watching you. Taking notes. Following your scent. Words: 617, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 2 of TWST Rewritten Fandoms: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other Characters: Rook Hunt, Reader Relationships: Rook Hunt/Reader Additional Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Creampie, Pet Names, Stalking, rook is his own tw, Crying, Predator/Prey read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/LH6vmna

[problematic-yuri-poll]

Problematic Yuri Tournament Season 2 - Losers' Finals

Suteki na Kanojo no Tsukurikata vs. Murciélago

Suteki na Kanojo no Tsukurikata (visual novel by sushi_soft)

psychological, erotica

Sexual Content: HIGH; Gore: NONE; Violence: HIGH // Eroge, has a censored Steam version.

Mod submission.

Mod-submitted problematic elements:

Yandere protagonist meets a girl who looks just like her first crush and tries to "train" her into her perfect girlfriend. Noncon/dubcon heavy.

Mod-submitted content warnings:

Noncon, dubcon, non-yuri sexual assault, unreality, paranoia, drugging, death, abusive parents, suicidal ideation.

Mod-submitted propaganda:

It's probably concerning that we relate to Sumire. This VN is pretty rough around the edges and leaves its mysteries open-ended, but anyone who wants a yuri where things go wrong and get worse all the time and the protagonist's mental state is in constant decline may appreciate this VN! It also has petplay.

Murciélago (manga by Yoshimurakana)

action, comedy

Sexual Content: HIGH; Gore: HIGH; Violence: HIGH

Submitted 2 times.

Submitted problematic elements:

Main character is a serial killer lesbian. theres incest, rape, body horror, emotional manipulation, among others

Protagonist is a serial killer, sexual predator, and a pedophile. She's basically the worst woman of all time. She also manipulates several women into sleeping with her.

Submitted content warnings:

oh yeah i mean tw for violence, incest, rape, bullying, children in peril and others

Extreme violence and gore, explicit sex, sexual assault, pedophilia, child murder, cannibalism, and just a general mess of nasty stuff

Submitted propaganda:

Its got an actually evil lesbian MC who has a lot of depth. Its funny as fuck and its got really interesting narrative, amazing action and compelling characters. Its also very sexy and beautifully drawn

Kuroko Koumori is the best character in yuri history and absolutely nobody does it like her.

[just-a-whorecrux]

🌸 Veritaserum 🌸

Author: just_a_whorecrux

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Severus Snape

Length: 783

TW/CWs: Noncon, Underage Other Tags: HP Deflower December 2023, Underage Sex, Age Difference, Power Imbalance, Teacher-Student Relationship, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Loss of Virginity, Painful Sex, Anal Sex, no preparation, Blood As Lube, Somnophilia, Creampie, Size Difference, Veritaserum Potion (Harry Potter), Dacryphilia, Rough Sex, Anal Trauma, Virginity Kink, Minor Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Gaslighting

Summary: Severus should not be working with children; any sane individual can see that. He's cruel, impatient… and opportunistic. If given the chance, he will not let his talents go to waste.

Read on AO3 🔒

@knot-your-mothers-mods

[eldritch-spouse]

So incubus kill/fuck their competition to death... If one was to challenge them, would they do the same? How do we know they are winning?

TW: Noncon.

Recall this post.

" Some people don't understand why concubi avoid fighting unless they have to- Their fights are extremely traumatic, as they're often sexual in some manner. One element will seek to sexually overpower another in order to drain them of energy, possibly until they perish. To an outsider, it may look like especially rough sex, but it's genuinely a serious fight. When fighting others who aren't concubi, instincts may still cause lust demons to sexually assault said person. "

Concubi don't fight the same way other monsters and humans do. Their method of combat is almost always some form of rape. Challenging a concubus is inviting them to try to sexually traumatize you. You may be lucky and end up challenging a demon like Santi, who has a fair enough control over his anger/pride, and will simply fluster you out of challenging him, for your own good.

In concubus/concubus fights, you'll know who's winning by keeping track of activity. Naturally, the losing party is running out of stamina, because their energy is quite literally being drained by the current winner, who is only getting faster and harsher as time goes on. Look at their eyes as well, the winner's are getting brighter, the loser's are becoming dull. It's not hard to mistake who's succeeding, they're usually the one in control.

In concubus/non-concubus fights, you'll naturally know who's winning very easily. For as long as the non-concubus is being assaulted, the demon is winning...

[author-confessions]

Rules

No N/S/F/W about characters that are under 18.

If your confession contains elements of generally triggering things (rape, noncon, mindbreak, extreme gore/violence), please put a “CW/TW for [topic]” at the start of your ask. Not just the letters “CW/TW”, but at least say something like “cw gore”.

No positive portrayals of adults being in romantic/sexual relationships with characters under 18.

Please don't use the inbox to namedrop or call out authors or works that you don't like or are uncomfortable with; this blog isn't here to facilitate drama. If you want to complain, please do so without namedropping.

All confessions are put into the queue! So it might be awhile before anything you sent in posts!

Readers are free to contribute and send stuff in, too! The same rules still apply

Disclaimer: We do not condone the things people confess.

[ao3feed-twistedwonderland]

Le Chien en Chaleur

Le Chien en Chaleur by messycunt cw: dubcon/noncon, reader in heat, creampie, petplay, stalking (Rook being Rook), obsession, somatic mess (tears/drool/snot), predator/prey dynamics, heat-induced delirium, dehumanization themes, possessive language You’ve always been a good little thing, domesticated, docile, soft around the edges. Just the sort of lovely beastman Rook likes to keep his eyes on. And he's been doing just that, silently and sweetly. Ever since before he was moved to Pomefiore, he’s been watching you. Taking notes. Following your scent. Words: 617, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 2 of TWST Rewritten Fandoms: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other Characters: Rook Hunt, Reader Relationships: Rook Hunt/Reader Additional Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Creampie, Pet Names, Stalking, rook is his own tw, Crying, Predator/Prey read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Z1Uf6qr