#tw: dub-con discussion

[konigsblog]

König who has a somnophilia kink. (🌽 kink)

TW/CW: NON-CON/DUB-CON, SOMNOPHILIA, DARK CONTENT. MDNI 18+

König knows it's wrong to have sex with you while you're asleep and unable to make a conscious decision for yourself, but he can't help himself from the irresistible, delicious sight. You have the tendency to sleep bare and naked, and König frequently wakes up in the middle of the night after having a night terror, desperate for something to soothe and comfort him. Of course, how can he resist the pretty little thing laying beside him? To König, it's as if you're offering yourself to him, allowing him to take what he believes belongs to him. I mean, if you didn't want to be used like a fuck toy, you would've covered up, right?

Instead of talking about this with you, discussing whether it's alright to take you while you're asleep, König goes for it anyways. He lifts your leg up and grinds against you, admiring your soft facial expressions when he rubs the wet, sticky tip of his hard cock against your cunt back and forth. He breathes out, relaxed and comforted by the familiar sensation of your wet pussy. It's like heaven for König, who can't stop himself despite the terrified and mortified expression on your face when you're finally awoken. He should feel guilty and sickening, but instead of stopping, he gazes into your glassy eyes and promises to be quick and gentle, even if you're already crying through discomfort and fear.

Don't cry, little bunny. You know it's just König and his selfish desires taking over. He'll take good care of your gorgeous pussy, like he always does.

König pushes himself inside your slick pussy and groans out painfully at the tightness, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion and lust as your smooth, soft walls clamp down around his thick base. His grip is firm and leaves indents along your skin, digging into your flesh as he holds you still. He'll quicken his pace if you squirm or tremble, if you whine or weep. Don't you want König to be at ease, relaxed after a nightmare, don't you care about him? Your pussy does wonders for König. Please, Mauschen, let him have you.

“Please, Maus— I need it. You’d give me it if you truly cared, wouldn’t you? You say you care about me, so prove it.” König frowns at you, shame leaving him feeling disgusted with himself. He shouldn't tug at your heartstrings and shame you for not complying with him. He comforts himself by telling himself that it's not rape, that if you really didn't want it, you'd speak up, even if he knows that's not true. You're frozen in shock and don't want to anger your boyfriend.

At last, König finally reaches his orgasm, spurting thick creamy loads of his hot arousal inside of your hole, only to roll over and pass out, his anxieties vanishing from his mind, while you're left shaking, whimpering at the creamy mess left between your thighs and the dirty feeling of König's touch all over your skin.

[im-his-druidess]

The Deal

No one asked for this, but I needed something dark and gross 🤷‍♀️

TW: Dub-Con turned Non-Con; Infidelity; Cheating; Rough sex; Forced sex; Slight fuck-or-die but not really; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; Unnecessary amount of commas

Setting up the arrangement with Charlie Hewitt left a sour taste in your mouth at the way he openly leered at you the entire time, but you just kept thinking about finally going to bed with a full belly to get you through his poorly concealed innuendos and crass language. It wasn’t until you arrived at the Hewitt’s home, telling your husband you were walking to the next town for groceries as an excuse, that your plan began to crumble. The memory of Charlie’s words making fear squeeze your lungs and bile rising in your throat.

Just when you think you couldn’t feel even more worthless, here you were spreading your legs for a man that wasn’t your husband, all for the chance to get food on your table.

Your husband acted just as worthless as you currently felt and invited his parents to move into your already cramped house without discussing anything with you. Four grown adults living in a one-bedroom shack of a house, with your husband barely making enough money to feed you both let alone two more mouths, was enough to want to pull your hair out. Of course, it didn’t help that your mother-in-law found fault in every single thing you did which your husband agreed with to stay on his mother’s good side. Coupled with your in-laws living beyond their means, including gorging themselves on food that you managed to scrap together, which often left you going to bed hungry and riddled with anxiety. So, when you overheard the local gossip hounds whispering how the Hewitt family would give meat from their job at the slaughterhouse in exchange for favors, it didn’t take long for you to come to a steely resolve. It might have been the numerous days without a steady meal, or how you were belittled everyday at your home, that made you snap and jump at the chance.

‘As much as I want a piece of that pussy…I made a promise to my kin. Tommy’s birthday is coming up and it is far past time for him to become a man despite what mama says. So that’s who you’ll be fucking today. If you got a problem with that then you can fuck off.’

He was so matter-of-fact about the whole thing that it made your head spin.

Relief that you wouldn’t have to sleep with that disgusting excuse of a man making you giddy, before realization at his words struck you like white-hot lightening. You’ve only seen Tommy Hewitt once and the memory was seared into your brain.

You had come across him as he lumbered down the main road on his way home from the slaughterhouse and you were frozen in your tracks as his hulking form stalked past you. He was a large burly man, with broad shoulders, huge biceps, and thick thighs, and his dark shaggy hair didn’t hide the fact that he wore some type of leather mask on the lower part of his face.

He still wore his bloodstained apron.

You had reluctantly agreed once Charlie “sweetened” the deal by promising double the amount of food he would give. Now, here you were, propped up on a bench in the shed while listening to Charlie whisper harshly outside the door. From his tone it sounded like he was scolding someone, Tommy to be exact when you heard his slow heavy footsteps nearing the door, and you swore your heart was going to beat out of your chest the longer you had to wait. From the snippets you could hear it sounded like he was giving instructions and you grimaced when you heard him give vivid instructions on what to put in where.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Tommy came stumbling through the door looking exactly like you remember minus the apron. You realized his blunt appearance was because he was being pushed into the room. Charlie gave you a dirty lingering look, shaking his head with a wistful sigh, before slapping Tommy on a broad shoulder before ducking back out.

The door shut with a firm thud and then you were left alone with the behemoth.

Fear and anxiety once more rushed through you fast enough to make you lightheaded, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, and the man lingered almost awkwardly by the door. You dimly noticed that he kept his head down, stealing glances at you and your body through his curtain of hair, and you took a deep breath to gather your courage. The bench underneath you was hard and uncomfortable and you knew the sooner you got this over with the sooner you can go home and forget this entire thing.

With shaky hands you hiked up your skirt, removing your panties so they won’t get lost or ruined, and spread your legs. Your face burned in mortification at your actions, even more so when Tommy’s entire body jerked as if sucker-punched, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide the way he openly stared between your legs with wide blue eyes. You fumbled with the small bottle of oil you brought with you, knowing you weren’t going to get properly wet enough to make things less painful, and you quickly waved Tommy over. He approached slowly as if you were going to bite before settling between your spread legs. With him so close you suddenly realized just how big he was, your thighs straining to accommodate the width of his hips, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a large heavy hand landed on your thigh. His skin was rough and overly warm, thick fingers digging into the meat of your thigh curiously, and you spotted his eyes darting over the rest of your body before settling back between your legs. Your nerves were starting to crumble at his slow pace so you reached down and began unbuckling his pants with trembling fingers.

His entire body tensed up and you mumbled a quiet apology, but your hands continued their work. You knew this was supposedly his first time, but you were anxious to get this over with. Tommy made a low grunting noise as he shuffled on his feet before you got his pants open and his entire body seemed to spasm when you reached into his pants to grab his dick.

You immediately paled at the sheer girth you encountered as you fingers weren’t even close to touching.

He was clearly proportionate to the rest of his body, but that also meant that he was hung like a fucking horse. You let go and fumbled with the vial of oil with a quick prayer for things to be over quickly. You ignored how he jerked his hips closer to you as if willing your hand back as he restlessly pushed his pants down with a grunt to offer you more room to touch him.

His cock stuck out just below his button-down shirt, almost drooping from the heavy weight, and the thick tip was an angry shade of red. You couldn’t help but compare him to your husband. He was larger in every single way, almost laughably so, and you had the brief thought of if you could even get that inside you. It twitched under your gaze. You looked away suddenly embarrassed and saw out of the corner of your eye his hips jerk once more towards you. You felt sweat pool at your lower back, the hot summer air doing nothing to cool you off despite being in shade, and you nervously wiped the sweat beading at your brow the back of your hand. You chided yourself and focused once more at the task at hand.

You poured a generous amount into your palm, nearly half the bottle, and steeled yourself before reaching down to coat him thoroughly. The sound he made didn’t seem human, the punched out garbled growl making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, and you held back your whimper of fright as he thickened even more in your grasp. You tried to not think of how you were going to struggle to take him into your body. You dropped him once he was completely coated and dumped more oil into your hand, steadfastly ignoring the way Tommy panted through his mask. You leaned back while taking a deep breath before reaching down and slathering yourself, working the oil into your cunt while simultaneously trying to stretch yourself with two fingers in preparation. It wasn’t long until you felt calloused fingers brushing against the back of your hand making you nearly shriek in surprise. You whipped your head down to see Tommy had moved closer, eyes completely transfixed between your legs, and you realized he was gripping himself with his other hand.

He was stroking himself at the same pace you were working yourself open.

Unexpectedly, heat simmered low in your pelvis at the sight and you couldn’t help but squirm in place. It was only about a minute later that you could tell he was getting restless, his hand squeezing his cock tight enough to make you wince, and you pretended to not notice him rubbing the weeping tip against your thighs. Tommy suddenly gripped your leg and spread you even further and you did whimper at the pain shooting through your hip at the unnatural position. He began grinding against your hand still buried in yourself, huffing in annoyance when he was denied entry, and you took a shuddering deep breath before moving your hand away to grip the edge of the bench.

“Go…slow, okay? Slow,” you muttered in a raspy voice and the only answer you received was the sensation of something blunt and sticky nudging at you.

He suddenly surged forward in an attempt to ram himself in, making you shriek and kick your pinned leg uselessly, but thankfully he just slid through your wet folds and brushed against your clit. He did that a few more times and was clearly growing agitated.

Even as you tried to weakly soothe him by weakly petting the hand holding you open, but that just seemed to work him up even more. Eventually the head of his cock notched at your entrance and he began to slowly push forward, seemingly learning from his mistakes, and you felt your eyes widen at the stretch. He was impossibly wide, nearly making you scream as your body attempted to reject the intrusion, but he was determined and those dark blue eyes never strayed from your straining cunt. You tried to help by shifting your hips, bracing one foot on the bench to widen your pelvis, and even stretching your other leg out to help ease the tension.

Nothing worked and you couldn’t escape the mounting pressure.

“It’s not going to work…Tommy, you have to stop. It hurts,” you pleaded, beginning to push on his thick chest while wiggling your hips away from him, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. Tommy didn’t like you pushing him away.

With a growl he pulled back, but your relief was short lived as he easily grabbed your hips and flipped you over and resumed his position. One broad palm was flat on your back between your shoulder blades, pinning you in place even as you squirmed and kicked, and you felt him trying to push in again with renewed vigor.

“Tommy, stop! I changed my mind! Get off of me!” you shrieked with growing panic only to have your shouts silenced by the feel of that fat head popping inside you.

Your eyes widened, body freezing and clenching down on reflex, and you barely had time to draw in a breath before Tommy drew back and slammed himself halfway inside you. The scream you let out was ear-piercing and your throat immediately felt shredded from the sound, but was cut off by him rearing back and slamming his hip back into you until he was eventually buried to the hilt.

His croaky moan of pleasure was covered by another scream from you.

Tears were now flowing freely down your face as you howled in pain, feeling as if you were being ripped in half, and you barely noticed Tommy’s other hand reaching down to paw at your wet cheeks as if to soothe you.

He only stayed still for a few seconds before leaning back and beginning a downright brutal pace. His hips were slamming into you with enough force to have the bench beneath you creaking ominously, your pelvis felt like it was going to shatter, and you had the stray thought that no amount of preparation would have ever prepared for you for him. Your gasping cries were short and choppy, from both his frantic pace and the hand pushing you down effectively squishing your lungs, but you still shrieked and yelped for him to stop or at least slow down to let your body adjust.

He didn’t listen.

He seemed possessed, grunting and snarling as he pounded into you mercilessly, and eventually your body went limp. You clawed helplessly against the wood beneath your cheek, blubbering incoherently, and prayed that Tommy would finish quickly. As if punishment for accepting this deal, you were granted no such reprieve.

He continued to rut into you like a mindless beast for what felt like hours, your insides swollen and throbbing as they were pummeled by his thick cock, and sweat was dripping off of him and mingling with your tears as he leaned over you to reach impossibly deeper. It wasn’t until his hips started stuttering and his thrusts turned deep and hard instead of fast and frantic that had you crying in relief at the telltale signs that he was nearing his finish. Then a horrifying realization dawned on you. Tommy wasn’t stopping. Instead it seemed he was spending longer and longer buried completely to the hilt, pressed flush against you as close as he could, and a new wave of terror-induced adrenaline washed over you.

“Not inside…Tommy don’t you fucking dare finish inside me,” you shrieked, renewing your struggles to escape him, and you grew increasingly wild as he only grunted at you.

You began writhing and attempting to twist away from him, kicking your legs and reaching back behind you to claw at his face, anything to get him away from you.

It only resulted in the hand on your back to slide up and fist painfully in your hair, nearly slamming you back onto the table hard enough for you to see black spots swimming in your vision, and his other hand grabbed your hip to further hold you in place. You continued to beg and plead for him to not come inside you, literally anywhere else but inside, but you were steadfastly ignored. His pace suddenly quickened, a low rattling whine escaping his broad chest, and you wailed as he stilled completely buried inside you. You felt his cock jerk and throb followed by a wave of scorching heat soothing your ravaged channel and you screamed in outrage and in despair. Tommy continued to grind into you, riding out his orgasm with small hurt noises escaping his throat, and by the time he was finished you were limp and shivering with shock. Realization of what all just happened rolling through your mind as fast as nausea rolled in your stomach at the feeling of wetness slipping down your thighs. Bile threatened to rise in your throat, silent tears spilling anew down your damp face, and your entire body felt both boiling hot and icy cold.

You wept quietly as he stayed buried inside you. He petted through your hair as if you were a frightened animal, his ragged breathing filling the stuffy air of the shed, and you swore you heard him cooing at you. You felt him lean down and nuzzle the back of your head as his hand moved from your hip to shyly pet over the back of your hand in some twisted form of affection after what just happened. The door suddenly swung open and you didn’t even have the energy to even twitch.

“Atta boy, Tommy! Heard that bitch caterwauling clear down the road!” Charlie shouted with clear glee and humiliation burned in your veins.

You heard the man move closer, no doubt wanting to leer at your crumpled body, but Tommy growled and moved his body more firmly on top of you. As if shielding you from view.

“Aw, what’s this, boy? You finally get your dick wet and now feel like you’re somebody special?” Charlie sneered and you felt the large body on top of you press even tighter to you.

You heard movement around you before a large item wrapped in brown paper tied with twine plopped on the table by your head.

“A deal’s a deal. Don’t be shy now. I’m sure Tommy would love to see you again,” he continued with a wheezing laugh, clearly finding the whole ordeal hilarious, and he walked back out of the shed laughing to himself.

Regret and disgust swirled in your gut at the sight of the paper bag, knowledge of what all transpired making you want to cry all over again, and you let out a small hiccupping sob. Tommy nuzzled into your hair once more, his body relaxing now that Charlie had left, and he resumed his petting. He was letting out a happy garbled sound, clearly not realizing how he had just brutalized you, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt Tommy begin to harden inside you once more.

[annwrites]

give me your wrists.

— pairing: dark!jacaerysvelaryon x femservant!reader

— type: one-shot (?)

— summary: jace spoils you in many ways.

— tw: dub-con

— word count: 960

— a/n: i intend to make a series for this pairing. you can read more about it here.

— tagging list: @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld

Cool metal slides around your throat, rows of shimmering rubies resting atop your breasts.

Your eyes widen as you stare at yourself in the looking glass. "Jace!"

You swiftly turn around to him, only to find a pleased smirk upon his lips. He knew you would have this reaction. Sometimes you think that's why he does it.

He gently runs his knuckles along your soft, warm cheek. "Yes, my sweet?"

Your hand comes up to caress the jewels. "I don't need rubies. Or—or sapphires, or emeralds, diamonds, or—"

"Pearls, then," he interjects with a raised brow. "No, nevermind that. I already purchased you a string of them. Mayhaps something with amethyst next, then?"

You stare up at him in bewilderment. "Jacaerys, this is too much. All of it."

He firmly grips your chin between his fingertips. "It pleases me to gift you fine things. To spoil you. So let me."

He shrugs. "It is an order. Given by your prince."

You stand, wishing to make him see sense. "The gowns—silk and gossamer and tulle. I cannot so much as wear them outside this room, lest someone suspect. Lest they...lest your mother, or Baela, even, discover I am your—your concubine."

He steps a small step closer, leaning down as his fingers slide along the back of your head, burying themselves in your curls.

"Perhaps I should set her aside, then," he states, leaning down, pressing his lips to your pulse, his experienced tongue flicking against it.

He always does this when you try to have any sort of serious discussion about the potential repercussions for the things the two of you have been doing in his bed.

He distracts you.

With sex.

"You cannot jest about such things," you say, your voice a breathless sigh.

His lips come to hover over your own. "I never stated I was."

He presses his lips to your own then, not wishing to hear further arguments. He desires to have his way with you instead.

Again.

He grips you beneath your thighs, carrying you back over to his mattress—the sheets already covered in the both of you from your early-morning escapades—and he thrusts back inside of you.

He grips your chin in one hand, holding your lips to his as his other fists the soiled sheets while he finds his pleasure inside of you.

His skin slaps against yours, your soft breasts bouncing with every thrust of his long member.

Tears prick your eyes at the feeling of overstimulation. "Jace," you say quietly, his lips moving back to your neck as your fingers tangle in his hair. "We've been at it all morn. I—Gods—I'm so sore."

He places his lips near your ear. "I'm not nearly satiated, my love."

You whimper, your chin wobbling. "Please."

He kisses your cheek softly, slamming into you, causing you to sob. "Dragons have large appetites. Mine own will require quite a great deal more attention this day."

"How many—mm—more?"

He presses soft kisses to your tear-stained cheeks. "As many as your prince commands."

"I have finished as it is, ah, five times. Please, Jacaerys."

He glances toward the head of the bed, and then back to you. "Do you wish to use our agreed upon word, then?"

You sniffle, considering. And then you shake your head.

"Give me your wrists."

You stare up at him, your lower lip trembling. "Oh, Gods, not again..."

He takes each of them in-hand, slipping them through familiar loops, tightening. He stands, slick cock slipping out of you and bouncing between his thighs as he repeats the same with your ankles at the foot of the bed.

You watch as he begins to stroke himself, a pounding pulse settled between your thighs now.

He runs his thumb along his weeping tip. "Do you not wish to please me?"

A tear slips down your cheek, followed by another. "I do."

"Then this is how you should achieve it. By being at my complete disposal."

He sits on the edge of the bed, slipping two fingers inside your fiery heat, his seed still leaking out of you from earlier.

He arches upward, gently massaging, and your body jerks in response to his touch.

"It hurts, it hurts!"

He ignores your cries as he presses down with his palm, continuing to tease you, fingers slowly easing out and then back in.

"Gods, I don't...ah, I don't think I can take much more."

He leans down, sucking on your clit for a moment before sitting back up. "You've no other choice."

He begins to frantically fuck you then with his long digits, your limbs tightening, pulling against the ropes, but he knows: you are not going anywhere.

Trying to quiet yourself does little good. You alternate between sighs and groans of pain, and squeals of elation.

He circles his thumb over your swollen, pulsating clit and you gasp. "Please stop, not there!"

He ignores your desperate pleas as he continues, your hands twisting around the ropes, your toes curling.

He presses down on your stomach harder and you stare up at him as you cry. "Jace, please!"

"Nearly there. I can always tell," is all he cares to respond with.

You body tightens, your velvet walls quickly contracting.

"Oh Gods, no. No, please! Not again! I can't, not again!"

"Māzigon."

"Gods, please stop!" You scream as you orgasm, liquid spilling from your cunt, further soaking his already damp sheets as the ropes pull taught.

You begin to bawl then. "It hurts so badly. Please, untie me. I am begging you, My Prince."

He leans over you, readying himself. "As I said, it will be as many times as I command."

With that, he submerges himself inside of you, kissing away your tears, mentally making a note to buy you earrings of amethyst as reward on the morrow.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild (yan!Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader) COD Fantasy AU

You decided to visit Konig's harem. Turns out, they like you as much as the emperor himself. Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator

Word count: 3274 AO3

Your husband has a harem. It didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would – he is the emperor, after all. You’d be more concerned and surprised if he didn’t have an army of perfect women lust all over him – catering to his every whim, to every last one of his perverted desires. You read about kings having harems in books – you think that the king of your country had at least a dozen mistresses, although none of them were an official part of the court. Empire is a bit different in its customs – every territory in its big hold wanted to give the sole ruler their greatest treasure, so the politics could be ensured through maidenhood of their daughters. — Little empress is so shy…is this her first time with an angel?

A woman – you think her name was Stiletto, or something equally sharp – was holding you tightly, her breasts against yours, her hips straddling yours in hold that didn’t make you feel unpleasant. If anything, you loved it. Reminded you of the sessions you shared with the Princess. Something that had to be hidden far, far away. — I would r…I think we should discuss, ah, the further fate of the… She holds you close, her lips on your neck. You whimper, looking back only to see König in a relaxed pose, drinking something – you don’t think it was wine, way too golden for anything like this – out of the transparent, beautifully sculpted goblet. For some foolish reason, none of the women in his harem were particularly interested in him – but you counted at least four who already proposed to make your night better. 

It made you feel ecstatic. 

It made you feel shy. You came to the forbidden part of the palace, the one that almost no one is visiting – with the goal to drag at least a few of the servants by their hair, thinking that it would just ensure that you won’t be poisoned later. You came here expecting to be assassinated by some lovestruck princess – but you were kissed, held, and touched by many of them. Your legs already spread wide enough to reveal the edges of the thin laces of your undergarments, your emperor enjoying the show as the women of his harem made a blubbering mess out of you. 

— Are my women not treating you well enough, little princess? 

— Y…your Highness, this is… You whimper, feeling a soft hand on your breast. König was there too – his palm enveloping your chin, gently tilting it so he could kiss you, your face hidden by the fabric of his hood slowly lowering over you. His kisses are softer now, much warmer than they were before – maybe, finally stealing your virtue prompted him to be softer. Maybe, he knew you wouldn’t be running away or trying to kill yourself anymore – so he was able to share with you the softness he previously kept hidden. Maybe, he was always soft and you just never got to see it – but now you can’t help but stare at his softness, taking in every last inch of it. You feel like a fool, honestly. 

There are beautiful women touching you, whispering sweet nothing to you. There is a beautiful man who is devoted to you completely – who burned down an entire castle and took your country just so he would be able to marry you. Yes, with all of these people – powerful, beautiful, angels and gods walking on this sinful earth, you still felt like a servant. Dirt under their boots – the indoctrination of your class is making it impossible to think of yourself as someone who is worthy of even the tiniest bit of praise. 

You think about your princess – if she is alive or not. If she remembers your sacrifice or curses you for it. The news of your wedding should have spread far and wide, even with the little notice that König gave to the bordering kingdoms – and you wonder what would her reaction be. You are getting too far ahead of yourself, after all, You should know your place by now, all things considered. 

König and the girls – you think one of them was the duchess, send here as a peace offering only to be held up in the lower harem, with the Emperor only seeing her for one time and then retreating back to his chambers – only let go of your when you started sniffling, an action so freakingly ugly for an empress. You should never show your true emotions – you knew this even from your years with the princess, with other servants being as cruel as devils while she wasn’t looking. Perhaps, you still haven’t outgrown this mentality. 

— What’s wrong, meine Liebe? 

— You’re disturbing the Empress, your highness. 

— I am her husband! 

— Maybe, this is why she is disturbed. Are you ignoring her needs too, Your Majesty? 

— I will nit be ridiculed by my…

— Oh, but please, do proceed, our lord. The princess is crying already. 

— You scared her!

— Maybe, she didn’t want to be married. You could send her to harem and make her like us… — And to have you, vile creatures, fuck her till she passes out? — At least we could show you pleasure. Maybe, she’s on edge because Your Highness was…

— I won’t be talking to you about it! 

— Ah, but the Empresses’s distress is evident already, our lord. Do we need to cast a potion for your…

You feel their hands on you again, soft touches mixing with rough fingers caressing your face – your cheeks, your lips, passing into your mouth and making you suck for the tiniest bit of a second, leaving right when you started to feel uncomfortable. You feel loved, so thoroughly, by him and by them – and you don’t feel like you deserve to be. 

You can’t find a real reason to talk to them – so you do your best to shut up, biting your lips that were smeared with makeup so thoroughly. You felt awful, you felt horrible, you felt like you were going to freaking burst because, by gods, there are so many people around you who deserve to be treated as kindly as possible, who deserve to be treated like equals – and yet, you still feel like a servant. Like a bought pet who was dragged to the house where no one wanted to see you and to hold you – and yet, there are so many people, longing to just… You sigh, curling up in a corner. Distasteful display from an empress – but you could worry about assassins and court intrigues the other day. You don’t have the strength to play in the games of these vile women anyway. Not that you would be able to even if you’d want. 

— Meine Liebe, please, you must protect your dignity over those…

— I’m sorry. 

— What? 

Hands are gripping you tighter, suffocating. You shouldn’t mistake their devotion for kindness, their affection for liability. No matter your cries and pleads, they won’t let you go – and even the girls who looked the kindest, the ones who already got your dresses collected and your hair in elaborate constructions, with their soft hands running up and down your breasts, your hips, your rear – were nothing more but a pack of people who used to get what they wanted. And you shouldn’t think that your opinion would matter – but you could close your eyes and think about your country. Close your eyes and try to enjoy it if only for a little while. 

— I’m not…not fitting as a queen. 

One of the girls plummets on your lap, her hair spreading across the floor. You start to pet her out of pure instinct – and you can feel König’s hand in your hair, doing the same. Somehow, the tiniest act made you feel even more like a pet and less like a person with power. Maybe, because you never had power to begin with. 

— Of course not. You’re an empress, not a… You gulp, worry still in your mind. You are surrounded by people who should look up at you – and yet, you feel like a pet, brought to them for amusement. Then it strikes you – then it falls down to your shoulders, heavier than the crown you never wanted to wear. 

A consort empress – no power, no influence, just smile and wave to your people in a pathetic attempt to remind them that you exist. You exist, you exist, for their amusement, for your husband’s amusement, to make the crowd wild with promises of heirs, to make everyone forget what exactly you are doing here. That your job as an empress is to sit back and look pretty, hoping that it would be enough. That it needs to be enough.

— Am I? Seems more like a toy for everyone. 

They laugh – they smile and push their hands on you again, surrounding you with swirls of touches and gentle pushes. Back and forth, back and forth. You feel like a fool falling for something as silly as this – being consumed by lust of not just your husband, but also the women who, by all means, are supposed to take you in and leave nothing behind. You were supposed to swirl around in cort intrigues, not in… A hand moves down your stomach, fluttering just above your labia. Dancing on the gentle skin, caressing in a tingling motion – you moan and spread your legs depsite yourself, despite the feeling of apathy slowly growing in your bones. Your body got so used to constant pleasure, it makes you crave it like the last whore in the whole empire. You aren’t sure who is touching you – but you know that König is nearby, his hand tilting your head to the side, so he could look. Enjoy the view – god, you must look like such a mess right now… — The consort is a toy for the whole Empire, Schatzen. You knew this when you agreed to marry me. 

— You never asked my hand properly, Your Highness. 

— Why would I need to, if I could just chop it off and bring it with me? 

You gulp, thinking again – gods, your choice in marriage is as horrible as the legends say. Especially since there are no legends of him yet – his rise to power is too fast and too early – and since you never had a choice on the matter anyway. Since there is no way you could have escaped this. 

— Would you like it, then? To kill me for spare parts? 

He laughs, and the others followsuit. You feel weird – you don’t understand them, their reactions, you feel like your head is going to burst from all the emotions being contained deep inside. You take a deep breathe and think. Trying desperately not to seem insane. — This would be a waste of a perfectly fine princess. 

— She’s an empress now, your highness. 

— Oh, but she will be a princess to us, ja? They giggle – and you feel dragged to the other room, finally alone. Not as much as you linked to be – König is still there, his hands are keeping you in place firmly. Fingers playing with the edges of your outfit, you feel somewhat sated and drained already. Your maidenhood throbs between your legs, soaked and warm from the touches and nice words of the women of his harem – and you feel weird, knowing that he allowed this infidelity to happen on his watch. At least you knew he never touched a single one of these women, although they were gifted to him. At least you know that he is ready to throw you in for the wolves in order to satisfy you while he is away doing everything an evil ruler should. 

He lets you sit on a chair, pulling you in his lap – an intimate position, the outline of his cock is poking at the outline of your rear even through the skirts of the dress you wore. He pushes his face in the crook of your neck and you feel the tingling sensation of his tongue outlining your skin. You don’t want him to make you even warmer, to play with you more than all of his harem did – but it’s a welcomed distraction. You still feel like an imposter who never deserved to even be here in the first place…

— You do realize that you not being a princess doesn’t matter, right, Schatzi? 

He cocks your head to the side, making you look at him wide-eyed, surprised. You are pressed against his chest, your face dangerously close to his – you want to get as far away from him as possible, but he whispers in your neck like it’s a gospel. You’re inclined to listen. 

You don’t answer – you just let him keep going because, in the end, this is what a good empress is supposed to do, you think. Sit tight and listen and listen and use all of the space in your head to get into theirs. You feel like a fool even trying to attempt this, but…you never listened to the stories about your husband before he came into your life – and now you’re fabulously undereducated on the matters of his life. 

König’s hands are going up, into your cleavage – almost ripping your corset open and not caring for how expensive it was. He has a terrible habit of running every pretty thing he buys for you – and you bite your tongue as to no scold him for leaving your breasts out, the diamonds and ripped seams on full display. You feel like a fool, knowing just how inappropriate he is with you. And how you allow him to do it. 

— I would never accept that stuck-up royal of yours as mine. As a part of the harem, maybe. To forget about her bloody existence. 

You bite your lips, a scowl escaping your expression. You don’t want to act like this, but she was still your princess – whenever she is now, if not dead and forgotten even by her own people. 

— Don’t…don’t speak of Her Majesty like this. 

— What a loyal servant you are, meine Liebe. Why not put that loyalty to me? 

— Do you also need help with wearing your own clothes and warming your jewels? 

— Maybe. If I get to feel your hands on me each time you do it. 

You feel your cheeks burning. Your teeth are clenching, your hands and gripping your skirt, almost ripping the delicate material to shreds. Oh no – you’re getting used to a rich life, not even caring for your own clothes and how expensive it would be to replace them. König kisses your forehead, laughing, and your entire face and neck are burning now – the expression of his affection always makes you embarrassed, even if this is, by far, the most innocent thing he did to you. Much more pure than…no, if you’d start thinking about it, the space between your thighs would be wet again – and you already established just how sinful it would be. 

— You are making it look like I have to worry about every maid who swings her skirt around you. 

— Hm. I don’t think that my maids are half as cute as you. 

— So you went to steal maids from other countries? 

He chuckles, holding your chin in an iron grasp. You can’t turn away and save your graces when he is taking his mask down, smiling like a cat who got the cream. Perhaps, he is just like a cat – a ginger one, arrogant and smug, with rare stubble grazing over your sensitive skin as he plants a sloppy kiss on your lips. He is hungry, devouring you with each stroke of his tongue – the literature made you think that those kinds of embraces should be gentle, slow. You know better now, of course. 

— I knew I needed a wife. People won’t take lightly to their emperor being more and more involved with dark powers – I thought that maybe, having a people-pleasing empress would make a difference. 

He pinches your nipples until they are nice and firm, almost bruising your soft breasts in his hands. He is trying to handle them gently, but he is unable to contain his excitement – and you feel your lower parts clenching around nothing, moisture collecting in your undergarments. König isn’t soft when he is handling you like this, the overwhelming pleasure is risking to make itself known to everyone – by gods, you are tired of always getting handled like this. Like just an afterthought in his perverted desires…but, perhaps, you are just that. 

— It was stupid. I sent the first letter, then the second…and this entitled brat didn’t even bother to answer. I knew she wouldn’t – but it still stings. 

You remember the letters. Remember the annoyed voice of your princess, as she told you to handle them – burn them, toss them away, rip them to shreds, and feed them to the birds passing by. Everyone knew that the emperor already had a harem, and your princess didn’t want to be a part of it – besides, the king already established no connections to the empire, even as it was creeping to his doorstep. 

You also remember writing the answers. Polite ones, short ones – the types that wouldn’t involve you in a political ploy. Leaving the emperor without an answer would be even worse than proclaiming war – wounding a man’s pride is something, that your princess knew how to do well, and also a thing that you knew how to take care of. Always the one to clean up her messes.

— I knew it wasn’t her writing those answers. But I remember how they felt, in my hands. The smells of whatever fragrance you put, ja? 

You also remember accidentally cutting yourself while writing one of the answers – ink mixing with blood on expensive paper, made you think twice instead of changing the paper piece to a new one. Perhaps, if you were truly smarter than that, you’d just toss it away. Unfortunately for you and the kingdom, you didn’t want to waste expensive, fragrant paper. 

— So…you’re saying that…

— It’s your fault, Meine Liebe, really. I fell in love with you since the first word you have written for me. So why would you cry in front of me and my harem like that?

— You’re lowering yourself like this. Being on my level…not something fit for an emperor. 

He laughs, his fingers returning to gently squeeze your nipples together – and then go high, to push your face in place again. König plants another kiss on your lips and dips, his tongue playing over one of your swollen nipples. You don’t want to think about how much your body will change when his seed is going to take – but you know it won’t be long, with how often he pushes himself between your legs, filling you up until you can’t walk anymore. 

— You know nothing about me, do you, Schatz? 

— Thought you wanted it that way. 

— Public won’t take nice to a ruler like me. Not a drop of royal blood. 

You don’t think you knew the stories about him. The rumors, maybe – calling him the bastard king, the one that killed the previous ruler of his country in a soldier’s uprising. It’s all being taken down now, with all the old rich families either getting wiped out or signing their loyalty to the new emperor. The books are being burned and written anew. 

— We’re both servants, little princess. And I would never someone born into this uptight fucking family. 

Hm. A bastard emperor and a fake princess.

You really were made for each other. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Profane.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @elsecrytt.

Pairing: Yandere!Diavolo x Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 7.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Dub/Con (Coercion + Inebriation), Brief Cannibalism, Wildly Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Torture (No Injury To Reader), No Like Literal Torture, Gore, Blood, Possessiveness, Theology, and Past Trauma (Reader's Got Issues). The Dove Was Dead, Got Resurrected, And Is Once Again Dead. Please Do Not Eat.

Barbatos showed you to the garden himself.

Usually, guests as unremarkable as yourself would be ushered in by some lesser demonic spirit, shown directly to Diavolo’s in-home office, and rushed out as quickly as the prince’s unwavering sense of hospitality would allow. You’d been through the process yourself a handful of times since you came to the underworld, gotten to visit the castle on an errand for RAD often enough for the shocked awe to dull into simple wonder, but you’d never been able to see the prince or Barbatos in their own home, and when you received the prince’s package, when you smelled the fresh scent of roses and felt silk against your hands, a part of you refused to believe this could be anything but another request to run a few files from one location to another, an invitation to discuss an upcoming festival or ceremony somewhere less imposing than the shadowy, stiflingly gothic student council room. Part of you still refused to believe it now, in all honesty, even as you walked arm-in-arm with the prince’s butler. Even as you wore the gown he'd sent to your off-campus apartment, a wine-red train trailing half a meter behind you and the fabric of the corset clinging to your skin like spider silk.

Even as you stepped into his rose garden, the rose garden. The rose garden you’d only ever heard about in gossip and rumors. The rose garden that was supposed to be saved for the prince and his select few.

The rose garden you were never supposed to see, and yet.

And yet.

A pavilion had been erected in the center of the innermost ring and decorated for the occasion, cords of red blossoms strung across the obsidian guardrails and a trail of flower petals left out to guide your way. Barbatos left you a few paces away from the pavilion’s steps, bowing his head as he detangled himself from your rigid hold. He spared you no words of comfort, offered you no advice, only letting out a breath of a chuckle as he slipped away and disappeared into the tangle of the garden. It fell onto you to soothe yourself, so you did – sucking a ragged inhale and balling your shirt in your hands before forcing yourself to relax, driving an ounce of tension out of your shoulders and willing your hands to stop shaking as you took an unsteady step towards the pavilion, then another, then another, until you were starting up the short staircase and it was too late to turn around and hide. There was a table let up on the center of the platform, a teapot and matching cups and saucers laid out among a sugar jar and an adorably quaint cream jug. It would’ve been charmingly simple, if the set hadn’t been crafted from pure obsidian and most likely would have cost more than a year of your salary.

Diavolo was at the head of the table, dressed in a suit that matched your gown. The sound of your footsteps drew his attention, his expression brightening as his eyes might yours and a wide, giddy smile you could only compare to that of a lovestruck schoolboy spread across his lips. He pushed himself to his feet hastily, your name falling from his lips with a slight stutter. There was a rose in his hand, but rather than thrust it into yours, he held onto it, opting to pull you into a brief, bone-crushing hug, instead. “I’m sorry to call you here on such short notice,” he said, his voice breathy and the words spoken quickly enough to blur together. “And I, well—” Now, the rose was presented to you, his smile taken on a shy tilt. “I thought it’d be romantic. Admittedly, it feels a little silly now.”

“No, no, it’s very sweet.” You rushed to reassure him, more afraid of making this more awkward than it had to be than genuinely hurting his feelings. You tried to take the rose by the stem, but your thumb caught on an unpruned thorn and you pulled back out of instinct. There was no pain, but when you glanced down, you found a small bead of scarlet, the injury practically nonexistent but an injury, nonetheless. Diavolo’s expression faltered, but you were quick to take up the rose again and tuck anything that might’ve sown any ill-will away. “You were going to tell me why you asked me to come…?”

Immediately, his smile returned in full force. “Please, have a seat.”

A chair was pulled out, a cup filled and sugar cubes dispensed generously. You took the cup in your hands, but didn’t raise it to your lips, only soaking in the gentle warmth as Prince Diavolo cleared his throat and went on, more nervous than a man of his status, a man with so much power over you had any right to be. “I’m sure you’ve already guessed why you’re here. I know subtly isn’t my strong suit.” A slight pause, a hopeful smile. Somehow, the implication of his anxiety alone was enough to make the knot resting in the pit of your stomach twist that much tighter. “We don’t know each other very well, but… I think I’d like to know you a little better, if you understand what I mean.”

Oh, you did.

You’d understood as soon as you saw the low cut of the dress, as soon as you were told you’d be meeting him in privacy.

Still, you played coy, shaking your head as you leaned back in your seat. “I’m afraid I don’t, your highness.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I don’t want you to feel like royalty, right now.” And yet, he’d asked you to meet him behind his castle, attended to by his butler, wearing the gown he’d had tailor made for you. You would to ask how he got a hold of your measurements later on. Actually, you shouldn’t ask him anything at all – it’d be a mercy if you never had to talk to him again. “I’d like to court you. Officially. With your permission, of course.”

It was a thoughtful gesture, but then again, your permission could only count for so much when a flick of his wrist and a half-baked royal decree would change the meaning of consent by its very definition.

You let your eyes fall to the table, then to the rose in your hand. “I don’t know how to say this,” A pair of pursed lips, a decisive beat of silence. “But, I’m not sure, your highness.”

This time, he didn’t bother to correct you. “You’re not sure?”

“As you said, we don’t know each other very well.” You gaze caught on the spot of blood still welling on the pad of your thumb. A minor inconvenience, but still an inconvenience. It’d make handling much of anything a nuisance for the rest of the day. It’d make you pause the next time you thought about taking a particularly beautiful rose by the stem. “And I’m afraid there might be some parts of me that you wouldn’t be so happy with, if you saw them for yourself.”

That seemed to catch his attention. Whereas you leaned back, he leaned forward, arms crossing over the tabletop. “I have to admit, it’s hard to believe that there’s any part of you I wouldn’t be happy with.”

“It’s just,” A thorn in the right place could ruin the entire rose. Hopefully, if you managed to break the skin, he’d give up on you entirely and move on to less pointed flowers. “I have some… appetites that people have deemed difficult to keep up with, in the past. It’s nothing out of place for those in my profession, but I’d hate for you to have to waste your time tending to my desires.”

You could practically see the excitement spark in his eyes, feel it rolling off of him in waves. “Please, go on.”

“It’s too morbid to discuss in polite company,” you said, sparing a glance towards the walls of the rose garden, as if you were wary that someone might be listening in. “But things tend to get gory rather quickly, and I have been known to get a little carried away when I get something sharp in my hand.”

The tea was put aside completely, forgotten in favor of more interesting topics. He didn’t stand, didn’t do anything to close the limited distance between you, but you could tell he wanted to, that he wasn’t taking your threats seriously enough for intrigue to dip into caution, and that was all you needed. “I think you’d look stunning with something sharp in your hand.”

“But I’d hate to waste your time,” you reiterated, bowing your head. “And your subjects might not care for me, once they see what I’ve done to their ruler.”

“We’ll have to keep this our little secret, then.” While you had your doubts about how secret one of his secrets could stay, he was clearly excited enough to buy into the idea that it would be possible. “And, as for your appetites…”

This time, he stood, rounding the table and falling to one knee at your side. For a second, your heart stopped beating in your chest, your mind forcing you to consider the possibility that your vision of rings and proposal might not have been based entirely in paranoid delusion, but he only gestured for your hand and reluctantly, you gave it to him. His lips ghosted over the curve of your knuckles, then turning your hand over in his own, the apex of your wrist, lingering against your pulse point. Finally, he pulled away, grinning up at you as he went on.

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to satisfy that hunger.”

~

You were starting to wonder if, even in your grandest of schemes, your eyes might’ve been bigger than your stomach.

It was old work. Diavolo – as he insisted you call him, despite your best attempts to keep a semblance of formality between you and him – was eager to please, quick to show you he was just as enthusiastic as you claimed to be and dedicate one of the more expendable rooms in his sprawling castle to your little engagements. The tools of your trade were discussed and crafted into familiar shapes: thorns braided into the lashes of the whips, runic symbols you’d long-since forgotten how to read burnt into the leather of the riding crop, a small vial of holy water waiting beside a gold-lined tub of water. Even the dagger you were holding was of celestial design, the blade symmetrical and gilded with pure silver, the hilt molded but not padded, allowing the chill to seep into your palm without reservation.

It was a relief, however small, that you wouldn’t have to use the demonic weapons you’d nearly gotten used to. In the Devildom, suffering was just another tool, something to be used when convenient and drowned out with needless hedonism when not. In the Celestial Realm, suffering was holy.

There was nothing holy about this, though. You’d had the foresight to restrain him, binding his wrists and ankles to each poster of his grand bed with enchanted chains, but he offered no resistance. Even brought low enough to fall into his demonic form, to show himself with leathery wings sprouting from his back and gold-adorned horns curling upward from his scalp, he retained as much of his composure as you could expect him to, keeping his claws curled into his palms and dulling his fangs with the occasional whimper or sudden gasp. When you dragged the point of the blade from the spine of his wing to the small of his back, he arched as if leaning into your brutal touch and clenched his eyes shut, but he didn’t scream. You almost wished he would. At least then, you’d be able to tell if you were making progress.

It was old work, but more importantly, it was work you’d been good at, once upon a time. Your mind might be out of practice, but your hands remembered how to move, how to cut, at just what angle to hold your dagger as you slid the flat of the blade into the incision. It was a delicate balance; applying enough force to cut through the connective tissue without tearing the epidermis. There was a slick sound from underneath your knife, a half-choked groan from Diavolo, and skin separated from muscle, leaving both intact and swimming in an agony of their own. It was beautifully precise, the kind of workmanship that should’ve gotten you a promotion. You could only regret that it was wasted on Diavolo.

Thick, dark blood washed over his tan skin, spilling out in every direction and distracting you from your task. With a disgruntled sigh, you turned to your supplies and took up the most limited of your precious tools: common table salt, imported from the human world and kept in a simple glass jar. You’d always known it had purifying properties that demons didn’t care for, but it’d surprised you just how difficult it was to get a hold of in the Devildom. Diavolo was strong enough to withstand it without being reduced to a pile of smoldering ash, but hopefully, the burn would be more than he cared to endure.

With great care not to get any on yourself, you took up the vial of holy water and undid the bottle’s seal, dampening the blade of your dagger with a generous portion. “Did you know that holy water can’t be diluted?” You asked, idly, taking one of the larger salt rocks between your thumb and forefinger and crushing it, savoring the slight sting before spreading the fine residue over one side of your blade. “My boss didn’t – used to lecture me for wasting it. You should really be more selective about your staff, down here.” You paused, bringing the point of your dagger back to Diavolo’s skin. You found your target quickly: the flesh over his shoulder blade, where the tissue was thin and the bone prominent. You drove it down with just enough force to break the skin, and in an instant, you were rewarded with the smell of burning flesh. “It was one of the first miracles the guys upstairs performed on Earth, after the humans realized they could it themselves without divine intervention. Remember to spare a drop for the next batch, and you’ve got an endless supply – as good as if it’d come from Micheal himself.”

You returned to the first incision, sliding your blade back into the slit you’d just carved. There was some resistance – Diavolo’s regenerative abilities were second to none, just as you’d expected from demonic royalty – but with grit teeth and a quirk of your wrist, you pushed through it, spreading your little concoction across raw, bleeding muscle. This time, Diavolo screamed, the sound animalistic and agonized and exactly what you were looking for. It reminded you of wind chimes, of church bells, of a timbre voice congratulating you on a job well-done as you stood over the maimed remains of a breathing corpse. Eager to chase that satisfaction, you pressed down harder, cutting into the muscle of his back before jerking your dagger back, ripping through tissue and flesh and leaving carnage in your path. You couldn’t just smell burnt flesh, this time – you could practically taste it, coating your tongue like ash and filling your lungs like smoke. Everything your blade touch seemed to melt, to scorch, leaving a filthy black char slashed across Diavolo’s back, infecting the wound you’d inflicted. If you were at work, if he were anyone else, you’ve taken it further, watched the blisters form down the curve of his back as you slowly and melodically removed each unnecessary vertebra of his spine, but he was a prince, and your goal wasn’t to kill him. You just had to make him wish he was dead when he was with you – that was all.

You dropped the dagger onto the stone floor, sucking in a harsh breath as you shook out your stiff fingers. You considered the whips, elegant in their design and brutal in the affection, then the golden tub, how good it would feel to string your fingers through his hair before you shoved his head below water, but the former would leave too many marks too quickly and the latter would’ve taken more preparation than you’d cared to make. Instead, you chose something you were less familiar with – a length of braided silver, leather handles molded onto either end. You slung it over your shoulder as you climbed onto the bed and straddled his waist. Out of instinct, his wings shuttered, moving to fold themselves against his back, but you grabbed the arch of his left wing’s spine and forced it flat against the velvet sheets, holding it still as the appendage squirmed and thrashed below you. “No fighting back,” you muttered, because it was what you’d agreed on as you stepped over the threshold to his little homemade torture chamber, because it seemed like the last thing you’d want to hear when you were at someone else’s mercy. “Remember why I’m doing this. If you don’t want to take, I don’t need to give.”

“That’s not—” Heavy panting between each word, all attempts at speaking soon forfeited in favor of an airy gasp. You waited for him to settle, driving a nail into the delicate membrane of his wing for each second he failed to spit something out. “I understand,” he said, eventually, marking the first full thought he’d managed to express since you finished restraining him. “Keep going.”

You didn’t move. “Is that how you’re going to talk to me?”

A dry swallow, a moment of hesitation. A demon’s pride was a difficult thing to put aside, even for a demon like Diavolo. “Please.”

 If he’d been anyone else, you would’ve made him grovel.

But, you could only ask so much from such a spoiled prince.

“Raise your head.”

No pet names, no dark humor, no purring or cooing or anything spared to soften the words. He obeyed, tilting his head back and letting you wrap the cord once around his neck once, because anything more than that would only spread the agony, make it that much easier to differentiate from the feeling of your weight against his back, dampen the awareness that it was your hands holding the end of his noose. You wanted him to know it was you. As you pulled the cord taut, you pictured him lying in his own bed hours later, blood washed away and wounds bandaged. After the adrenaline was gone, the excitement replaced with hollow exhaustion and the cold absence of affection, would he cry? Would the pain get to him first, or the misery of it all, the aching realization that what you were doing to him wasn’t something people did to those they loved? Would he curse your name, any heartbreak stifled by pure loathing for the person who left him in such a state of desperation? Would he hate you?

“It’s not the tightness that leads to suffocation – another common misconception. Your guys already knew that one, though.” Crossing both ends of the cords over one another, you cranked them tighter, then tighter again. Admittedly, this kind of thing wasn’t your strong-suit – you’d never been the type to rely on raw strength alone – but the sturdiness of the cord did most of the work for you, winding into itself and biting into his skin without cutting into what laid beneath it. Or, without cutting into yet, at least.

“It’s the pressure,” you said as you leaned over him properly, planting your knees in the plush of the down-stuffed mattress. “That’s the real trick - being able to apply enough force to crush the windpipe and cut off the lungs. From there, all you have to do is—” You paused, letting out a soft, strained groan as you pulled the cord ever-tighter. If you let go of the handles, it would’ve held its shape, but it felt cruel to be so impersonal. “—sit back and watch.”

There was a whimper by way of response, more pleading than pained. His mouth fell open, something that could’ve been generously interpreted as the beginning of a word falling past his lips, but you took mercy on him, clicking your tongue as you braced yourself for what came next. “Relax, I’m not going anywhere.” And then, after a second of thought, “Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to hang to death, your highness?”

Even if he could answer, you wouldn’t have let him. You hauled him upward suddenly, letting the cord rise to the sensitive junction just underneath his chin and winding it farther, farther, until it made good on its threats and a thin cut formed across the curve of his throat, a twin laceration appearing on the other side a few seconds later. He struggled underneath you, attempting to maintain his composure and control his breathing until instinct took over and he was left gasping, sputtering, trying to force air back into the lungs you controlled, now. Despite yourself, the corners of your lips curled upward, a profound satisfaction flooding through your veins and momentarily blocking out what little rational thought remained. Diavolo was depraved, but this was your line of work, your field of expertise. You felt phantom hands on your shoulders, lips ghosting over the top of your head. You deserved to be happy, when you were doing so well at what you were meant to do. You deserved to take pride in a job well-done.

Struggling, struggling, then release. His shoulders dropped, his form going limp, and just as his eyes threatened to close and his mind gave out completely, you let go of the cord, letting it fall back to the base of his throat. It took a few more seconds to detangle, another to rub the lingering salt on your fingers into the new cuts on his neck. While he panted, drooled, made a mess of himself, you basked in your holy reverence, newly purified by the sacredness of your responsibilities. You remained there, in that state of simple contentedness, until Diavolo broke the silence.

“Is that—” A harsh breath, a fit of coughing. Your mind supplied the rest of his question automatically. Is that enough? Is it over, now?

You almost smiled, almost told him that it’d be over as soon as he decided that he couldn’t handle you, anymore, but he went on before you could, his tone playful despite the blood now seeping into his sheets. “Is that all?”

You felt something very heavy and very sharp fall into the pit of your stomach. “Of course not,” you said, because that’s what you were supposed to say. Because when they asked for more, you were supposed to give it to them.

Because, if he wanted more, you’d give it to him until he couldn’t stand the thought of ever letting you touch him again.

“We’re just getting started.”

~

You could get to the rose garden on your own, by now.

Lucifer and Barbatos were already seated in their usual places, both looking uncharacteristically relaxed. Barbatos’ smile got a little brighter as you approached, and after you’d slid into your designated seat, Lucifer greeted you with a clap of his hands, a lilt to his posture. “I assumed you and Diavolo would be arriving together.”

You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth. You’d learned quickly, within the first month of Diavolo’s proposal, that you’d been right to assume you wouldn’t be able to keep it yourselves for very long. Still, it surprised you just how quickly he told Lucifer and Barbatos about your little trysts. “He’s still cleaning up.”

Barbatos’ constant smile took on a teasing quirk. “What a heartless lover you are, to leave him alone in a state like that.”

“He knew I wasn’t the doting type going into this.” It wasn’t a lie. You’d never claimed that any part of your attention would be the loving kind, that whatever polite affection you showed to him when he dragged you out to upper-crust restaurants and diamond-studded nightclubs and parties with only the Devildom’s most elite in attendance wouldn’t extend to the time you spent alone together. Love was a pretense, not a necessity. You could only hope Diavolo was tender hearted enough to be hurt by your callousness. “You’re the babysitter, here. Shouldn’t you be the one patching him up?”

He moved to respond, but Lucifer was quick to cut in, leaning forward as he spoke. “Have you two already—” A coy smile, a vague gesture with a gloved hand. You weren’t sure what’d gotten into him. You’d never seen Lucifer or Barbatos so giddy, even if the extent of their excitement seemed to be a few probing questions and a new willingness to bare their teeth without snapping at your throat. “—well, I’m sure you know.”

You swallowed, dryly. The idea of sex hung over your relationship like a funeral shroud, weighing the heaviest when you stepped over the threshold and into whatever makeshift dungeon he’d chosen for the two of you that night, when he spared you a smile that meant he could only be expecting one thing.  You didn’t want to know what would happen if he continued not to get it, but you didn’t want to sleep with him, either. You didn’t want to sleep with him. You didn’t want to give up that much of yourself, to fall that deeply into the den of vipers you couldn’t seem to claw your way out of. You knew, rationally, that you were already as tainted as you could possibly be, that Diavolo couldn’t possibly touch you in way that was worse than how you touched him, but your heart refused to give up on the idea that you weren’t beyond redemption, just yet.

Surprisingly, Barbatos came to your defense, although you couldn’t say he sounded very empathetic. “Keep your mind out of the gutter,” he said, in a way that implied that this was a subject they’d already discussed in-depth. “You know how hard it can be for fallen angels to adjust.”

“Not every fallen angel. It only took me a decade to make a name for myself.” He’d also made the choice to fall, but you thought better than to say that aloud. “It’s just a matter of getting a taste for it. Let them take the plunge now, before our little prince loses patience.”

You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as the weight of two hands settled on each of your shoulders, as you felt Diavolo press a kiss into your cheek. You bit back a grimace, but the contract was mercifully fleeting, gone as soon as Diavolo straightened his back and directed his attention to the rest of the table. “What am I supposed to be so impatience about, exactly?”

Lucifer was quick to change the topic. “I was starting to think that you’d forgotten about us.”

Rather than turn to Lucifer, his eyes fell back to you. You could feel his stare, awful and adoring, boring into you as he spoke.

“As if I could ever think of anything else.”

~

You found yourself undressed and barely conscious on a golden rug in front of a searing fireplace a few days later.

Your body felt lighter than it should’ve been. In hindsight, you’d had too much to drink to be around another person, let alone underneath one. You’d thought, foolishly, that another sip, another glass, another bottle of wine would help to settle your nerves, to make you seem like an easier conquest than Diavolo would’ve liked, but all it’d done was make you too easy to turn up – prey that’d already been left to bleed by some other conveniently absent predator. It might’ve been your own fault, for assuming Diavolo would show more courtesy to you than you’d ever shown to him. It might’ve been your own fault, for going out of your way to pretend you so genuinely couldn’t tell the difference between cruelty and love.

Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear. You could hear footsteps somewhere in the muddled distance, make out a song of a hum just above the soft crackling of the fireplace, and then, he was back, settling onto the mess of sheets and pillows beneath you, an overfull goblet in one hand and the other suddenly cupping your cheek. He wore nothing, save for the chokingly tight collar of silver chain you’d wrapped around his neck hours ago. You could remember holding a tether, feel the strip of leather biting into your palm, but you must’ve let go of it at some point. Whatever happened, it was gone now.

Drifting lower, you could see where your nails had cut into his chest, his back, his throat. You might’ve bitten him, too – you could taste something heavy and metallic on your tongue, but it would’ve been impossible to tell if it was his blood or your own. He’d made no attempt to hide your marks, to wash the remaining blood and slick and saliva off his skin. They were filthy creatures, demons. Filthy, and sinful, and undeserving. If you had your way, they’d be left to dwell in their vile hedonism for the rest of time, left alone to their self-indulgent wickedness until they all began to rot. Or, better yet, brought to some great altar built to celebrate their demise, their beating hearts carved out and offered up in repentance. You’d do the butchering yourself, if you had to.

You wanted to dip yourself in a vat of acid. You wanted to bathe in light. You wanted to scream and thrash as Diavolo took your hand, then your wrist, dragging you into a sitting position until you could you had to rely on your own unsteady posture to keep yourself up-right, but you didn’t, didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound as he brought the goblet up to your lips. Sacrament, you thought, as you swallowed down as much of the sweet wine as you could before he took that away from you too, replacing the goblet’s mouth with his own. You didn’t kiss back, didn’t throw yourself against him and beg for his love, his attention, but he pulled away with a satisfied hum. “I think this might be when you’re the most beautiful,” he sighed, cupping your cheek. “In my home, painted with my marks, silhouetted by the firelight…” He let his shoulders drop, and his tone took on a wistful lull. “It’s a breath-taking sight, and you don’t know how much relief it brings me to know that I’ll be the only person to ever see it.”

Your eyes fell to the rug, nearly gaudy in its splendor. You swore to yourself that, if you ever managed to get away from Diavolo, you’d never willingly lay your eyes on a single piece of gold again. “Does…” You started, then trailed off, bowing your head before going on. “Does it ever bother you, knowing I don’t feel the same way?”

You wanted to be more transparent, to say that would never love him, to make it clear that all you’d ever try to do was hurt him, but even to your loathing-addled mind, the words sounded too harsh, too cutting with too little to gain from choking them out of your sore throat and past your bruised lips. Then again, what you actually managed to say didn’t seem to hurt him enough – his smile only taking on a softer note as he leaned forward, letting his lips ghost over your forehead. “Sometimes,” he admitted, with less strain than you’d expected. Less strain than you’d known you were looking for, before he responded so easily. “But not often. Not at all, when I have you with me.” He paused, brightened. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to love me?”

He was better than you. He was stronger than you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything at all.

~

You rarely said anything to Diavolo at all, anymore.

Not that he minded. It was the shape of you by his side that he liked, more than anything – the feeling of your eyes on him, the awareness that if you were on top of him, you couldn’t be anywhere else, with anyone else. He was kind enough to explain his obsession in more depth after you first summoned the courage to ask, to tell you about his possessive urges as you raked a barbed whip across his back, to recount the names of those he’d rather die than lose you to in gasped breaths while you forced his head into a vat of holy water. There was sex, sometimes, when you thought you could stomach it, when it seemed like your usual pastimes wouldn’t be enough to stop him from resorting to less mutual shows of affection. You were more distant on those days than most.

You were more distant today than you’d ever been before. It was almost like ascension, astral projection – you couldn’t recall ever feeling so totally disconnected, only vaguely aware of the gentle throbbing in your cunt, the heat dripping down the inside of your thighs, the feeling of Diavolo’s teeth burrowed into your shoulder. You’d been lax in your preparation, too strung-out to really care if he got away. His ankles were unrestrained, his wrists bound behind his back with little more than a length of bronze cord embedded with thorns, not unsimilar to those you’d find in his beloved garden. They were strong enough to cut into his skin, sturdy enough to tear when he thrashed, and if you were more yourself, you might’ve been able to admire the craftsmanship, the thought that must’ve gone into each and every pinprick of suffering. You weren’t, though, and you couldn’t really bring yourself to appreciate much of anything.

He was making those sounds, again. Even in the face of your vow of silence, he was so fucking noisy – always whimpering or whining or moaning unabashedly while you dragged the blade of your dagger up the length of his spine, dispassionately watching skin split open and hot, crimson blood trail down his arched back. There was a raspy groan, a pair of pointed canines lodged that much deeper into your flesh, then you felt his cock twitch inside of you, still hard despite your motionlessness. It’d been months since the last time he let you take someone else apart, make someone cry in agony without having to listen for something less wholesome playing underneath the surface. If it hadn’t been for the raised lash-marks across his chest and thighs, the feeling of his blood washing over your skin, you’d be tempted to think you were the one being tortured.

With a half-swallowed sigh, you rolled your hips against him, letting your eyes fall shut and total, absolute numbness wash over you in heavy waves. It would’ve been a valuable skill to have a few hundred years ago, when you were constantly being reprimanded by your higher-ups for not being able to remain as stoic as your fellow acolytes, for caring too much about the responsibilities they’d assigned to you minutes after you came into existence. It was hypocrisy, bold and shameless. No one batted an eye when Simeon exorcised a small army’s worth of demons, when Micheal took to the human world with plagues of locusts and rivers of blood, but you were punished for believing what you’d been told, for holding yourself too close to the holy light. For doing your job and doing it well.

Diavolo drifted, drawing back just far enough to bury his face in the side of your neck, to press himself so suffocatingly close to you. You felt the ghost of a hand on the small of your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as a softened voice whispered platitudes of family and forgiveness and virtue, as it offered hollow promises of prayer and purification and, worst of all, love. He said you’d be able to go home, one day, after your penance in the shadows, after you realized how lucky you were to serve in such a benevolent cause. He promised he would bring you home.

Diavolo tilted his head back, his dark eyes meeting yours for the first time since you’d gotten him underneath you, and something in the hollow, frigid depth of your chest cracked open. There was nothing graceful in the way you drew your knife back, nothing purposeful in the way you drove it into his chest. You pictured vital veins and arteries, listed off organs even a demon wouldn’t be able to live without, but all planning and precision was lost in favor of driving your blade into him with wild abandon, plunging your knife into anything you could reach and twisting – turning anything you touched to viscera. Tissue was torn to gory ribbons, muscle diced and shredded, his skin soon little more than a failing barrier between you and what you were trying so desperately to tear out of him. You bounced on his cock as you worked, ignoring the way it throbbed against the walls of your cunt as you dedicated yourself to your task. When your dagger had outlasted its usefulness, you dropped it and took to using your own wretched, unforgivable hands. You found the spines of his ribs easily, tore through them with only the slightest amount of strain. You only noticed Diavolo was moving when you started to push into his diaphragm, his arms straining against his restraints as he thrashed beneath you ��� trying to free himself, or knock you away, or do something that stopped you from getting what you wanted. From hurting him in a way he couldn’t get off on. From letting you ever return to the paradise you deserved, the paradise you were owed.

His teeth burrowed into your jugular. He wasn’t trying to mark you, anymore – he wanted to end you before you ended him, to survive longer than you planned to let him. It wasn’t enough, though. You swallowed down the pain, muttering prayers under your breath as you surged forward and taking hold of the pulsing muscle in his chest. You felt something hot and awful flood into your pussy – a bodily reflex, you figured, although you’d start to doubt that in the near-future – but ignored the filth flooding into your veins, forced yourself to focus on taking hold of his beating heart and tearing it free from its restraints, from its bondage. Cupped in your palms, you carried it out of your chest with all the love and all the care of a midwife bringing life into the world, and finally, finally, finally, Diavolo went limp underneath you, lips parted and form limp. You let out a sob of relief, dragging yourself away from his unmoving body and onto the cold, stone floor; your legs giving out seconds later and leaving you in a crumpled heap, as useless as you’d always been.

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you brought Diavolo’s heart to your lips and swallowed it whole, its warmth lingering on your tongue for seconds. Then, you pulled your legs against your chest, buried your face in your knees, and started to cry.

You were allowed to dwell in your misery for one blissful, liberating second before that was brought to an end, too. “My love?”

You didn’t move. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It was just another ghost sent to haunt you, another punishment for letting yourself think of anything but your orders, your responsibilities. When you heard metal snap, when you felt a hand on your shoulder, you only curled deeper into yourself, digging your nails into your thighs as something bloody and blasphemous settled beside you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to cry.” You wished you still had your wings, something to curl around yourself. You wished you could feel the sunlight again. “Was I not convincing enough? We can try again, if you’d like.”

You wished you could be anywhere but here. “Get away from me.”

“Having one of your little episodes again?” He worked a hand under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back. His chest was still covered in blood, flecked with bits and pieces of himself, but you couldn’t make out a trace of the gaping wound you must have inflected onto him, couldn’t seem to put what you were looking at together with what you’d just done. It was a visible untruth your mind just couldn’t seem to make sense of, an unignorable mistake in the fabric of reality that no amount of staring could correct. Diavolo sighed wistfully, the noise heavy with tender affection, and his hands fell to your waist, hauling you onto his lap as he’d done so many times before.

You could still taste the bitter meat of his heart on your tongue, still feel the mass of muscle and sinew lodged in your throat, and yet, as your head settled against his chest, you were met with that tell-tale beating, as strong and as steady as it’d ever been. As if you hadn’t accomplished anything. As if you hadn’t done anything at all. “You’re a handful,” he said, pressing a shallow kiss into your temple. “But you’re mine.”

He dipped lower, moved to kiss you, but you weren’t willing to wait as long as it would’ve taken him to reach you. With jerky, erratic movements, you shifted onto your knees, strung your arms around his neck, forced your mouth against his before he could do the same to you. There was a startled sound, a tightened hold on your waist, but Diavolo melted into your sudden affection quickly enough. Your skin crawled, your thoughts spiraling, but you didn’t care. You weren’t sure you’d ever care about anything again.

You’d already been forced out of paradise, tainted beyond redemption and stripped of any hope of returning to the light.

The least you deserved was to enjoy your eternity in the darkness.

[kyoshi-week]

KYOSHI ERA WEEK 2024:

RULES & TAGS

To commemorate The Rise of Kyoshi's 5th anniversary, The Kyoshi Era Week 2024 will happen from July 14th to July 21st! Please, save the date and start planning!

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[nardo-headcanons]

Yandere Itachi HCS please (can be either SFW or NSFW)

tw for unhealthy/toxic behaviors and relationship/power dynamics, implied nsfw, dub!con

Headcanons for Yandere!Itachi

a/n: gn!reader. thanks to @naruto-scribblings-j for requestiong.

SFW

Poor Itachi wouldn't even take much to turn yandere mode. There's only so much loss and manipulation one can go through before going off the deep end. He is the protective type. The type to smother you with overprotectiveness and even outright controlling behavior.

He is very busy with his akatsuki duties and trips to the medics to acquire medication for his illness, and he has no problem lying to you about it. Lots of excuses, but they're so convincing you won't notice. If you DO happen to notice his lies, he'll shut down the discussion and outright block any attempts to discuss it.

In order for him to become that overly protective over you he must have known you for a long time. Like, childhood friends or teammates or something like that. To him, you are the one slither of his previous life he has left, the beacon of innocence.

You would feel rather smothered and infantilized by his behavior, yet at the same time you can't really do much about it except waiting for the day either Sasuke or his illness put him six feet under.

If you're in Konoha, he'd use his crows to spy and stalk on you and report your whereabouts to him 24/7. A part of Itachi knows that what he is doing is wrong but to him it is a necessary evil that he is forced to do to protect someone he loves.

If you're a rogue though, he's gonna try to capture/kidnap you. It depends on your occupation as a rogue. If you work for anyone but Akatsuki, maybe even bring you back to the village where he thinks you're safer. If you DO try to join the Akatsuki, he couldn't outright stop you without blowing his cover, but he would try to manipulate you into leaving.

NSFW under the cut

NSFW

Itachi wouldn't force himself on you. He'd actually keep his safe distance until you succumb to his manipulation consent to his advances.

He'd turn you into being his pillow princess (yes I am using this term neutrally) and never let you do any of the hard lifting unless you absolutely pester him about it.

IRL, he won't do any thing that causes actual physical harm to you, no matter how much you beg him. He can't fathom the thought of brusing your delicate skin. Will, however, praise you for taking him so well to a point of almost coddling you.

That being said, in his Tsukuyomi world, almost anything is fair game, as long as you beg for it. Whether it be hard- or softcore things, he will leave you a shaking, whimpering mess - completely at his mercy.

[littlebluespoon]

Folie A Dix ~ Une

AO3 Link

For @auspicioustidings <3 Thank you for the idea, I am now consumed by it.

TW: 18+ MDNI, AFAB reader, Poly Stuff, Kinda Dub-Con as the exact circumstances aren't negotiated, Spanking, Oral sex, Explicit Language

~~~~~

You can remember exactly when this odd arrangement started. John had called to say he’d be working late again and that he couldn’t make date night but that you weren’t to worry, he’d sorted something out and you wouldn’t be missing your reservation and you should wear that pretty green dress he bought you. Safe to say, when Simon Riley showed up that night and escorted you to dinner you were confused, even more so when you got home and John picked up the conversation exactly where Simon had left off at the door. Simon hadn’t even said good night, just opened the door for you. There was no room to question it so you wrote if off as a one off, John not wanting you to miss out on something you’d been looking forward to. And then it happened again.

John had unexpectedly been called to base to deal with an incident while you were out shopping. You’d told him that you’d be fine with a taxi but he insisted he’d sort it. So twenty minutes later when Johnny showed up and started picking up things off your list and saying things like “Oh, we’re nearly out of this.” and “Why don’t you get it? It looks perfect on you!” when you tried on a dress. And once again, John acted like he’d never left your side. So it became routine, if John wasn’t there then one of his colleagues was. Simon, Kyle, Johnny, Keegan, Nikolai, Alex and even Farah and Kate on occasion. It just became part of your life and as you were getting used to it, it took another turn.

You’d felt pent up all day. Restless and full of energy that not even deep cleaning the kitchen helped with it so you had baked. And baked and baked. You had several trays of brownies and blondies and no intention of eating them all. So you packed them up and headed to base knowing full well that John would have several and the rest would be gone in minutes. Except you still felt restless.

~~~~~

You found John swamped with paperwork in his office with both of his sergeants. They all looked like they could do with a break and you had plans for John.

“Hey boys, I made some baked treats if you want to go hand them out?” Taking the cue you’d given them Gaz and Soap gave their thanks with kisses to your cheeks and rushing out with brownies in their mouths while John looked on with a fond smile. 

“Love, why don’t you take a break? Have a sweet treat?” winking at him, you set a small tub of blondies off to the side while climbing onto his desk before reaching forward for a slow, wet kiss.

He let you have your fill for several minutes, kissing your way down his neck while pulling at his uniform shirt in an attempt to get it off. It was with a groan that he pulled away from you and captured your wandering hands,

“Hang on Love, I gotta get these forms done before three.” It was all he could do to not melt at your pout. He stood up and moved back when you reached forward again,

“Go lie on the couch Love. Skirt up, panties off. I just gotta get something.” He was out the door before you could reply, moving hastily he slammed the door behind him.

You and John had a relationship that was full of pre-discussed rules and boundaries. You knew what he expected of you when he gave an order and what would happen if you didn’t comply. The couch in his office had bourn witness to quite a few of the order he’d given you and this one was a familiar one. It was routine. It had been discussed, practiced, perfected. So as you lay down, cunt bared to the world, the last thing you expected was for Simon to walk through the door and John in behind him.

Scrambling to cover yourself you froze at the harsh bark from John,

“Doll. Is that what you were instructed?” He raised an eyebrow at you and watched as you shook your head and returned to your previous position. He made his way back to his desk while Simon position himself between your legs,

“You treat my people well Doll. You treat them almost as good as you do me, it’s time they returned the favour. My people, my people who follow my orders, who do my bidding. My people, who treat my wife for me, under my orders. My people, my orders, my hands.” There an odd look on his face, one you don’t recognise.

As your eyes never leave his, you stare as he settles back behind his desk. He picks up a pen and a blondie and starts to fill in the forms he’d been interrupted from. So caught up in what John was doing, you missed what Simon was doing. His hands had worked their way around your thighs and settled on your hips. The hips he had pulled towards himself and now had his head between. You could feel his warm breaths on your lips but even they could never have prepared you for his tongue. In one action his tongue had licked its way from your asshole, up the length of your cunt and around your clit before making its way between your folds and feasted like a starved lion.

“Si- Simon! W-Wh-“ Your mouth couldn’t vocalise what you were thinking as you tried to question him but it wasn’t Simon who answered,

“That’s not the name you scream Doll. After all it’s not Simon’s mouth who’s on you is it?” He wasn’t even looking at you, too distracted by those damn forms, “My people, my mouth, my hands Doll. Me. It’ll only ever be me that touches you.” His tongue darted out to lick up the remnants of blondie around his mouth at the same time as Simon swirled his around your clit again.

“John! Captain!” Were the only words that left your mouth from then on. As Simon licked, sucked and even softly bit your pussy, barely stopping for breath as he did. Going and going until you’d cum twice all over his face, until he was so drenched in your wetness that it would be all he smelled for the rest of the day. Until your taste had engrained itself on his tongue. He had done everything just the way you liked, exactly as John would have done right down to the nibbles on your clit as you came. It was like he’d been given a manual and had driven you perfectly and then gone again just to make sure.

Simon even took care of you after in the same manner as John would. Cleaned you up with gentle wipes, and made sure you recovered by drinking water and even fed you a brownie. Mumbling in your ear the whole time,

“Good Doll, such a pretty Doll, did so well for me Doll. Your Captains proud.”

He helped you sort yourself out and gave you a small kiss, chaste in comparison to what had just happened. He walked you back to your car, John not saying another word while you were in the office but Simon, Simon talked the whole walk. About the baked goods, about the options for dinner that night, upcoming events you and John were invited too, he was all clued up on your life.

~~~~~

The journey home left no time to contemplate what had happened. The demanding country roads needing all your attention no matter how many times you had driven them and by the time you were home John had text you,

Your lasagne for dinner sounds good Love. Be home by 6 xx

Simon had obviously told him what the two of you talked about. But with dinner to cook it left you very little time to think about the afternoon you’d had. By the time the door was opening you had just plated dinner and were in the middle of pulling the garlic bread out the oven. John made his way to you and without saying anything finished the kiss you had started that afternoon that now felt like a lifetime ago. 

“That was a wonderful visit this afternoon Love and I fully plan to indulge in your cunt again after dinner,” He interrupts his sentence to kiss you again, giving you a preview of what he plans to do to your other set of lips, “So you go freshen up and I’ll get the rest of dinner out. And don’t bother with panties, I’ll just steal them again.” He moves and holds up his hand, dangling from his fingers is your underwear from this afternoon. You can feel the heat in your cheeks as you scurry upstairs to the bathroom to splash water on your face.

Dinner continues as usual, conversation about your lives and gossip about friends and co-workers. The only sign of what happened being when John says something about a topic you know you’ve only mention to Simon. Yet John talks about it as if you’d directly said it to him. But John never brings it up so you forget about it, write it off as a one-time fantasy or a reward for Simon and a way to take care of you in a time where John just couldn’t. Life goes on.

~~~~~

Well life did go on. And John was away for a month on a mission. Making your usual preparations such as making sure all his uniforms and gear were washed, double checking he’d packed everything and the little things you did to make him comfortable while away, you’d gotten to the last item on your list; cancel your date night reservations. You always made them in advance at John’s request so he could treat them like meetings for work and make sure he was available for as many as possible. Of course last minute changes happened but when it came to long call outs for missions you always cancelled your plans. Usually.

“Don’t cancel that one Love, or that one.” He mumbled into your shoulder where he’d plastered himself for the last hour or so against your back, leaving marks deep and dark enough that hopefully they’d last the month.

“John, you won’t be here and I’m not going out to dinner by myself.” You roll your eyes, thinking he was trying to get you to treat yourself while he was gone,

“I’m telling you not to cancel them. And you won’t be going by yourself, I’ll work it out.” He told you, moving so that he was in front of you and waiting for your reaction. Except you couldn’t react, not when he covered your mouth with his, the second you opened it to reply.

~~~~~

Thoroughly distracted by John and his talents in the bedroom you never did get to ask him about the date night plans before he had to leave and all too soon date night arrived. It was the first one since he’d been gone and one of the ones he’d said not to cancel. The original plans were dinner and mini golf but you had fully expected to be watching romcoms on the couch with a takeaway John had ordered in advance for you. Something he had surprised you with in the past. So when your door opened and a voice called out to you, you jumped.

“Doll, you ready? I know you don’t want to be late to dinner.” Grabbing the hockey stick John leaves by the stairs for you when you’re home alone, you carefully make your way towards the door, “Doll? You here? Did you forget we had date night? Cause that’s not like you.” You could see the man now, it was Nikolai. 

“There you are, you ready?” he holds his hand out towards you and reaches for yours. He takes hold of your hand and pulls you towards the door, you’re halfway there before you react,

“Nikolai? What the fuck?” pulling against him you try to stop his advances towards the door.

“Now, you know that’s not what you call me Doll,” He levels you with a look that’s straight from John, the one he uses when you’ve disobeyed an order, “Come on, we’re going to be late.” He manages to pull you out the door and push you into his car. Opening the door and buckling your seat belt, exactly like John does, with a quick kiss to your lips.

He takes you to your dinner reservations, you have the conversations you would have with John but every time you call him Nikolai he stops and gives you that look again. After dinner was mini golf. John’s choice for date night this time because you suck at mini golf and it means he would have gotten to hold you. Hold you just the way Nikolai does every time you get frustrated during the game, his arms caging you in while he murmurs instructions and praise in your ear as his hands guide yours into making shots. And then you’re home. You’re home and all the tension that had been built was gone. The car ride quiet with just the radio on, conversation exhausted over dinner. You’d expected to be dropped off at the door, like Simon had done all that time ago.

Nikolai walked you to the door which is when you realised you didn’t have your keys. He’d pulled you out the door before you could grab your things but the door was open. Nikolai had a key. Nikolai was picking you up over his shoulder and carrying you in. Nikolai was saying something?

“You really pushed it Doll. Eight times during dinner you called me the wrong name and then another five while we were at golf. Thirteen rule breaks, I think that means thirteen spanks. But seeing as this isn’t your first offense I think we’ll round up. Twenty should do, make sure it sinks in.” His voice was light but there was a sense of finality to it, no room for negotiating, as he makes his way up the stairs to you and Johns bedroom.

“You know the procedure. Strip, over my knee.” He says setting you down on your feet in front of the mirror, like John does because he says he wants you to see how beautiful you look while following his orders.

Nikolai settles on the chair, John’s chair, that’s always used when John wants to spank you with his hand. And that’s when it all clicks in your head. John. John’s people. John’s orders. John’s hands. John. John. John wasn’t here. But Nikolai was. But it was John’s orders. It’s John’s instructions. It’s exactly how John would do it.

“Lost Doll?” Nikolai’s voice jolts you back to current events, no. John’s voice. This was John.

“No Captain. Just realising.” You smile, brightly, softly, lovingly. Your husband was here. John was here.

~~~~~

Ask box and requests open <3

[jymwahuwu]

The yan Jing Yuan stuff made me honrt grip so hard but then the menace part of me was like who what if reader was also a menace aka the moment Jing Yuan's acting down horrendous they match his energy dbxbbf

Like sends a fluffy text to reader? Boom! Reader sends a lil voice clip of them cooing out his name and calls him a sap and this man folds like laundry.

He sends pics, bro they're gonna make him miserable and hard at work (he can't leave it's a mandatory daylong meeting, he's suffering when reader sends more pics) because he wants to blow up their phone??? Fine! Then he better be ready for the clap back

Call me 🐇 anon if it's not taken

TW: yandere, (implied) dub-con

Thank you 🐇 anon, this idea is really cute! teasing this old man (´,,•ω•,,)♡ Like the stars around the moon, everyone seeks the general's admiration and love, but he has no interest in it until-

Like, you intentionally record some short voice messages that are all muttering his name, some sexual innuendos, some teasing him about looking handsome on the space news channel. Occasionally, just a adorable kitty/bird meme with a "meow~" "tweet❤" and you even send him some pics of you wearing sheer clothes that don't cover your thighs and arms, enough to show your skin but not enough to reveal your private parts. "Guess what I'm not wearing right now?" Then you don't reply to whatever he texts you for a whole day.

You know that Jing Yuan needs to attend a mandatory daylong meeting, which is a routine meeting of Xianzhou Alliance to discuss how to deal with other space civilizations and other plans. He sent you messages before and on the way, took a photo, and claimed that "seeing this milky way reminds me of your bright smile", and even improvised a classical poetry. Jing Yuan is hundreds of years old and sending you these messages like a teenager is a bit embarrassing. Still, you have a smile on your face.

After Jing Yuan arrives at the meeting place, you want to be naughty, so you send a voice message, cooing out his name and calling him a sap. He immediately replies "?????!!!!!!" and asks you to send more.

After 2 seconds, he said you shouldn't send these because he's about to start a meeting now.

After 5 seconds, he said you should send more, he will listen after the meeting.

He tried hard to resist the urge to miss the meeting and arrive on your planet when the phone kept showing up some [photo], [voice message] reminders. Unfortunately, the rotation rate of the planet chosen for the meeting is a bit slow.

After finishing, Jing Yuan will immediately set off to your planet. You don't have any chance to defend yourself, the general won't listen. No doubt you'll have a long day on his cock.

[abbyshands]

please note: i love getting asks & fulfilling any old request, but please keep in mind that i will not necessarily carry it out! see below for some of the yes/no’s of asking for fics, etc. if there's smt you want that isn't discussed below, just ask!

also, do not send the same request to me and a different writer on this app. your request will be deleted! it’s unkind to me and other writers when this happens and it isn’t appreciated. thank you!

— ♡ yes’s include afab!reader, gn!reader, fem!reader, masc!reader (not male), dom!abby, sub!abby, dom!ellie, sub!ellie, dom!tess & dom!maria, some aus (professor, boxer, ceo, & more), slapping, choking, high or tipsy sex, mommy kink, daddy kink, bondage, hand and arm kinks (duh), cunnilingus, fingering, praise, degrading, pregnancy, perversion (moderate), breeding kink, manhandling, sensory overloads, period sex, blowjobs, pain (moderate), dacryphilia, cockwarming, nipple play, face sitting or riding, innocence (not too much now!), jealousy, possessiveness, dub con (moderate), blah, blah, blah

— X no’s include large age gaps, incest, underage reader or char, agere and baby talk, childish reader, piss or scat kink (fuck no), cnc, tw: rape or sa, overly possessive, jealous, or degrading ideas, pedophilia, zoophilia (fucking ew???) etc

® ABBYSHANDS, 2024

you do not have my permission to post my work anywhere. reblogs are always welcomed, but copying my work and claiming it as your own is not allowed.

[webanglikethat]

ABOUT PUNZ

TW // RACISM, DUB CON, ED, INVALIDATION OF MENTAL ILLNESSES

! Andi talks about her year-long relationship with Punz and she recounts enduring emotional neglect, gaslighting, verbal abuse, and a troubling instance of dubious consent. the relationship began with Andi facing harassment from Punz's fanbase, leading to the decision to keep their relationship private for Punz's benefit rather than genuine concern for Andi's well-being. 

! Punz's racist remarks, mockery of Andi's accent, and reluctance to visit Andi's family in Puerto Rico contributed to feelings of inferiority and insecurity. He called a slur and said “oh you’re my little b3an3r”. He also said - while watching Bridgerton - that the sharma sisters weren’t attractive because of their dark skins. 

! Punz made Andi feel embarrassed and insignificant, refusing to associate with her publicly and belittling her in private CONSTANTLY. He knew she had BPD and he even promise her MOM he would take care of her but he constantly dismissed her depressive episodes and made her feel like she was the problem. He said she did it so she would get his attention. 

! His berating behavior and insults exacerbated her feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness obviously and additionally, he exhibited a very very controlling behavior, dictating changes to Andi's personality and content to appease his own freaking audience. “There were also some smaller things like the fact that he made me feel really guilty whenever he would spend money on me.”

! Andi also describes instances of body shaming regarding her eating habits, and criticism of her interests and appearance.  “For context, i used to suffer from an eating disorder. I was anorexic and had a really unhealthy relationship with food during high school and my first year of uni. […] So i had certain comfort foods that, while sometimes unhealthy, at least it was something to eat when i didn’t feel like eating anything. He knew this. Yet, whenever i would crave some of these foods he would call me fat” 

! he also had a consistent lack of effort and empathy towards Andi. he never took the initiative to plan dates, leaving Andi feeling unappreciated and longing for romantic gestures like receiving flowers, which he only did once, despite her PLEAS. he also exhibited disrespectful behavior towards Andi in front of his friends, using her as a source of amusement to elevate his own image “For example, once when i was showering, i overheard him on a discord call with George and Sapnap and i heard George say “if you don’t go in the shower and have sex with Andi, i will”. Once, when i was really struggling with my legs” 

! when Andi was experiencing severe physical pain due to undiagnosed arthritis, didnt care and he initially refused to take her to the emergency room, prioritizing his own comfort and streaming schedule over her health. he said he wanted to stream while his gf was in pain. insane. and even after relenting and accompanying her to the ER, Punz complained about the inconvenience she was. 

! the relationship ended on one-year anniversary, where Andi blacked out after consuming alcohol provided by Punz, leading to an encounter that she can’t fully recall. she gets drunk very easily and when she woke up, she was naked and he was joking about it. “Then he mentioned that i fell off the bed at some point in the night and that it was funny how drunk I was. I then questioned him. Because if he thought that me tripping and falling off the bed because i was so drunk was funny, how did he not know that i was too drunk? “ to this day she doesn’t know what happened that night

! after the breakup, Andi confided in Punz's friend about the incident on their anniversary. however, instead of offering support, the friend warned her to like be cautious about discussing it, suggesting that speaking out could have consequences. he basically said she shouldn’t imply she didn’t remember the sexual encounter because it would mean its rape. and when Andi sought validation from other friends, they downplayed the seriousness of the situation, suggesting that Punz couldn't be blamed for not realizing how drunk Andi was.

IN THE OLD POST SHE TWEETED:

she described her relationship with Punz as complicated and tumultuous from the start. they initially became friends due to shared social circles, and their friendship gradually developed into romantic feelings, although Andi suspected that Punz might not have reciprocated her emotions fully. despite this, they began dating, but Andi felt like she was constantly begging for Punz's attention and affection. she noticed that Punz seemed disinterested and distracted when they were together, which led her to feel neglected and invisible in the relationship.

! One very significant source of tension was Andi's friendship with another guy, whom she considered one of her closest friends. She had a lot of guy friends btw and Punz was jealous and disapproval of this friendship, which lead Andi to eventually cut off contact with her friend in an attempt to salvage her relationship with Punz. “i basically felt invisible to him. that is, when i wasn’t hanging out with my guy friends.”

! Punz abruptly broke up with Andi via text. Despite the breakup, they continued to engage in behaviors typical of a relationship, although without the commitment. So basically they were friends but doing couple stuff.  when one of Punz's friends showed interest in Andi, Punz reacted with jealousy and ended their "friendship" over it. “his friend and i talked about it and poked fun at the fact that he broke up with me but got mad at someone else paying attention to me. when 1 saw this (he ended up forcing me to show him the screenshots of the conversation) he was even more pissed and even more done with me. the next day he called me and we were basically back together again.” 

! during their “reconciliation”, Punz made Andi feel like she had to EARN his affection because of something he deemed unforgivable that /she/ had done. as a result, Punz treated her poorly, often canceling plans to hang out with friends and only seeing her late at nigh and Andi basically felt at Punz's mercy, with their interactions and plans dictated solely by his whims.

! this treatment took a severe toll on Andi's mental health, leading her into a deep depression and causing her to relapse into SH after three years of being clean. despite seeking therapy and making efforts to address her mental health, Punz dismissed her struggles and saw them as just another problem in their relationship. when they argued, which was frequent, Punz would use Andi's mental health against her, belittling her and making her feel guilty for her emotions.

! Punz would also dismiss Andi's emotional needs, labeling her as needy and clingy whenever she sought reassurance or expressed her desires. instead of providing comfort, Punz would respond with indifference or hostility. 

! He broke promises, he would go against his commitments, such as going to Las Vegas with friends on her birthday after promising not to. Andi also noticed Punz looking at “provocative” pictures of other girls on social media.

! “but there was a long period of time in our relationship where we had zero intimacy, and it wasn’t because of me. this fucked with my head a lot because i had this idea that because i was so emotional and needy that i could compensate physically. but when that stopped, my thoughts looked something like “the only thing i was useful for was sex and now he doesn’t even want that from me”

! She also thinks he was cheating on her during that time.

! after their breakup, Punz said he wanted to improve himself and the relationship, promising to go to the gym, consider therapy, adopt a healthier lifestyle, and plan dates to treat Andi better. However, Andi had reached her limit and no longer believed in Punz's ability to change.

! Punz shifted blame onto Andi, making her feel responsible for his lack of effort and dissatisfaction in the relationship. He would victimize himself and bring up past mistakes, such as Andi flirting with one of his friends, to deflect from his own shortcomings. 

! It took therapy for her to realize that Punz was not genuinely interested in her and only valued her attention when it suited him. And despite claiming not to want her, Punz would become possessive when others showed interest in Andi “he didn’t want me but he didn’t want anyone else to have me and that was the bottom line. that was the base off all the problems and toxicity that happened while we were together. “

[duchessdepolignaca03]

Thank you for the tag @firenati0n and @piratefalls and everyone who has tagged me on this in the last couple of weeks! I’ve not been in the best space to participate in these things (and tbh still not), but I so appreciate it 🥰

Just sharing a snippet of the latest chapter of Rule Britannia, my long fic and labour of love. Chapter 18 comes with the long-awaited introduction of Percy Okonjo!

As always, if reading RB for the first time (or repeat time?), mind the tags (which include tw: dub-con and implied/discussions assault). There are specifics

“Well, Henry said I should trust you,” Alex offered.

“You shouldn’t trust anyone in Henry’s orbit,” Percy warned, his bright smile suddenly turning a little shark-like, though his eyes glimmered with amusement. “He makes bad men of us all.”

Alex’s brows shot up. “What did he make you do?”

“Oh nothing. At least nothing he asked for directly,” Percy said, once again shrugging, as he set his tea down. “The question is, darling, what wouldn’t I do for our darling Henry?”

No pressure tags for @priincebutt @onthewaytosomewhere @tailsbeth-writes @mudbloodpotter05 @taste-thewaste @bigassbowlingballhead @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @thesleepyskipper @sparklepocalypse

[missmaywemeetagain]

Gold Scarf ✨🧣✨

Well, my sweeties, by vote, Gold Scarf is the second Scarf Universe exclusive for the month, a special benefit for my Sweetheart and above tiers! It is part of the Pink Scarf Universe and takes place in June 1972, right before his monumental performance at Madison Square Garden. TEASER BELOW ✨🧣✨

There's more angst in this one (in addition to the toe curling smut lol), which maybe foreshadows some things to come...👀 (I've done so much fluff recently, I just couldn't help it!) Mind the warnings below the pic.

Don't miss out--Join HERE for exclusive access!! 🎉

My Lil’ Darlin’s get an exclusive Scarf Universe fic like this every month! 💗

My Sweethearts 💕 and above will get multiple exclusive Scarf Universe stories!

Plus early access to all other fics for all levels! 🎉

Join my community and you’ll never miss out (especially since tumblr keeps suppressing my tags!!) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

💛 Madi

TW: rough SEXXX, allusions to prescription drug use, a little dub con (at first), voyeurism/exhibitionism, lots of dirty talk, dom!E, angst, filth, cussing, you know the drill...

TEASER:

...

His large hand is now squishing yours, numbing your fingers, and you can feel the nervousness pulsate through him as you try to keep up with his fast-moving long legs hustling down the dim corridor. Now that you’re here, you know his buzzing is also excitement, as if the electricity from the crowd is shooting through the building and straight into his veins. He’s a bundle of nerves, tension, and anticipation, magnified by whatever he may or may not have taken to get him here.

The security guards stop the entourage for a moment, and you see Joe up ahead discussing something heatedly with one of them. Looking over at Elvis, you take in all his glory in profile. He looks incredible—the white jumpsuit cut perfectly to flatter every inch of him. A golden scarf lies around his neck, matching the gold belt that accentuates his waistline and the gold gems sewn in swirling pattens all over. The scarf is tucked into the suit, which is zipped down low, exposing his chest. Your mouth waters at the little bush of chest hair you are able see and you cannot stop yourself from staring openly at your husband from head to toe.

He must feel your eyes on him because his head swivels in your direction, your gaping distracting him for a second. Caught, you straighten up, look away coyly, and bite your lips in a smile.

“And jus’ what do you think you’re doin’, lookin’ at me like that, darlin’? This is not the time,” he scolds, but his smirk belies it and you can tell he is enjoying your gaze.

“A woman can’t admire her husband when he looks so sexy?” you whisper into his ear. You pull back and give him another once over.

The charged air is now filling with more than just the electricity of the crowd. Elvis gives you a heated, cautionary look that tells you that you are playing with fire, but you know it is also keeping him from escalating too far into his stage fright and doubt. You smile coquettishly back at him.

He grunts and huffs at you. Surrounded by the Mafia and security, Elvis whispers something to one of the guys near him, who in turn whispers whatever was said on to the others. In a flash, Elvis is yanking you into a dark little alcove in the tunnel, all the men suddenly turning around and showing you their backs. Yelping and trying not to break your ankle in your tall heels, you have no choice but to follow.

“You are a naughty lil’ vixen. I should tan your hide for gettin’ me all riled up right before I gotta go on,” he growls, wagging his finger at you while walking you back against the cold concrete wall. Heat radiates off him in sharp contrast as he moves towards you.

You look down, and two things become evident: One, for whatever reason, he has chosen not to wear his dance briefs tonight, and two, Little Elvis is rapidly standing to attention beneath his white suit.

Oh shit. You hadn’t considered he might get this excited, and your miscalculation is quickly becoming an issue as the seconds tick on.

Your heart starts racing as he presses close into you. His cock pokes into your lower belly, and he puts his hand only somewhat gently around the side of your throat. He leans in close, his warm lips brushing your ear.

“Go on. Ya made him all needy—ya best take care of it,” he says matter-of-factly. His thumb brushes your throat. “Now.”

...

Want to read the rest? Click HERE to join now!✨🧣✨

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[pervysenpaix]

Journalist!y/n has standards. MIDoriya doesn’t meet those standards. Though I kinda want to read her finding out Dynamight started dating Red Riot and she starts simping both of them and ends up getting both

I like the way you think nonnie. You deserve an emoji [🧨] you're my first btw 🤞🏾. let's discuss some real men shall we ?

pairing; k. bakugo + e. kirishima + you

Part 1

PS: this is super inconsistent because i got carried away with the plot in the beginning but then I remembered that this is supposed to be a quick thirst response so 🤡

TW! Prohero AU, non con/ dub con ( reader is intoxicated), semi-sleazy KRBK, obsessed reader, stalker KRBK but Y/N started it!, reader is recorded without consent, reader is drugged, anal fingering, anal seggs, double pen, borderline mysogynistic <- sounds worse than it actually is in my opinion but I'm FUCKING SICK.

After your initial encounter with Dynamight was rudely interrupted by MIDoriya, you scurried from the office with your remaining shreds of dignity. Did you regret it? Hell, no. Your wildest fantasies couldn't have prepared you for what it would actually feel like to be fucked by the explosion hero. But, you couldn't help the anxiety that settled in the pit of your stomach once the implications of your actions started crowd your mind.

This man caught you masturbating in his office, then fucked you after acknowledging that you'd been stalking him for the past few months. It was horrifying to say the least. Yes, you were still obsessed but you were also extremely embarrassed and could not shake the ever present feeling of awkwardness that came whenever you imagined the way his scarlet visionaries burned your skin.

So you figured that it'd probably be best to lay off the extracurriculars for a while.

The article was great and earned you tons of notoriety. People were surprised with how candid the hero was with you especially since he usually turned down interviews. The public assumed that you were some investigative genius when in reality you were some crazy stalker that he wanted to make an example of.

Alls fair in love and journalism, you suppose; but, it kind of sucked to get used and discarded like that. From your favorite hero no less !

Anywho!

A few months past and you'd done several high profile interviews since the incident. You tried to keep yourself occupied with work to avoid thinking of your muse but that proved difficult when he had been plastered across various media platforms due to an apparent change in his relationship status.

Have Red Riot and Dynamight finally made it official?

The alleged couple had been spotted out on several “romantic outings” but nothing had been confirmed by either parties PR teams. Various publications turned to you as if you’d have some insider info but alas you were just as in the dark as everyone else.

You’d sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t go back to your old antics but god did they make it tempting. Dynamight alone was always amazing but paired with Red Riot ? The thought of it had you foaming at the mouth. Eijiro Kirishima, the Sturdy Hero, who was named Japan’s most eligible bachelor three years in a row was now romantically attached to the object of your desires. What more could a girl ask for ?

Dignity, but I digress.

Everyone wanted the scoop on the couple and your publisher decided that you were the girl for the job. You tried to weasel your way out of it to no avail. Taking a shot in the dark you called over to Dynamight's agency with every intention of being rejected but to your surprise you were patched through and met with a particularly gruff voice.

The hero had agreed to do the interview on the condition that it be done in his own home over dinner. Stating that he wasn't up to having "the talk" with "that damn Deku" again then asking if you still remembered how to get there. Your cheeks burned at the insinuation, so you nodded dumbly while blurting an overly cheerful, "Yeah! See you soon!" before assaulting the "end call" button.

So now you stood on the familiar yet foreign front porch of the Bakugo estate ringing the doorbell. The door swung open revealing Dynamight in all his scowling glory wearing his signature black tank and cargo pants with a Alien Queen Pinky! ™️ apron wrapped around his slim waist.

"I know you like goin' through the backdoor but this seems more appropriate." He smirks, canines flashing and silver chain swaying as he leans down to guide you inside with a heavy hand splayed on your lower back. “You look good, it’s been a while”.

"Y-yeah, like a couple months if I'm not mistaken. It's good to see you as well". He huffs in response, handing you a pair of fluffy slippers before leading you further into the home. He brings you to a sleek industrialized kitchen and pulls out a barstool to which you offer a polite thanks, making him scoff. Katsuki turns towards the stove and begins interacting with the various pots in pans. It smells divine. You watch curiously from your place at the island. Wanting to cut through the smothering silence but not sure what to say.

"No point in actin' all meek, Princess. We're not exactly strangers". His back is to you, but you can imagine the scowl on his face.

He had a point. A few months ago he had your fluffy bits on display and now you could barely muster a sideways glance.

"Sorry" you breathe, "I guess I'm a bit nervous".

"Because of the stalking or the sex ?" He asks bluntly, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the counter. "Cause m'pretty used to both when it comes to fans. Just not in that order, I guess".

If you could sink into the floor you would but Dynamight's harsh stare told you that you wouldn't be let off the hook that easily. Luckily for you a door slammed followed by the soft padding of feet revealing a very handsome and very shirtless, red-haired hero.

"Oh, hey there! You must be , Y/N. Wow, you're even prettier in person!" You stare dumbly at the tall man. His long hair is damp and light sheen covers his tattooed skin. He wears red sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his waist and a slender gold chain similar to the one worn by the blonde hero.

"Oh! T-thanks, Red Riot. You're pretty too". As soon as the words leave your mouth you cringe but taller man laughs boisterously while casting a knowing grin. “Yeah yeah—you’re both gorgeous, now can we eat?”

Dinner was delicious—as expected. Katsuki (which he insisted you call him) mentioned that cooking was one of his hobbies with Eijiro adding that Katsuki’s cooking was one of his hobbies as well. The two played off each other well, effortlessly switching between best bros and star crossed lovers in an instant. It was enough to make you swoon.

They’d all but explicitly stated the nature of their relationship and when you asked them if the rumors where true Katsuki gripped the back of Eijiro’s neck and pulled him into a steamy kiss that left a string of saliva connecting them. He then looked directly at your camera and said “you tell me” with a shit eating grin.

Dinner was over and you felt yourself growing restless from the casual PDA being displayed between the two heroes. You had more than enough footage for your interview so you decided to call it a night. However, the two men had other plans.

Eiji insisted that you stay for a glass of wine. Then two. Then three. And before you knew it you were a giggly mess sandwiched between the contrastly sober heroes on their huge Cal king bed. Katsuki had convinced you to spend the night because it’d be irresponsible to let toy drive and Eijiro offered one of his large shirts so that you’d be comfy. And he was such a gentle that he didn’t let you lift a finger. Using his quirk, he slice down your clothing until you were bare trembling. He then slipped the shirt over your head, not bothering with underwear and slotted you against his chest with Katsuki sliding in behind.

"God, you're soft." Eijiro sighed, palming and spreading your ass cheeks with his huge hands. " You didn't tell me she was this soft, bro" he whined, pouting his lips at the blonde who was groping your breasts in a similar fashion.

"Tch, and risk you blowing the plan to shit ? it was hard enough to stop you from breaking in her house after I showed you the video" Katsuki scoffed, still focused on tweaking your puffy nipples.

Eijiro groaned at the memory. Katsuki had already planned on fucking you that day in his office, so he installed cameras to capture the moment. They never expected you to be so slutty and willing and right before he could fully exploit you that damned Deku barged in. The redhead remembers how quickly his cock went flaccid when he saw the frantic greenette mumbling apologies. If that was HIM that walked in on a scene like that he would've fucked you both two ways to Sunday.

After watching the video he just had to see more of you. So the two of them spent days strolling through your social media profiles and jacking off to your pictures. Eijiro couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if you were smiling directly at him instead of the camera. He couldn't help it, he just had to see you in person. Luckily for him, Bakugo knew where you lived. You see, the blonde watched you just as much as you watched him prior to your encounter--he was just better at it. He knew your daily route and all of your favorite spots. The two heroes would go out in hopes of "bumping into you" but it never happened organically. They then settled on stalking your residence and peering at you through the windows. On one particular you were bouncing on a red riot themed dildo while deepthroating a dynamight one and Katsuki had to literally blast his ass out of there so that he wouldn't break the window.

"Please", he rolled his eyes, "a slutty bitch like her would probably get off on it. Wouldn't you, babe?" For the first time in what felt like forever they were actually talking to you instead of over you, but as luck would have it you were too out of it to respond.

Your skin burned and a hazy cloud settled on your mind. It felt like you were drowning but not necessarily in the bad way. Your body was submerged in an ocean of pleasure and every time you thought that you may break the surface, the men changed course making you spin endlessly. Eiji's thick digits speared and spread your asshole while the heated pads of Katsu's fingers ran over your nipples. It felt like you were on fire and the only thing that could douse you was the two men staring down at you. Their voices were distorted but you could just make out Eiji's voice saying, "did we give her too much, seems pretty out of it ?" at least that's what it sounded like but its hard to be sure with the way his fingers were rubbing against your walls. "nah, kinky bitch is probably floatin' in subspace or some shit. she wants this, look at the mess her pussy's makin' on the sheets".

Did you want this ? No doubt about it and the way they just manhandled your body between them had you gushing an obscene amount of slick down your thighs.

"not a thought in that pretty little head. god- you're fuckin' perfect for us" Katsuki groaned, pulling your head back by your hair to spit in your mouth then turning you back to Eijiro who followed suit. Even under the influence, you swallowed immediately earning raspy praise from the men.

"fuck baby I wish you could see yourself " Kirishima whined, slotting your lips together and bullying his tongue in your mouth. Bakugo kissed up your neck and chuckled.

"That can be arranged".

You woke up bundled in unfamiliar satin sheets that smelled cinnamon and caramel. The room was dark save for the sliver of light pouring the floor to ceiling bedroom window. A glass of juice sat next to a bottle of painkillers on the bedside table with a note that read “drink me”. Now that you thought about it you did feel pretty sore. Being the good girl that you are— you take the pills and head out to find your hosts.

Bakugo and Kirishima were no where to be found but you did a beautifully plated breakfast with a note that read : Goodmorning, gorgeous! We went to run a few errands but we should be back soon. You should go hang in the den until we return.

The friendly tone of the note led you to believe that Kirishima wrote it but it was very friendly considering the two of you just met last night. Speaking of which , you couldn’t remember anything from the night prior.

You settled on the couch trying to rack but it was pointless. You shrugged it off, deciding to dig in and watch tv as the note suggested, but much to your surprise a video was already queued.

The video started with a close up of Bakugo running his tongue across his teeth. He set the camera down and you and kirishima came into view. You were bare—laying across the bed with your head hanging off the edge and your legs spread wide to accommodate the large man between them. Kirishima was nude as well , signature smile adorning his face as he bottomed out in your asshole. Katsuki joined the two of you, lightly tapping your jaw with his cock and pressing it against your tongue. You swallowed around him and clenched down on Eijiro making the men groan in unison. There was no sounds except wet squelching and moans.

You didn’t even realize that you’d started touching yourself until your eyes rolled back in ecstasy and you came with a shout.

A sudden this brought you out of your post orgasmic haze; you whipped your head around seeing the two males surrounded by what seems to be your luggage from home.

“Mind if we cut in ?”

[yandere-daydreams]

what about a yandere that has enough power in the world, that to keep there darling trapped they dont need a basement. no matter what the darling does like flee the country or change identity the yandere will just decide they want to spend time with them and less than a hour later there there to have a "date"

tw - unhealthy relationships, financial abuse, implied dub/non-con.

it's really not that bad, once you get past the '24/7 surveillance, total lack of bodily autonomy, forced to depend on a rich stalker who's obsessed with you' part. they make sure you have everything you could ever want - a walk-in closet full of brand-name clothes, a small legion of personal chefs and attendants, a two-story penthouse with more than enough amenities to keep you busy while they're away - and they're not afraid to let you roam (even if they would rather keep you inside), always taking you out to five-star restaurants, always insisting that you sit on their lap while they discuss 'local politics' with their 'business partners' in the V.I.P. of some shady, smoke-filled club. they even let you get away, sometimes, forget to lock a door or overlook the key-card you stole out of their jacket pocket, pretend they haven't found the little pile of cash you've been keeping in the very back of your closet and let you stay out for two, maybe three days before they pick you up at whatever shitty motel you've been staying at and take you on the date they've been planning for months, now.

it's one of the advantages of operating the way they do - brutally, bloodily, with a reputation as widespread as their investments. there's nothing you could possibly do to get away from them, but they're fair with you, all-in-all, even if they do demand a little love from their precious darling, every once in a while.

it's not like you have another choice, not when your doting partner is so resourceful.

[andydrysdalerogers]

The Type You Save ~ E L E V E N

James "Bucky" Barnes and OFC Alexandra "Alex" Richards

Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.

Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?

They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.

TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation

A/N: The Tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Previous: T E N

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

One year later 

Alex was scrambling around, getting ready to meet with a new client for her firm.  Her firm.  The thought of all she was able to accomplish in the last year brought a huge smile to her face.  

After getting her life back, Alex decided to put her skills for the greater good.  After a long discussion with James and Steve, she found an investor in the guys’ Captain and Steve and started “Cat Burglar Securities.” The irony of the name was not lost on her especially the tag line. “Security hidden in plain sight.” She found a couple of steady clients at first, but the company exploded when actress Yelena Belova hired her to set the security in her home and then would tell anyone about how well an incident was handled.  

Alex was busy but grateful for James. She almost lost him and Steve when they jumped in to save a young mother and her baby from a crazed shooter.  James was lucky that the shot taken was in the vest and he walked away with bruised ribs.  Steve, in the same incident, took a shot in the leg.  The incident garnered the guys a commendation from the mayor and promotions.  James was promoted to Sargent and Steve to Captain. Steve’s injury had put him behind a desk for at least a year, so James was partnered with the new kid, Pietro  

With the time off they had for recovery, James, Steve and Drew were able to bond more.  Drew grew more confident with his father and uncle, getting to go to the station and meeting all of the guys’ co-workers.  They all took a shine to little Drew, especially the commanding officer Tony Stark.  

“Barnes, how is it you created such a smart and cute kid?” 

“That’s all Alexandra, sir.” 

“Obviously. You must have done something in another life to earn love from that woman.”  

“Don’t I know it.”  

With Alex starting her business, James took over taking Drew to school and working on his development. James always noticed that Dew spoke with more clarity than a normal toddler. “Hey Allie?” 

“Yea Jamie.”  

“Ever notice that Drew talks a little… umm… mature?” 

“Mature?  Is he saying bad words?” 

“Doll, you’re cute when you are distracted.”  He kissed her temple.  “He’s talking like a third grader not a preschooler.” 

Alex looks at James and thinks back. “Well Drew as always done things earlier than normal.”  

“Doll, he can read.  He’s four.”  

James and Alex took him to be tested.  He showed signs of a genius level IQ.  The doctors recommended to start him in the first grade and continue to evaluate.  

“Didn’t know my little Drew is a genius,” Steve said as he toss Drew up in the air.  “He must get it from his Uncle Stevie.”  

“Yeah right punk.” James rolled his eyes. 

The Barnes family kept moving forward.  The plans to upgrade to a house (with Steve, of course) were starting to become serious. Alex decided she wanted more with James.  “Baby, have you though more on our future?” 

“Personal or Professional?” 

“Jamie,” she whined.  

James laughed. “A little doll.  I mean we always talked abut a big family.”  

Alex chewed her lip. “Does that mean you would want to have another baby with me?” 

James studied his wife. “Why would you question that, Allie?”  He pushed a stand of hair from her face. “Of course, I would love to have another baby with you.  I want to have a mini you this time, love.”  

“You promise?” 

“I do my love.”  He kissed her gently, foreheads touching.  “Let’s go practice,” he whispered before picking her up bridal style and to their room. 

It seemed like all of the awful events of the last few years were wiped away.  But reality was ready to smack Alex and James in the face.  

It was a rare day that Alex could take Drew to the park like they used to.  “Mama where is Daddy?”  

“Daddy is working on a project with Uncle Stevie, Uncle Tony and Pietro.”   

“But we’ll have play time later?” 

“Daddy promised.”  

“Okies. I’m going to the slide.”  Drew runs off and Alex takes a sip of her coffee.  

“You are not an easy woman to find.”  

Alex closed her eyes and sets her coffee down. “I figured hiding in plain sight was the easiest solution.”  She looked at the seat next to her to see Nate staring at her.  

“You look good Alex.  Six Years has done you well.”  

“You look tired Nate.  Still with Grey?” 

“Let’s not talk about that right now.  Tell me how you’ve been.”  He smiles at her.  

“I met someone six months after I left.  James.”  She smiled.  “He the love of my life.  We have a son, Andrew.”  She nodded her head towards the playground.  

“Why didn’t you keep running? You had to know the boss was going to look for you.”  

“Because my life was with James. I was happy.  We are happy.  If I kept running, I would always be running.  Steve taught me that.”  

“Steve?” 

“My best friend.  He’s like you.”  She nudges him with a smile.  “Always having my back.” A single tear fell.  “Why are you here Nate?” 

Nate lowered his head into his hands.  He then ran them through his hair. “Walker found you.  About a year ago. The boss moved his operations to Seattle.  He’s been biding his time, planning.”  

“Planning what?” 

“How to get you back.”  Nate rubbed his face and then looked at her seriously.  “Run Alex.  Take your family and run. Don’t stay and listen to the offer I have from Grey. Just run.”  

Alex was scared.  She had never seen Nate so broken. “Nate I can’t. I have a family and friends that I need to protect.”  She looks at her son.  “What is the deal?” 

“Alex…” 

“WHAT is the deal?” 

Nate sighs.  “Grey is going to approach you with this in two weeks. Leave your husband and son and join the boss again.  Come be with him forever.  Otherwise, he will take your son as payment to complete the debt to him.  He’ll raise Andrew as one of us.”  

“No. No I can’t do that.  I won’t leave them. He can’t have him.”  

“Then run Alex.  Take them and run. Do whatever you have to.  Please.  You are still my best friend, even after all these years.”  He took her hands.  “I say all of this with love. You have two weeks to decided.”  He handed her a business card.  “Don’t be stupid.” He kissed her forehead and walked away.  

Alex sat on the bench for a few minutes, trying to stop from hyperventilating.  Grey had found her and wanted her back.  She watches her son as he played with new found friends.  Family over everything, she reminders herself.  She picks up her pone and calls, “Sam?” 

“Hey baby girl. How are you?” Alex couldn’t help the sob that escapes her mouth. “Alex, what’s wrong?” 

Alex takes a deep breath. “Grey. He found me,” she whispered. “I didn’t… I… haven’t told Jamie,” she sobbed.  

“Ok breathe Alex. Go home. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. What time does Bucky get home?” 

She looked at her watch. “Umm… four hours.”  

“Ok, we’ll think of something Alex.  I promise.  Its going to be ok.”  

“Will James thinks that?” 

“I don’t know but the law is on your side and I’ll help with Bucky.” 

A couple of hours and trip to the airport later found Sam sitting at the kitchen table taking notes, while Alex described what had happened. “And he made no indication that Grey is in the area?” 

“No, he just told me to go with Drew and James and run.”  Alex looked at her watch. “Sam, James will be here any minute.”  

“I know. I know. You just gotta stay calm, ok? Panicking will not help.”  Sam and Alex stop when they hear they keys hit the door lock.  

“Daddy!” Drew screams as he races for the door.  

“Hey Chief!” James catches his son.  “How was your day?” 

“Okies! Where’s Uncle Stevie?” 

“Right here pal,” as Steve walks in, “was just getting the mail.”  He looks in the kitchen. “Sam? What are you doing here?” 

“Hey man!” He shakes Steve and James’s hands. “Just consulting with a client.” He glances back at Alex.  

“Allie, what’s going on?” 

Alex moved to take Drew. “Baby can you go play in your room for right now please?” 

“Okies.”  Drew runs to his room.  Alex turns back to face James and Steve.  She can feel the tears building in her eyes.  

James can see it and pulls Alex to him. “Doll? Talk to me?” 

Alex stares into his eyes, the steel blue swirling with concern. “I had a visitor at the park,” Alex started. “Nate came and visited me.”  She felt a couple of tears fall. “He told me that Grey knows where I am and that in two weeks, he’s going to come and make me an offer.”  

“Offer? An offer for what?” Steve asks.  

“Leave with him or he’ll take Drew.”  Alex can’t hold it in anymore.  She begins to sob, holding onto James for dear life.  He’s in shock.  He holds onto her tighter.  

“Baby I won’t let him get to you or Drew.”  He kisses her head.  “Sam, what can we do?” 

“Legally, nothing yet.  He didn’t make the threat directly. But I think we should talk to your supervisor or someone about security.”  

Steve picked up his phone to call Tony while James continues to comfort Alex.  “Stark said he can be here in 20. Ale, did Nate say anything else?” 

“He told me to run. I told him I couldn’t. I have family here. You, Nat, Wanda. How could we abandon you guys?” 

“Nothing would happen to us Alex,” Steve replies.  “If you Bucky and Drew just disappeared, I would have understood.”  

“No!” Alex snaps. “I would never leave you behind you are my family, Stevie.”  

A knock at the door found a man in an impeccable suit with blue tinted glasses. “Somebody requested a commander?” 

NEXT

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