#yandere history

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Husband Henry VIII Headcanons (Romantic)

❝ 👑 — lady l: This has been in my draft for a while but I decided to finish it now lol. Hope you like it! Forgive me for any mistakes. ❤️🧡

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, toxic relationship, mention of death perhaps.

❝👑pairing: yandere!henry viii x female!reader.

You had already dreamed of marrying a King, of becoming his Queen and giving birth to his heirs, a romantic fantasy that you and many other young women have dreamed of. They were mere fantasies of romance that you made up, but never really thought it would happen or become the obsession of one of the most infamous Kings in the history of England.

Your dreams remained as they were, dreams of a young lady. The King of the country where you lived was already married, so there wasn't much chance of you marrying him. Your family was of noble enough origin and had considerable wealth, but nothing too extravagant.

Until your older sister's marriage to a powerful man, close to the King. With that, your family immediately moved to the English Court, excited about their new status. Your father was particularly eager to marry you off to a powerful man as well.

Henry was dissatisfied with his wife, Anne, she had failed to conceive the much-desired male heir he so desperately wanted. His wandering eyes began to wander to the young women of the Court and when he laid eyes on you, he knew you would be the one to give him what he wanted.

Henry's captivating gazes seemed to follow you wherever you went and it began to unnerve you. A hint of excitement perhaps, but you knew it was a dangerous game to get involved with the King, especially when he was married.

Your parents were immensely happy with the King's interest in you. If you became his mistress, it would bring benefits and riches to your family. And when Henry got tired of you, you could perhaps marry a man with a noble title. Maybe a Duke or a Marquis.

But you didn't want to be his mistress or anyone's mistress. You wanted a husband and not a mere toy that he could always discard later. Your resistance angered your parents but attracted Henry even more. Your rejecting him has stirred him up, and bewitched him even more. Whenever you were in a room, Henry's eyes would be on you.

All of Henry’s attention was on you and you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. He didn't even try to hide his affection for you, he sent you gifts and letters constantly. You reciprocated, sending him letters in return, but always remaining firm in your convictions.

Before long, Henry was deeply in love with you and quickly got rid off his current wife, Anne. When he asked you to marry him, shortly after his separation from Anne, you hesitated but accepted. You would finally become his and his alone.

Once you were married, Henry became more possessive than ever. He already didn't like the looks other gentlemen gave you, but now that you were officially his, it would be considered a crime of treason. And we know how he deals with betrayal.

You were his perfect Queen, so sweet and so, well, perfect. Henry makes a point of reminding you of that every day, about how perfect you were for him. He really was in love, so he kept on your side the whole time. His eyes remained only on you.

Henry truly values ​​you and your opinion. It is not a custom, but he would be willing to listen to your wishes and political opinions (if you have any) on matters of state. You are his Queen, after all. If it was your wish, if you were Catholic, Henry could even try to restore Catholicism in England.

He really loved you, maybe not in the conventional way, but he did. Henry would listen to your wishes, fulfill them and all he wants in return is his love. He will not tolerate people speaking ill of you and will condemn anyone who does so for treason.

Henry would be loyal to you, he would take care of you until your death. He wants to have children with you, a family, a male heir, but he also wants to be with you. He could be himself and not the King of England.

And when you finally gave him his long-awaited male heir, Henry knew he would never let you go or let anything happen to you. After all, you are his wife and his Queen. And Henry doesn't handle treason very well.

[floatyflowers]

Dark! Ancient Rulers (Ramesses II amd Alexander the Great) x Reader

Ramesses II

You are a daughter of one of the senior officials in Egypt, making you be considered one of the higher ups social class citizens.

But still, you didn't mind joking around about the Pharaoh and his family.

Yet, this is what led you to this fate in the first place of getting locked up.

You see, one day you were having fun around with your friend, and she made a joke about Ramesses and him already having too many children.

"I know right, I would rather drown in the nile river then be used as a broodmare or a pleasure sleeve by the pharaoh"

Let us just say that there were spies around you, and the moment the word reaches the ears of Ramesses, is the moment you condemned yourself and your friend.

The guards would arrest you in the middle of the night, and bring you to him tied up in ropes.

"It was only a joke, your highness, I did not mean to offend you nor did my friend" you exclaim in fear.

Ramesses looks down at you with a smirk, his back leaned against his throne.

"I go fight in brutal wars, while you sit at home and sleep peacefully at night, so I have the right to get offended"

The fact that the man hasn't shown any signs of anger or displeasure is what is making you feel worried.

However, Ramesses knew that he didn't need to overreact because he is one at advantage not you.

"Tell me now, why shouldn't I execute you and your family just like I did with your little friend"

Your eyes widened in fear at the news of your friend's death, but his threat to also kill your family was enough of a warning for you to plead.

"Please, I will do anything you want, don't kill my family"

Ramesses only narrows his eyes at you, his smirk only growing larger.

"You shall become my broodmare"

Alexander the Great

You have known him since you both were children, your father was a great general, a friend of Alexander's father, Philip II.

However, you and Alexander were not friends, you felt uneasy every time you were around him.

Anyone could see how infatuated Alexander was with you, yet you found comfort in avoiding him.

You are shy in personality and only found comfort in reading.

Knowing very well that your father and Philip planned to wed you to Alexander once you reached a proper age to marry, you decided to become a priestess.

However, that didn't prevent Alexander from kidnapping you and forcing you to marry him the moment his father dies and he becomes King.

You thought you would stay at home while Alexander goes on his journey to conquer the world.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

"Alexander, please, I'm pregnant, the traveling might harm the baby"

Your husband would only smile at you, assuring you.

"Do not worry about our baby, the physicians said it is safe for you to travel"

Of course, that is a lie, as the physicians warned him that it might cause you great stress.

But, Alexander would not leave you behind, he doesn't trust anyone to keep you safe, he fears that you might leave him for another.

You do have a safe birth, and things were going well at the conquests.

However, Alexander gets deadly ill.

And orders that you get poisoned.

After all, he won't leave you in this cruel world alone without him.

[funnyexel]

Pervy husband staring at his wife's big chest and her actually noticing his expression~

She got flustered and immediately covered her chest with her arms

a thrill ride of obsession

you felt it. the weird looks. the lingering glances. but you passed them off as prolonged glares. looks of disgust and of realization that he's going to be marrying you in a few short days.

but you read it wrong. so unbelievably wrong.

Secondborn!husband who's becoming sloppy, lazy in his sneaky ways of going through your drawers to steal your intimate clothing. Secondborn!husband that notices how lazy you are getting with covering up your chest, noticing the way you walk around the room with less and less fabric covering your body as time counts down to your wedding.

Secondborn!husband that openly stares at you when he purposely accidentally enters the fitting room, where you were trying on your wedding night attire. Secondborn!husband who is shoved out the female dominated room and mentally stunned by the outfit he got a glimpse of.

Pervert!husband that can’t ignore the way all his blood rushed from his head down to his dick. All his rational thinking getting lost on the journey to his bed chambers. Pervert!husband who whimpers and pleads for you when he rips off his pants and strokes himself to his vision of you. His vision of your curvy body and big tits squished into the bra of the tightly woven bralette.

Pervert!husband who’s knees buckle under him when the image of your faintly flushed cheeks cloud his mind, causing him to slide down the wall of his room, all the while not letting his cock breath from the tight fisting he’s doing. Pervert!husband who wants to cum at the thought of you squeezing your breasts closer together in your sorry attempt to shield yourself from him, your own husband.

Pervert!husband who could care less if someone could hear him on the other side of this door. Pervert!husband who’s mind just goes blank when he fantasizes about you on your knees in front of him, bouncing up and down on your heels as you push your tits against his straining cock. Strangling the muscle in his perverted version of quality time. Feeling the warmth of your tits around him and feeling the kitten licks you would leave on his tip. He can see it all unfold in his mind, the way you would breath so heavily from embarrassment and the excessive movement.

Secondborn!husband who acts like he didn’t have a manic episode of being so horny that he basically couldn’t breath or even think about anything but those gorgeous tits.

a/n: I didn't expect for this to take such a gross turn but hey, hope you like it. p.s. its black history month and time to spam my page as much as I possibly can.

more writing

[suiana]

✎ yandere! school headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― obsessiveness, stalking, possessiveness, mentions of murder, manipulation etc.

(gn! reader x yandere! ocs)

✎ yandere! school where everyone is obsessed and in love with their lovely little english teacher, you.

✎ yandere! students who listen attentively in your class. doing their homework, answering questions and just overall being good students! they'd do anything to make their favourite teacher happy :) fyi they don't do any of these in other classes.

✎ yandere! history teacher who loves talking to you about history! he's so energetic, so sweet :) he also likes talking about his past and how he wishes to make history with you. but you're a little dense and don't see his flirts. it's okay! you'll cave one way or another :)

✎ yandere! math teacher who's cold and stoic to everyone but you. giving you heartfelt smiles, little trinkets (that are very expensive), and lots of red roses! anyone can see that he's courting you, except for you of course. he's a little bit annoyed at your denseness but finds it attractive nontheless.

✎ yandere! school counselor who's there for you when your date dumps you. oh dear! what an asshole he is! don't worry, she's there for you :) after a change of clothes, some hydrogen peroxide and some burying, she's there 24/7 for you!

✎ yandere! school nurse who patches up your wounds and injuries lovingly. how'd you even get these anyways? the small pout and light blush on his cheeks whenever he patches you up always remind you of a small puppy! after patching you up, he thanks the people he hired to hurt you lightly with a wad of cash for the opportunity to be so close to you.

✎ yandere! principal who's an attractive middle aged woman of tall stature. she always gives you a bonus and treats you so kindly! you are ever so thankful for her and the amazing job she allowed you to have :) as if she didn't have her sights on you since day 1.

✎ yandere! security guard who swears he does this for your safety! it's not stalking if he's doing it to keep you safe :( following you around after school hours, scaring away pests that approach you... you see?! he's only doing this to protect you!

✎ yandere! pe teacher who you find kind of weird with how deeply he breathes around you and how his face always flushes pink at the mere mention of your name. and why are his knuckles always bruised? you know he works out a lot but still... it's cause he's always fighting creeps who want your attention silly!!

✎ yandere! school who loves and cares for you in their own little ways. you're their precious darling after all.

[cinnamonest]

Malebolge

Yandere/Dark Morax x Reader

WORDS: 18.2k

-----

And thus, here it is.

Important note that I'm largely basing this on [[this post]] I made ages ago about a conquered and captive goddess!darling during the war era because 1) it has never left the back of my mind since making that post, 2) I have watched way too many of those Chinese historical palace dramas where they're essentially confined to the palace and I find that very hot and 3) utterly brutal war era Morax >>>>>>>

Warnings/Notes: DARK CONTENT, fem reader, noncon/rape, captivity, rough sex/pain/more or less physical abuse, moderate but not full-on asphyxiation, draconic features (namely claw-like nails, horns, and most importantly dual reptile dick because I am both incredibly degenerate and greatly appreciate that this seems to be a not uncommon HC so I know I'm not alone), double penetration (vaginal/anal), degradation, forced cultural assimilation, brief mentions of death scare/past death scare, Xiao is there for like .008 seconds with no dialogue

Also I have learned more about lizard mating in the past week than any human should ever have any business knowing so if you want lizard seggs info I now know way too much of it

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Malebolge (n.) ( /mælˈboʊldʒ/):

The Dantean 8th Circle of Hell. An inescapable cavern.

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You winced at the slightest of shifting, the unconscious action creating a sting that stirred you from a deep slumber.

In the half-awake state, you grunted as you shifted again, this time rolling more onto your side, but the soreness merely shifted with you.

There was no position in which you could be comfortable. No matter what way you lay down, there was pain. Stinging pain, aching pain, throbbing pain, a multitude of acute points of pain dotted all over your body. As it always did, the painful sensation began to pull your mind into the waking world.

Your back and hips were scratched. That was the stinging pain. Marks where claws had gripped into your flesh, leaving inflamed, reddish lines over your flesh.

Your thighs and sides where bruised from crushing grip. If you lay on your stomach, your chafed and swollen nipples would sting even at the lightest contact with the sheets, and the position would only intensify the perpetual dull, throbbing ache inside of your body, internal bruises and the muscles of your orifices pulled and stretched and rubbed raw to the point they never ceased to ache.

It was nothing compared to moving, to the deep ache in each limb with the slightest of exertion, but even at rest, with no movement at all, a dull, throbbing ache pulsated across your body.

It wasn't the physical pain itself, though, that was unbearable. Pain was part of life. Pain was something every entity that lived long enough was all too familiar with — for deities like yourself that lived often longer than they could even recall, life was full of quite a great deal of pain.

What you hated about the pain, rather, was the way it always triggered a deep swell of bitterness and anger in your chest and stomach. What it meant. That it brought on a surge of emotions and thoughts far more unbearable than the soreness itself.

"Mm—?!"

You inhaled a sharp breath as pressure pushed against your stomach, a force that pulled you backwards across the sheets. Your back pressed into a soft warmth — not without sending a shooting pain across the surface along your spine, where the muscles had been pulled to the point of soreness from strain, a sore internal ache of your sphincter from stretch and wear, and a sharper sting against the irritated, raw flesh of your backside and the backs of your thighs.

The arm locked tightly onto your body, upper arm crossing over your stomach, forearm turned and pressed against your chest, all keeping you in your place. You could feel a gentle, slow rise and fall of the chest pressed to your back, bare skin on bare skin, without any layers of clothing separating your bodies.

Your eyelids just barely parted, only to squeeze shut once more at the morning light shining directly into your eyes. A small ray of light, given how small the tiny, high-up, barred window was, but it managed to be ever so inconveniently placed right at your frame of vision. You grunted at the burn, but it served to pull your consciousness out of the haze of drowsiness and into full alertness. There was no telling exactly what time it was, but the sun was up enough that you would likely be getting up very soon anyway. Those attendants — some of them devout human servants, some subjugated higher beings — always came by at a consistent time each morning to bring food and water, which often was your wake-up call each day.

You closed your eyes once more, trying to ignore the stinging and throbbing that ran all across your body, hoping to maybe get a few more minutes of sleep.

You shifted slightly to alleviate awkward positioning, rolling further onto your side, only to grimace as the shifting of your pelvis reignited a soreness, a dull ache not on the outside flesh, but a deep internal bruising. Your body jolted and stiffened, toes curling and face contorting with the pain.

But as you began to relax your muscles again, as the pain ebbed away, your brief jolting seemed to have awakened your bedmate, feeling a stirring and shifting behind you, the arm around you shifting in its position. The movement caused you to roll onto your back. Your eyes slowly opened again, and a soft noise escaped your throat.

You went still, thinking that it was a momentary unconscious reaction, but after a moment, the bedsheets shifted again as Morax moved, slightly propping himself up on one elbow, high enough of a point to look over to your face from above. Perhaps you could have closed your eyes and feigned sleep, had you thought to do so, but your instinctive reaction was to turn your head and raise your gaze up to that which looked down at you.

You were given a soft smile.

"Did you sleep well?"

The question, although you sensed genuine well-intent in it, was biting, almost mocking. You felt your jaw clench and irritation rise in your chest, fighting back the urge to become immediately spiteful.

As always, you had had trouble falling asleep, waking up multiple times in the night. The throbbing kept you from drifting off, and you hadn't been allowed to get up and wipe yourself clean of the slime sensation of fluids leaking out between your legs, thus forcing you to deal with the unpleasant, icky feeling all night — which now persisted as an equally unpleasant dried substance tacked on your inner thighs. Even after you'd fallen asleep, the slightest of movements in your sleep would jolt you awake with soreness. The same routine you underwent each and every night.

And yet—

"Yes..."

—was the word you forced out of your mouth, equally forcing the corners of your mouth upward, albeit weakly.

"Mm." He lowered himself back down, gently extending the arm that had been around you once more, turning you to face him and pulling you closer. A soft sound came out of your throat, but you made no effort to pull away. Your face came to rest against the god's chest, forehead brushing up against his collarbones.

"There's no need to rise just yet," he continued, stroking a hand up and down your back  — not without running over sore spots, but only lightly. "You should rest a while longer. You're undoubtedly worn out."

Once more, you had to bite your tongue to prevent saying something you shouldn't in response to the implication of the words and the vague feeling of degradation it carried.

The touch of bare flesh to bare flesh was an electrifying sort of feeling. Whether or not it was so in a positive or negative sense was, of course, dependent on the circumstances, but even if you could forget or disregard all of the circumstances you yourself were under, just the mere sensation consumed your sense of feeling. Touches from another person lingered in a way that touching objects or the feeling of one's clothes on their body did not. The brushing of another person's skin up against vulnerable areas usually kept covered would maintain a lasting feeling of awareness of that touch, lingering for a while thereafter.

And, of course, that touch of bare skin carried with it a sense of shame. A sort of subtle reminder. Of course, that was not even really the intention, seeing as you naturally fell asleep this way, but you were certain he knew the feeling it invoked in you, and even more certain that he found your embarrassment satisfying. Even now, you swore you heard a sort of heavy exhale in amusement as you stiffened when your bare abdomen pressed against his. You suppressed a shiver as your sore, inflamed nipples brushed against his skin, but couldn't help the grimace of your face. You tried to close your eyes, thinking perhaps you could sleep again.

But then, you stiffened further as he ran his hand down your back once more. Your shoulders bunched up, your breath hitched.

The motion was so gentle. Fingers barely brushing over your skin.

Nonetheless, those same soft, gentle touches of his fingers running down your back ignited a residual, burning pain. After a moment, he transitioned to using a finger to trace over scabbed scratches running down your back, as if it were a pattern. The hand trailed lower, softly meeting your hip, causing you to jolt as it bumped onto a bruise.

It then came down further still, to grasp at the fleshy, soft curve of your ass. Just the mere contact to the spot stung. The flesh was raw and sensitive to every little touch. Even the sheets brushing against the flesh sparked pain. You inhaled a sharp breath through your nostrils, one you were certain could not have gone unheard, but was not acknowledged nonetheless.

But it was so gentle. The touches were so light and so careful, as if handling something of great fragility. It was almost impossible to believe they were the same hands from which the pain originated.

He exhaled, breath warm against your face, and tilted his head down, grabbing your own chin to tilt yours up. His hand rested on your hip. Your heart began to beat faster.

And then, just as your lips were so close to meeting that you could feel their warmth, there was a knock on the door. You both turned your heads over to the sound, but you lay still as he stood, threw on the robe beside the bed, and walked over to the door, opening for a mere moment and exchanging a brief murmur of acknowledgement before taking something into his hands.

Right. This would be around the correct time, when you were brought food each and every morning. You weren't certain if it was merely customary for the harbor people to eat their meals in their bedrooms, or if it was just done to keep you confined to one room as much as possible... but if you had to guess, it was very likely the latter.

You let your eyes close again, only vaguely processing the distinct sound of a tray being set on the table at the end of the room, and the footsteps coming back over to you. His hand slid underneath your form and lightly pressed upward, prompting you to sit upright, which you obediently followed.

The shifting caused the sheets to fall down from your body, exposing your bare chest. It wasn't as if it really mattered, all things considered, but you nonetheless raised your arm up across your breasts to cover them to the best of your ability.

Your own robe was right there, well within reach, having been carelessly slung over the bedpost to your side. It would be a simple extension of the arm to grab it and pull it onto your body, to cover your nakedness.

But you didn't dare do so yourself. That was, you knew from experience, one of many possible missteps that risked upsetting your master. It was doing something on your own, determining something for yourself. Such a simple act was a transgression, because it was an assertion, a nonverbal declaration that you would and even could take an action, transition from one state of condition to another, not only without explicit permission to do so. Likewise, it not only made an assumption that you would be permitted to do so, but it was also an assertion that you could do anything at all for yourself, a notion that you were supposed to leave no possible implications of being the truth. Such a simple, brief action would be an act of both defiance, arrogance, and independence alike.

Thus, you stayed perfectly still. After a moment, thankfully, it was retrieved for you, and you held your arms out weakly at it was secured around your body. After another moment of hesitation, knowing not to leave the bed of your own volition as well, you waited until you were gently held at the waist and pulled to the edge, a non-verbal command to stand. You stood and waited for the hand on your back with the lightest of a push, a motion permitting you to walk over and sit. You murmured your thanks as you were handed food, and bit your tongue when you were given an affectionate — and that much more belittling — pat on the head.

You swallowed your food without really tasting it, a mechanical process you went through each day to keep yourself alive (and, of course, because the prospect of a hunger strike would certainly not be well-met). The atmosphere as you ate was quiet, outside of the light sounds of utensils hitting the ceramic and the faint sound of your chewing. It was an awkward, heavy sort of silence, but silence was, in a way, good. Silence, boredom, they were neutral. Not particularly good on their own, but they were also an absence of anything negative. All far superior to less pleasant alternatives.

But you couldn't distract yourself from the sense of shame this morning ritual always carried with it. It was so domestic, so compliant on your end, perfectly trained to a set routine.

It was not only your own demeanor, though, in which the calmness and gentleness of it bothered you. Just as you did not create conflict or instigate any unpleasant interaction, neither were you presented with any hostility, cruelty, or aggression, so long as you performed your role without any mistakes or resistance.

But you almost wished you were.

Your long life had by no means been sheltered from witnessing the brutality of the world, even if you had thankfully not been subjected to it prior. You'd seen various gods and deities of different kinds, many of whom would savagely beat and maim subjects and underlings, even kill them, without a second thought. Inflicting the most unfathomable suffering on the lesser creatures for no purpose other than amusement.

That had not been the case with you at all.

The draconic Lord was not needlessly ill-natured, but perhaps that would almost be preferable. Any interaction always ended up with a burning feeling in your chest of humiliation, always spoken to like a stupid child or animal ➖not in a cruel sort of degradation and condescension, but an endeared, affectionate sort, that made it all that much more unbearable.

At least with an outwardly cruel master, you would be able to find solace in spite, feel a sense of dignity that came with hatred for an oppressive figure. The form of degradation you were forced to endure, however, was not like that of a tormentor or oppressor that would maim and brutalize their subjects within an inch of their life at random for amusement, nor do irreparable harm to their bodies by starvation or mutilation. Likewise, there would be a sort of pride you could maintain if you were kept in horrid conditions; if you were imprisoned in some filthy dungeon, starved and beaten and barely kept alive, enduring that would be a mark of pride. It would validate you as an opposing force, you could look your tormentor in the eye knowing you did not succumb, you could still hold your head high.

Yet, you were kept healthy and well-fed. Everything you were given to wear was of utmost quality, and most often pure silk, gliding smoothly against your skin with every movement. Your conditions were those of a life many mortals and immortals alike would dream of having. And you were never treated with severe, true violence — nothing that would break your bones, nothing that would injure you to the point of needing medical attention or threaten your life.

And yet, in its own way, that in and of itself felt like its own form of degradation, in part because it was all forced upon you, unable to be denied even if you wished. To be cared for in such a way, but given no agency of your own. Treated like a prized possession, and yet almost nothing that happened in your day, almost nothing you yourself even did, was of your own volition, all forced upon you.

It was, you knew deep down, the life of a pet. Perhaps better analogized to a child or a toy, but nonetheless looked down upon as a fragile, helpless, stupid creature; inferior, yet simultaneously treasured and treated with a sense of affection.

And yet, all the same, your body was sore, scratched and bruised, pinpointed spots of throbbing and aching and burning pains littered across your flesh, and deeper aches still from the insides of your bodily orifices.

In many ways, it was one of the worst parts of each day, to come out of the dreaming world and be confronted with the multitude of little indicators and reminders of your subjugation. Every aspect of your life had been moulded into matching the culture of your ruler deity, stripped of your own, which had had, as you'd learned, a great deal of differences, despite not being geographically too far apart. Nonetheless, you were eating their food, wearing their clothing, sleeping in a bed and a home of their architectural style, speaking their tongue. And above all—

"____, today will be a bit different from your usual routine."

Your jaw clenched.

Yes, that was what you hated the most. That name. It felt offensive, insulting, to have been robbed of the name you had used for centuries, only to have another forced upon you. You didn't get any say in what it was, it was merely assigned to you from the moment you had come. The phonology itself was very obviously derived from their linguistic culture, replacing your own, taking from you the last and most basic, fundamental part of your individuality.

But you said nothing. You looked up, raising your eyebrows in an inquisitive expression.

He placed his palm on top of your head, in what you supposed was intended to be another affectionate gesture.

"I have important matters to attend to today." His voice was of his usual, neutral tone, gentle but deep.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment before giving a single, soft nod. That was one of many common phrases that each carried their own implicative, secondary message, left unsaid but understood nonetheless. If a given day contained a great deal of matters deemed important, that would often mean you would spend a great deal of your day sitting in place, listening to a bunch of people talk about subjects of no relevance or significance to yourself, quiet and still like a lifeless doll. Only present to be seen. The 'important' descriptor meant nothing to you in and or itself, as no matters that were dealt with here ever meant anything to you, it was merely attached as a means of getting a message of its own across: that the tolerance threshold for any ill-intended behavior, outbursts, or any other form of acting out was temporarily far lower, and that consequently, any such behaviors would hold significantly higher penalties than they usually held.

"Alright."

Your voice still came out hoarse. It wasn't as if there was much else to say. You couldn't bring yourself to care enough to inquire further, and there was no sense in raising some sort of objection to the matter.

Rather, perhaps there was reason for it in spite alone, but it was a scene that had played itself out so many times in the past that at this point, it would merely be like rereading the same book for the hundredth time, the same words and actions and events played out again and again. Even if the resentment in your heart urged you to be defiant out of sheer emotion, at this point there was almost a sort of boredom to the idea, one that your emotions were, at least for the moment, not strong enough to override.

Sometimes you would act out just to alleviate boredom with the usual routine, so it was merely a matter of, upon any given day, which option sounded more appealing. After a long streak of good behavior, the days would become boring enough that creating chaos and conflict was entertaining... then the consequences of that would put you into another streak of compliance, and the cycle continued. Right now, you decided against it. You merely raised a cup of water up to your mouth, savoring the coolness to your throat as you drank what remained of it.

That was, however, not the full extent of information you were to be given. He set the cup in his hand down on the table before adding more explanation.

"I'll be meeting with... adversaries, and I would prefer to keep your existence unknown to them." He straightened his posture where he sat. "You are to stay in here for the day. I will be back by nightfall. Understood?"

You merely gave a soft nod, not taking your gaze off the floor until you saw movement. He leaned forward over the table, coming down to grab at your jaw, tilting your head upward to force eye contact. You felt a sudden jolt to your gut as your eyes met. While clearly not actively upset, his expression still communicated displeasure, eyes narrowed and face otherwise unexpressive and flat, lacking the faint smile of contentment he so often wore. His voice was firm as he spoke again, repeating the question with greater emphasis.

"Do you understand?"

You nodded frantically. Were it not for the tension of the moment, it might have been a touch comical how his fingers squished at your cheeks, distorting your speech.

"Y-yesh, Mash-ter..."

He exhaled a slow, deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes. His grip grew soft, coming to gently cup your cheek instead.

"Very well, then."

He leaned further forward, ever so softly pressing his lips to the top of your forehead for a brief moment before standing up and turning around, making his way over to the door. "Should you grow bored, there's a good deal of reading material on the shelves behind you." He turned around to shut the door behind him. This time, as your eyes met, he gave you a soft expression, corners of his mouth upturning just slightly. "I'll send for someone to bring you food and water in a few hours. I'll try to return as soon as possible."

You nodded. You tried to put on a similar expression in return, but your mouth twitched with the attempt. "I understand."

You had to force the words out of your mouth. What you truly felt went unspoken aloud, but the spite remained in your head nonetheless.

Please don't.

And once the door shut, you were left in what felt like a suffocating quiet. A tense, uneasy atmosphere, despite the stillness and silence of the room.

For a moment, you merely sat perfectly still, staring forward with dull eyes and an absence of mind, no thoughts of any kind beyond a sort of static buzz in the back of your head. With your life as it was, it was all too easy to slip into that foggy state, lulled into a waking sleep by the mundaneness and emptiness of everything you did, to the point that your brain was easily able to achieve a state of nothingness.

But after a moment, your eyes began to dart around the room. Your gaze fixated on your own shadow for a moment before you turned your head to the side, as if expecting to see something different from the same layout as always, as if something would change. Of course, it hadn't; the only windows remained high enough that you'd need to stand on your toes just for your fingers to brush against the bottom edge, and were covered by metallic bars at that.

And while the light just so happened to shine perfectly into your eyes from where you rested each day in bed, the small size of the windows and high placement left the room very dim even in the middle of the day. You supposed this room had been intentionally built for the purpose of keeping someone in. It certainly performed that function adequately.

Your heart rate was increasing. The subtle awareness of your situation began to slowly trail to the forefront of your mind, still largely held back by a profound fogginess that went beyond sleepiness.

Your eyes did graze over the books at the other end of the room, but you had no desire to even pick them up. Such things had ceased to hold any interest. These days, the mere notion of most activities seemed dull, uninteresting. You doubted the subjects of the material would be of any particular interest to you, anyway. You merely sat still, turned your gaze back to the door.

There was an unspoken understanding about the situation; you had seen in his eyes before he left that he knew you understood. It was a trial of sorts, a test. You had not been left entirely alone before. On normal days, you were dragged around from place to place, often meeting with all sorts of people whose names and faces you made no effort to register in your memory. Kept in your master's lap to be looked at, to be seen and displayed. You usually sat perpendicular to him, so that you could lean onto his chest and close your eyes and block it all out.

And when you could not be with him, when it was time to go to combat in the chaos and war of the world outside, or otherwise doing something you could not partake in, you were left with an attendant outside your door. And yet, when he had opened the door to leave, you could see there was no one outside. That, and telling you outright that an attendant would come along in a few hours was in and of itself a subtle double-message, intended to inform you that that meant, logically following, that there was no attendant watching over you at that moment, that you were going without supervision.

This was, thus, you immediately concluded, a test to see if you would stay in place, if you would still be in the room when he returned. A test of obedience, loyalty, and perhaps, how much you feared him.

It was only natural, thus, as that realization settled in, that your mind began to race with uncertainty. The mere thought, naturally, triggered an immediate impulse. Your innate instinct was to launch yourself out the door that very second and go bounding away down the hall.

Yet, of course, the more rational part of your consciousness halted that impulse with a sense of wariness and caution. If it was indeed a test, which you were more or less certain it was, that also meant there was almost guaranteed to be a sort of insurance measure for the possibility of your failure. There could very well have been guards posted by the door, intentionally placed so you wouldn't have seen them when it was opened. Hell, for all you knew, he could have very well been lying about any obligations, and merely be waiting right outside the door, ready to catch you in any act of disloyalty. It was likely that any doors to the outside would be locked or barred. There could be a physical trap of some kind, too. That was perhaps that being the most humiliating possibility, invoking the thought of being forced to sit in an obvious display of your actions and wait to be found and freed.

You gave your head a quick shake to clear your mind, halting the train of thought in its place.

The safe thing to do was nothing. With action, with hope, came risk, and with risk came rightful fear. Doing anything other than staying put was sure to end poorly. To even think to intentionally violate the standard of behavior you were being blatantly tested for was incredibly foolish and naive. You imagined that such an attempt would be the absolute worst of transgressions you could possibly commit, and the mere thought of irreparably crossing some sort of line made you shiver.

Drop it. Forget it. Leave it be.

You repeated the words to yourself, over and over, trying to quell the impulse. It was for your own good.

...But there was nothing wrong with just poking your head out the door, was there? Even if you were immediately met with someone, you could easily say you thought you heard something and were just checking to see the source of the sound. That was as good an excuse as any.

That alone couldn't hurt. It would just be for a second. Just to look.

Slowly, without much active thought, you found yourself rising to your feet. You swallowed, and took a deep breath.

In a way, you almost hoped you would open the door and see someone standing there. At least then, that could be the end of it. Any faint hope could be extinguished, you could return to the comfort that came with helplessness, knowing you could not do anything. When that window of opportunity didn't exist, there were no what-ifs, no fear of missing out on an opportunity, no conflict of what to do.

But as your hand slowly pushed the door open, you were only met with a dark hall.

The halls were, by contrast to the room, far more dark and unsettling. Windowless spaces only illuminated by a few lamps along the walls.

You turned your head left, then right, analyzing both halls. The left one ended very shortly with an opening to another two options to turn down subsequent halls, while the right one carried on for some distance before doing the same.

But what you did not see, was any presence other than your own. There was no one. Only emptiness.

You felt something, though. Something beyond your primary senses. A subconscious, skin-crawling feeling, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, that made you feel cold all over. As if being watched, even surrounded by emptiness.

A nauseous feeling crept up in your gut. You shut the door in haste, shakily stumbling backwards as if having been shoved. You lowered yourself down to sit on the ground once more, legs feeling too uneasy to keep standing. The door seemed to loom intimidatingly before you. It was so close, and yet, the thought of stepping outside of it on your own felt foreign, somehow wrong, as if some extreme action that no one in their right mind would do.

No. There was nothing, you had seen so yourself. It was merely the feeling of dread becoming too much, holding you back. You were letting paranoia go to your head.

And that brought back the self-directed frustration, anger. You were letting fear get the better of you. You had literally seen with your own two eyes that there was nothing outside. You could walk out, and no one would know.

There was a burning sensation in your chest. A long-forgotten, supressed feeling. Your dignity and pride... how pathetic was it to not even take this opportunity to do something? Even if you couldn't get out, you could at least look around, familiarize yourself with what was around you. Yes, you likely wouldn't be able to find a way out today, but at the very least, scouting it out would be incredibly useful for the future.

To stay here and cower in submission and obedience... would that just go on forever/ In the back of your mind, you had always made some sort of automatic assumption that you would, one day, get out. You had always thought about the future in those terms, wondered what you'd do or where you'd go when that happened. The sudden, intrusive thought, even merely a passing one for just a brief moment, that this would be permanent...

Just as the thought crossed your mind, your eyes trailed over to a mirror on the other side of the room, the vertical sort that extended to the floor.

You sat in place for some time. Unmoving, staring at your own reflection, letting the minutes pass by in quiet, transfixed, unable to look away.

Your eyes looked dull and tired. Your body was slouched over, like a limp doll left to sit on the ground. You scanned every inch of your body. The way your hands rested limply in your lap. The scratches on your back that you could see the ends of where the loose robes had fallen down to expose your shoulders. Taking it all in. It felt like nothing more than a husk, soul long since departed.

Every little detail was a mark of ownership over you, a claim to your life, body and soul, a statement that they all were no longer your own. As if stripping you of personhood, redesigning your exterior and your habits to serve as a perpetual reminder that you were defeated, broken into submission.

And in that new, reconstructed person, there was no place to have any pride. Any dignity or self-respect was out of place, it did not belong, it was not supposed to exist anywhere within the new object that had been created. It was a smudge on a fine painting, dust on a shelf, dirt on a toy -- it would be unhesitatingly wiped away, ensuring that the respective possession of value was free of such undesired impurities. Leaving behind only a flawless object that would perfectly serve its purpose, to be used as it was designed to be.

A painting's was to be looked at, a shelf's was to store, and a toy... it was to be played with, used for the enjoyment of its owner.

Some time passed. Many thoughts came and went, miserable, bitter, and shameful. You sat there and stared. At some point, your eyes began to slowly close, your head felt heavy and cloudy, and your body relaxed...

But it was then that you seemed to snap out of your transfixation, shaking your head. You'd nearly gone to sleep sitting up, and would have wasted the day away. Such falling asleep during the day had become something of a habit at this point, often sleeping for far longer periods of time than necessary or even healthy, just to escape from the waking world.

Your chest felt tight with shame. No. You wouldn't allow that. To just sit there and be a good, obedient pet. Your sense of pride, whatever remained of it, couldn't allow that. The you from before wouldn't have allowed you to become like this, would be ashamed of you for inaction.

You rose to your feet once more and, with a deep breath to steady your nerves, made your way back to the door, opening it once more. After turning your head once again, checking to ensure it was still empty, you looked down at the ground, where the pattern of the floor transitioned over a straight line dividing the room and the hall.

You hesitated for another moment. The fear was still present, even if you did your best to go on in spite of it. It felt daunting, like some tremendous act.

But you stepped over it nonetheless, tiles cool on the soles of your feet. And then, you were left standing.

You left the door open, just in case someone came along and you needed to rush back into the room. You turned your head in each direction.

You had been down the left hall plenty of times, you were fairly familiar with the layout of the estate, having intentionally made sure to commit it to memory, should there be any possibility of finding an exit.

The right hall, however, you'd never been down. But not only was it so expansive it was difficult to take it all in, there was also the fact that as far as you knew, it only led to more and more rooms, you could see doors in a line down the walls as far as your vision extended.

It was still morning. If he said he would be back before nightfall, that meant you had a great deal of time. Although you were told there would be an attendant to bring you a midday meal, but even that would be at least a few hours away, even with you having wasted... you estimated around maybe two hours idly sitting in the room.

Even if you couldn't get out, you could at least pace yourself to go explore a bit and memorize what you found, trying to mentally keep track of time and return before someone came. If someone found you outside, then, you could claim you were searching for an attendant to request water or food. That was perfectly realistic, wasn't it?

As you took the first steps, a shiver ran down your spine. There it was again, that intense feeling of unease, something beyond the fear of being seen. Some sensation, some sense that made you twitch, eyes darting all around. There was still nothing. And yet, your heart rate increased even further than the nervousness already paced it, your breathing grew heavier and faster. You took a few more cautious steps. The feeling persisted, and in a way, seemed to direct you, a subconscious way of feeling the direction it was coming from, controlling your gaze to follow the sensation. Following what seemed like the silent command of that sense, your head tilted upwards to the rafters of the ceiling.

For just a moment, the slightest of seconds, you caught a glimpse of something.

A dark, humanoid silhouette, a smaller frame than that of your master's, barely distinguishable from the surrounding shadow, crouched down on the rafter beam and leaning forward. Bright yellow eyes that shone out in the darkness, wide open and staring at you with eerily intense focus.

A spike of panic lurched through your chest. You inhaled a sharp gasp and took an instinctive step back, your frame of sight disoriented and blurred with the movement.

And then, as your vision refocused, it was gone.

You blinked a few times, rubbed at your eyes, and looked again. Yes, there was nothing there.

You exhaled the air you'd been holding in, a shuddering breath.  You reached a trembling hand up to the spot where your neck met your jaw, pressing two fingers down into the flesh to feel just how hard and fast your heart pounded.

It was merely your own paranoia getting to your head, imagining things. You had to shake it off and keep going. Your footsteps hastened.

You still slowed yourself down as you reached a dark corner, slowly poking your head over the bend. Nothing down the next hall, either, nor could you hear any footsteps or faint chatter or anything that would indicate another presence. It gave you at least some boost in assurance, steadying your walking.

And the next corner, and the next corner. It was as if there wasn't a soul in the whole, massive building, despite there usually being servants to the god that moved around performing various tasks, and guards as well. The Geo god spared no effort in maintaining subjects to keep everything in this place in line, whatever said place was. You knew it was not the real world — that was how the realm had been, by whatever means, indued with some sort of ward that had left you unable to use your own divine power from the moment you were brought in. Many gods had similar dwellings... but they could all be entered and exited, and this would be no exception.

Still, it almost felt too easy. Following the widest hall and keeping to the right side seemed to lead you exactly the way you wanted to go, into areas silent but still dimly lit enough to see. After what seemed like a torturously suspended wait, you halted in place as you rounded the next bend.

Your heart began to pound not merely in fear, but excitement, an exhilarating buzz in your chest that elated your spirit. This hall did not end with another curve, but instead, a door.

A set of large double doors, to be exact. It was a deep red, the wood intricately carved, the frame equally designed with obvious devotion and craftsmanship. Larger and more eye-catchingly ornate than any of the doors lining the hallway, and set at the very end of the hall, looming before you in an almost unnerving perfection, picturesque in a near perfect symbol of the end of your short journey.

That was, of course, indicative of a front door.

A door leading outside.

You could feel your heartbeat throughout your body, each pulse a pounding in your chest, a rush through your throat and extremities. The tile was cold to your bare feet as they slowly, cautiously stepped forward, each footstep just the lightest and faintest of sounds.

Your hand turned the knob and pulled. It was quite heavy, as could be expected from the quality and authenticity of the wood used for such a large entryway. Still, with a tug, the door slid on its hinges towards you. Your shoulders tensed up at the low groaning sound of the aged wood.

The sunlight was nearly blinding, just the mere sliver that came through the gap to which you'd opened it, no more than the width of your hand. The sudden burn caught you off-guard, and you stiffened as your eyes reflexively shut, taking a moment to adjust before slowly, barely parting your eyelids once more.

As your eyes quickly adjusted to the light, you could make out the myriad of colors that composed the natural part of the realm, green all around of grass and plants, the blue sky dotted with puffy clouds.

The sun not only brought its light, but also a pleasant warmth that swept over the narrow vertical line of your body that the light shone upon. As you inhaled, your nostrils were filled with the invigorating fresh scent of dirt and sky and life, the air itself warm in your lungs.

For the briefest of moments, you stood perfectly still, taking just a single second to bask in the euphoria gracing your senses even in spite of your nerves.

But you couldn't just go running out, no, that would be foolish... right? You had no idea how to get out of this realm from here, and would certainly be seen by some guard or attendant or another if you recklessly walked out in broad daylight. If you were caught, it would be ages before this sort of opportunity would come again.

But it couldn't hurt, surely, to just peek around the door, to poke your head out and get a better look at your surroundings. You pulled the door a bit wider, just enough to fit your head through, holding the edge of the door propped open with your forearm.

There were no visible persons outside, either. No guards, no humans nor beasts. Just sun and grass and decoratively assembled stone and masonry that carried on for a ways into the distance.

And more importantly, you could see in the distance, at the end of a winding trail, a glowing pillar of light. The devices that led in and out of these ethereal realms. You had seen plenty in your time in godhood.

In that case... even if there were guards beyond your frame of sight, if you made a run for it, you could probably reach the end. And once you were out into the real world, surely even with your limited combative capacity, you could still utilize the abilities you possessed to get far away and ward off any pursuers. You could run far, far away, find a new land to live in. You could feign being a regular mortal and live life alongside them to conceal yourself. You were not the sort of overly-prideful deity that would consider such a thing to be an insult; in fact, such a prospect didn't sound bad at all.

It was all far too perfect. You found the corners of your mouth turning upward on their own, unable to conceal your excitement even if you had tried. Perhaps the higher beings in Celestia had taken favor on you, or decided to compensate you for your unjust persecution. Your breathing was so heavy that your shoulders and chest rose and fell with each respiration. Your eyes watered. It didn't even feel real, it was all so sudden, your mind felt frozen in shock. Your whole body was filled with a tingling sensation, your head felt lighter than air. You pulled your head back through the door, reaching back for the handle and pulling it wide enough to slip your body through, watching as more light poured into the dark hall.

A startled grunt came out of your throat as your body was jerked forward by the door slamming shut, pulled by your hand still gripping the handle.

The harsh sound of the door forcefully hitting its frame echoed across the vastness of the hall, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears.

You stood frozen stiff, still slightly leaning forward from the motion. Unmoving as a statue, paralysis seizing your body. It felt as if even your heart stopped, every organ and vein in your body completely gone still. There was a tightness in your chest, a heavy feeling in your gut, as if your stomach weighed your body down. Your hand was still latched onto the door handle, grip having gone limp, but arm still stiffly extended, unable to move if you tried.

A distinct, straight strip of shadow darkened the area just before you, blocking the light from above. As the echo of the door crashing back into the frame faded, only silence remained.

Your eyes slowly trailed upward. With hesitancy, a slowness out of the cold, heavy feeling in your gut. Delaying the inevitable, torn between frantic urge to know and yet desperately wanting not to. Suspending the few precious seconds of intentional ignorance.

A hand was pressed against the door, having shut it with force. The flesh of the arm outstretched above you from behind gradually darkened in color downwards to the hand that was pressed flat to the surface of the door, the end of each finger tipped with curved, thick claws, rather than fingernails. The fingers curled just a bit, with the slightest sound of a scrape against the wood.

An arm extended out directly above your head, trailing back to something behind you. You could feel a radiating warmth against your back, just shy of brushing against you, so close that you could even detect it without the primary senses, some sort of innate ability to sense presence.

Your jaw was slack, lips parted just in the slightest. Your mouth opened wider, as if to say something, but nothing came out, throat choked and tight.

Until, that is, you felt something brush against the top of your shoulder. The other arm extended forward, crossing over the shoulder to reach for your face.

Muscles across your body twitched and tightened, your eyes blew wider open still, body stiffening even further as a series of sharp pinpoints slowly, lightly came to rest on the flesh of your face, fingers gripping your jaw. Not too harshly, nor lightly. A perfect balance; not enough to cause real pain, but just heavily enough that you could acutely feel the sharpness of the ends pressing into the soft flesh of your face.

And with that, your stillness ceased. Albeit still stiff, every inch of your body began to tremble.

Your lip trembled. Your eyes began to water.

The silence felt like it would crush you, a heavy nothingness for several seconds.

"...And just what are you doing out here?"

As involuntary as your shaking, high-pitched, fearful little sound came out of the back of your throat. Pathetic and shameful. The sound of your own voice in your ears made a hot, bitter feeling of shame course through your body, amidst the fear that seized your entire being. Your mouth opened, twitching as you tried to speak.

"A-ah... I..."

Any words you could have summoned felt caught in your throat. You went silent, unable to finish. A few more moments of tense silence passed. You stood in place, unable to bring yourself to turn around.

The hand on the door retracted, slowly moving downward. The arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you so that your bodies now touched. The body behind you leaned forward and downward, just enough to speak directly into your ear, face brushing against the side of your own.

"You're quite a ways away from where you were told to stay." He slowly drummed his fingers against the narrowest part of your waist. "You must have wandered out by mistake and gotten disoriented."

In a quieter, lower voice, so close to your ear you could feel his breath as he spoke, he finished,

"...Is that right?"

It was, of course, blatantly facetious. Pretending as if that were even a reasonable explanation, a sort of mutually understood, mock disingenuousness. Transparently so, no actual effort to make you think he was truly ignorant, mutually understood to be a slow torment.

There might have been a right answer and a wrong answer. Perhaps both were right or wrong, or perhaps neither was either. It was a question to test your reaction, see if you would be spiteful or obediently meek. Even so, the submissive option was also a wrongdoing of dishonesty.

But in your panicked impulse, that was the option you rushed for nonetheless.

"I..." You swallowed. "Y-yes, I... I was just..." You looked down, only to see with your own eyes how badly your body trembled. Another matter came to mind. "I... I thought you were with...?"

He waited a moment to respond. "...I was." The cold ominousness and implication of discontentment of his tone made you wince, but he spoke again before you could stammer out some insistence of your innocence, or try to apologize. "However, the guardian I had set for you came to inform me you were wandering around the halls, so it's adjourned for the day."

You grinded your teeth. You had seen something after all, it wasn't just imagination.

Why had you thought otherwise? Of course, of course he wouldn't have left you completely unsupervised. Thinking so for even a moment had been an act of supreme foolishness. You chastised yourself in your head for such stupidity. It was even placed up towards the ceiling with, no doubt, the exact intention of making you believe you weren't being supervised. It felt almost malicious.

Even aside from that matter, hearing those words made your heart sink further, knowing that having to deal with you had interrupted something of utmost significance. For one, that implied that, considering the risk of being interrupted, that he actually, genuinely had believed you would be obedient. Secondly, having disrupted something of importance made your transgression that much greater of an offense, and no doubt, thereby deserving a retribution that much more severe. You could feel your heartbeat across your body, in your throat, in your head, in your limbs, a harsh, intense pounding, pumping adrenaline-laced blood through your system.

But you remained silent. It felt as if something was stuck in your throat, blocking your breath and speech.

A few moments passed. No doubt intentional, dragging out the moment, not granting you the mercy of being spared the torturous dread.  And then, the hands detached from your jaw and waist respectively.

"Alright, now. Come."

His arm reached around your back, hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you forward in manner both gently slow and lacking in force, yet the touch itself firm. His voice was calm, but cold, commanding. It was not aggressive nor harsh, nor loud, nor rough. His facial expression was not only equally calm, but even pleasant, the sort of expression that was just the slightest upturn of the mouth, but more of a smile in the eyes, almost amused. No contortion in anger or disgust.

Morax did not need harshness. Perhaps other gods and rulers and masters might. To require a booming voice and a snarl to one's tone, a forceful aggression and volume and threat of intense violence to instill submission. For others, fear had to be enforced on the subjects, they had to be made to cower.

But not him. He could speak in such a calm voice, and still expect to be followed. It was not an indicator of a lack of power, but the opposite — knowing that you knew that power without having to have it repeatedly demonstrated. Knowing full well you were terrified regardless, perhaps more so with the eerie aura of the calmness. Knowing you had no choice but to follow, that submission was already won, and that there was thus no need to do anything but simply command it. That the possibility of such a direct command being disobeyed did not even cross his mind. A quiet form of dominance only knowable by those at such an apex of power and supremacy that obedience came as naturally to their subjects as breathing.

And that was the thought that infuriated you so, so deeply.

Your heart felt as if it had stopped, a wave of cold that ran through your blood. Pure and unadulterated fear amalgamated with a deep, swelling bitterness, coursing side by side through your veins. Your jaw clenched harder and harder, your hands curled up into fists.

There was something else, though, beyond that. A heavy, burning feeling in your chest. Pressure that had built up, near the point of bursting. All the humiliation and subjugation you had compliantly endured, a foul taste of embittered fury and brutalized pride. You recalled your hollow, tired appearance in the mirror.

You'd been so controlled by fear from the moment you were captured by the other — admittedly far superior — deity, meekly complying most of the time, outside of a few outbursts and moments of defiance that were so infuriatingly written off as immaturity or merely being a brat, treated with indignation and a sort of condescension that yes, once more you thought to yourself that you wished was crueler, that would have been less humiliating and hurtful if you were treated like an enemy or a slave rather than a disobedient child, an unruly pet.

What would the 'you' from before had thought of your willingness to simply bow your head and follow...?

You took a step backwards, pulling yourself out of the grasp of the arm around you.

Perhaps, in part, it was mere reflexive instinct. But there was also force to the action. Intent. Driven by that same swell of resentment, so strong it overrode your dread. You took an uneasy stance, one foot behind you and the other forward, prepared to take another step back.

You both came to a halt. Your eyes met.

You still trembled, but you stood your ground.

The pleasant expression fell from his face. His eyes became half-lidded and narrowed, shoulders shifting downward as the arm that was around you came to rest at his side. There was an ominous edge to his tone as he spoke.

"...Surely you do not want to make this more difficult than need be?"

His gaze felt piercing. Your eyes darted downward.

"I..." You swallowed. "I just..."

It wasn't as if there was a point. Even if you were to turn around and bolt, you wouldn't even be able to get the door open before you'd be caught. There was no practical, logical point to resistance. There was nothing to be gained, and there was certainly a great increase in your imminent suffering if you did not.

And above all, you were consumed by dread, a fearful anticipation. Perhaps that, in part, was what kept your legs locked still, a desire to delay the inevitable. But above all, your pride demanded your resistance.

"...I don't..."

You tried to speak. You could summon the words in your head, at least. Words you had thought before, when you would lay in bed at night, playing out pathetic revenge fantasies in your head where you told him exactly what you thought and felt, like you were some kid imagining yourself standing up to a schoolroom bully you knew you'd never have the gall to face in reality. You'd say that you were sick and tired of being debased and degraded, that you weren't a toy, that you wouldn't tolerate being talked down to any longer, that you weren't an object to be owned. The fantasies always ended there, as you were unable to even imagine a scenario in which the aftermath of such an outburst ended well for you.

You couldn't get the words out. Perhaps in large part due to intimidation, but even still, because you knew that to some extent, many of those statements were wrong. In the most realistic sense, you were owned. That was how the brutality of the real world functioned. The superior ones exerted their strength, and in turn, the weaker ones submitted... or else, were eliminated. If one could successfully imprison and force the other to their will, they essentially did have claim to ownership.

Thus, you merely stood your ground. It was all you could do to look up at him with anger, however obvious the fear alongside it may be, on your face.

He merely huffed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Be reasonable." He turned his gaze back up to you. His eyes narrowed further. "...You will follow, willingly or not. I am extending you the opportunity to demonstrate remorse, and you would be wise to take it."

You remained still, and stayed silent. The quiet weighed down on your chest, as if to crush you. Part of you wanted to give in, a survival instinct to submit and obey, an urge to run forward and fall to your knees in a display of repentance. But you suppressed it, and remained in place.

He paused a moment, waiting for a response, but upon receiving none, he gave a deep sigh, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Three."

Your jaw clenched. The bitter fury rose up like a punch to the stomach.

Of all the things he could have said, to do that, to instigate this degrading routine you'd become so familiar with, was probably the worst.

Your heart beat harder. The very nature of the act strengthened your impulse to rush forward, the setup itself being to intimidate you with gradual increase of threat. Perhaps it was because you knew that, and how degrading it felt, that you managed to stay still.

"Two."

His voice grew a firmer edge with the single word, audibly colder and deeper than the first.

Your fingers curled, clenching your hands into fists. You grinded your teeth. You could feel your eyes water, but with all the willpower you could muster, you refrained from breaking down, from giving in.

But you did give in, at least in a way, to the fear. You couldn't keep looking him in the eye. You turned your gaze to the floor... but it didn't stop you from being able to see his face in the edge of your vision. Given the look on his face, you wished you had turned your head entirely.

He was silent as seconds came and went, having well surpassed the implied time limit. Staring at you with narrowed eyes and a displeased expression.

"...How childish."

When he took a step forward, your panic surged back anew, and you stumbled backwards, but to no avail. His hand locked around your wrist, and the pretense of gentleness momentarily disappeared as you were jerked forward with immense force. You didn't even get the chance to stumble, the force with which you were slung was enough that your feet left the ground and you crashed down to the floor with a frightened yelp, catching yourself on your forearms. As soon as you hit the ground, your shaking hands scrambled to push you back up, but just as you began to shuffle onto your hands and knees, you gagged as your weight was pulled off the ground by a hand grabbing the back of your robe, causing the front to choke you by the throat. Your feet stumbled to find purchase on the ground, but they were pulled off the ground once more, leaving your legs flailing in the air. You went airborne again for a moment as you were thrown upward, retching as your body was slung over his shoulder so that the bone slammed against your stomach.

The journey back seemed so much faster than your initial one, given your shorter legs and how cautious you'd been. You hadn't realized just how short the distance you'd traveled really was until that moment, as the return passed so quickly you became aware of just how pathetically short of a distance you'd truly gotten. You cried out and writhed, less out of a conscious decision, and more pure panic triggering some innate instinct. You were fairly certain you got out a few strained, stuttered words — wait and stop and no — but you received nothing in reply.

It was over in a matter of minutes. The door was still hanging open as you'd left it, but was shut with a harsh sound behind you. You cried out as you were unceremoniously tossed down, body weight slamming into the mattress so that it bounced back for a moment from the impact as you lay stunned on your back.

Your elbows pressed down to prop yourself up. You barely lifted your torso upwards before you were slammed back down again by a crushing force to your chest, claw-like nails digging into the flesh around your collarbones. He came to loom over your form from above, leaning with one foot on the ground, the other calf bent at the knee and resting weight onto the mattress.

“Your ingratitude is boundless, isn't it?” He remained perfectly still, looming over you even as you began to writhe. “To think, I could have killed you. There is no reason you shouldn't have met the same fate as every other—" his grip tightened, enunciating the next word in a sudden increase in irritation to his voice, betraying the faux pleasantness up until that moment, "foolish little pest that thought to challenge something so far greater than yourself."

Your eyes nearly squeezed shut with the strain of your struggling. The words made your lip tremble, your eyes burn. Every time the memory was invoked, you felt so utterly stupid, shameful over your own naivete.

You grabbed at the hand on your chest, and pulled with every ounce of strength you could summon, the full and utmost entirety of your strength.

It didn't even seem to be noticed, much less affect him in any way. The hand did not budge, nor did his face show any sign of strain, no indication that your full strength took even a modicum of effort to restrain.

"But I had favor on you," he continued, voice returning to a quiet coldness, "and took you to be my own." His other hand reached back up to your face, gripping your jaw with force and acute pressure as each nail dug into the soft flesh. “I chose…” his voice lowered to a murmur, “…to allow you to live…” he pushed your head back, “…under very, very simple conditions.”

Your body trembled beyond your control. He watched you struggle, golden eyes half-lidded and cold, lacking any sign of empathy. You felt a surge of dread spike in your chest as the nails dug into your flesh, just shy of piercing the skin. After a moment, he finished,

“...Do you recall what those conditions were?”

Your lip trembled. The last remnants of pride you possessed fought against breaking down.

Yes, you recalled perfectly. You had so quickly rushed to agree to comply, out of pure, pathetic cowardice at the terror of the moment, in a desperate attempt to have your life spared.

The way it was brought up felt so, so shameful. Yes, you really would prefer outright cruelty to this. It was, at least, more transparent, more direct.

The way of speech he possessed was somehow far more soul-crushing. Such a calm, low voice, and yet tinged with an unmistakeable condescension. But the tension in it had slowly increased with each word, like an ominous, vague shadow growing closer and closer.

Each beat of your heart sent a heavy pulse through your head, you could feel the blood as it circulated around your temple and back into your throat, over and over. Your body felt so cold.

You forced the words out, voice hoarse.

“To… to remain here in this... this realm…”

He didn't hesitate to press further. “And?”

“And… and…” you swallowed. Your voice began to tremble, audibly on the verge of tears. “To… to obey your... every word."

"...That's correct." His voice was still so calm, low and rumbling. As if it were a regular conversation, as if he wasn't holding you down. Nonetheless ever laced with that sense of condescension, belittlement in the pretense of the feigned pleasantness. "Now... I could be remembering incorrectly," his thumb rubbed in a back-and-forth motion against your chin, "but I believe that I very specifically instructed you to wait in this room."

You felt sick. You bit down on your lip, inhaling as deeply as you could to fight a sense of nausea.

"...Am I mistaken?"

You shook your head back and forth rapidly. Your eyes squeezed shut, tears collecting and pooling around your eyelashes. Your voice came out strained and cracking. "No..."

It was the best reply you could give. A lose-lose situation, where any answer you could muster was a bad one, yet the honest answer was, at least, hopefully the lesser of the possible offenses.

And with that answer, finally, that slowly-increasing tension, the underlying malice, reached its peak. As if that shadow caught up to you, the pretense of calmness and faux-gentleness dissipated. You saw his eyes narrow further. The hand on your chest moved upward. Your heart skipped a beat, a chill pulsated through your blood, but you had no time to react.

"Enlighten me, then. Why, exactly..."

His palm slammed down onto your throat. Your eyes went wide with panic, your hands reached to grasp at his arm.

He spoke the next words with gritted teeth, voice still low in volume, but now with an unmistakeable rumbling harshness to his voice.

"...Did I find you where you were?"

Your initial instinct, without conscious thought, was to struggle, back arching as your body lurched against the hold. It only caused you greater pain, pressure digging into your throat. You took a gasp to the best of your ability.

If you had thought it through, perhaps it would have been evident that what you said next was a poor choice, but much like your writhing, in your panic, your first instinct was to placate and defend yourself.

"I wasn't doing anything bad, I just—"

You cut off with hitched breath as his fingers curled into your neck, sharpness nearly piercing your flesh.

"Do not lie to me."

Your lip trembled. You swallowed to the best of your ability.

"I'm sorry..."

The grip tightened, cutting off your airways nearly entirely.

"It was a question. Answer."

Of course, he already knew. You knew that, and he knew that you knew. It didn't need to be said. It was not so much a question as it was a command -- not merely to "answer," but to admit, to confess. And that was, realistically, the only valid option you had.

"Because I... I wanted to..." You took as deep of a breath as you could, swallowing, shuddering on the exhale. "I..."

You went quiet for a moment. You took rapid, shallow breaths, mouth opening and closing as you struggled to speak.

"You...?"

It was mocking, but frustrated tone in his voice, clearly growing impatient. He seemed to, at least, realize you were struggling to speak, and thus the crushing force to your throat loosened.

Your fingers curled against the sheets as bitterness swelled in your chest once more at the insult inherent to how he spoke to you, the audacity to express impatience when he was the very reason you struggled to speak. The push and pull of fear and anger often wavered back and forth, one overtaking the other for a moment. Each was reactionary, the emotion that won over at a given moment for a given response each dependent on what was said or done to you. The anger had been building, pressurizing, but finally burst as it did — anger was always the emotion that would come out in one sudden, explosive moment, only to retreat as soon as the fear always won back over. You knew that, and could have predicted the cyclic movement of the two, but in the moment, it won out nonetheless. You had intended to finish with saying you wanted to run, or perhaps a more dishonest answer, but a more spiteful sentiment overcame you.

"Because I wanted to!"

Taking advantage of the sudden absence of pressure, you lurched upward to the best of your ability. His hand still caught your movement halfway, forcefully grasping your shoulder, but you curled yourself upward to come closer to his level, almost halfway sitting up, propping your weight on one of your hands outstretched behind you, the other you reached out and, to draw him closer as well as keep you from being pushed downward, actually lashed out and tightly locked your grip around one of the horns at the base of his skull. Your body trembled, this time in a deep, furious rage, as you took more heaving breaths. Your nose scrunched up with your expression of fury.

"I can do what I want! You don't own me, and I don't have to do a goddamn thing you say, you—!"

You cut off.

Rather, you couldn't speak another word. It felt as if you were choking, even with the absence of a weight on your throat.

Once more, a reactionary compulsion. Those spiteful outbursts were always so brief, so easily shut down, any prideful spirit crushed without effort by the factor of sheer intimidation.

In that moment, it was the look on his face. The eyes went half-lidded, expression blank, not outwardly, visually angry, but displeased, unamused. Much like with everything else, it was far more terrifying to you than any outward anger you'd expect from anyone else.

Silence fell over the room, only the faintest sound as he drummed his fingers on the other hands against the sheets, a sedentary stimulus.

"...Go on."

The simple phrase was ominous, foreboding in its cold, low tone.

You clamped your jaw down, shoulders bunching up as you released your grip and shrunk back, back hitting the headrest of the bed. Your throat felt tight, as if blocked, obstructed. Your toes and fingers curled in a fearful instinct.

"...N-no, I didn't..."

"No." He reached out and took your face in his hand, thumb digging into one side, fingers into the other. "You were going to say something else?"

You tried to shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. "No, I wasn't — I didn't mean that, I didn't—mm!"

You whimpered as your midriff was pulled forward, and head downward, effectively pushing you back down onto your back. There was a sharp pain as one of the claw-like nails just barely pierced a layer of flesh from the force, not enough to bleed, but enough to feel the distinct sting, the sort of cut that would leave a raised-up, reddened line down your skin for some time to come.

Your chest rapidly heaved up and down with panicked breaths. Your eyes blew wide, staring upwards into those that looked down at you with an intimidating darkness. Your hands lifted upward, as if to push him back, but merely rested in front of you, fingers curled and trembling, uncertain and hesitantly refraining.

"In that case," he rested one hand on your shoulder to hold you down, "I will extend you significant grace," the grip tightened on the enunciated word, just enough for you to feel it, "and allow you to start over. Try once more."

His other hand reached for your throat once more and pressed down. A sharp inhale of surprise proved you could still breathe, albeit greatly restricted, as if sucking in air through a straw.

It was at that moment, though, that the worst possible thought came to you. It hadn't occurred to you until that moment, but at the reminder he gave about how your situation came to be to begin with, the thought did flash through your mind, the worst possible consequence. That created an entirely new degree of fear. Your whole body seemed to sink into the mattress.

Your mouth opened, but you had to squeeze your eyes shut to manage to get the words out.

"I was... trying to..." Your voice lowered to a quiet whimper, a natural desire for avoidance. "Run away..."

Your chest convulsed, but you could only inhale a small amount of air with each breath. You began to feel lightheaded. Only pure fear and uncertainty kept you conscious.

But with that increased fear, any room for dignity was long since gone. Tears pooled in your eyes and streamed down your face. Your voice came out in a pathetic, miserable, pitiful whimper.

"Don't... don't kill me... please..."

It was not the first time those words had left your mouth. Perhaps there was even a comedic, ironic factor to the similarity, the repetition of the words parallel to the repetition of the scenario you found yourself in.

Yes, it was very much like this. His hand had been on your throat then, too. You recalled it perfectly. Defeated and battered, literally crawling on your knees before you were lifted up by the neck and slammed into the wall. You recalled the way your body tensed as the cold tip of the spear pressed to your chest right below the breast where your heart rested, just enough pressure to break the skin, the way a slow trickle of blood had trailed down your side. Tears and snot had run down your face, your breathing was rapid, heaving gasps, your legs had pathetically kicked and flailed, your hands had clawed at the grip.

You were not told outright that you would live, no. In hindsight, that had probably already been determined, but you weren't told so. There had been the same suspense, making you wait, enjoying putting you in abject terror as your life flashed before your eyes.

Perhaps it was because you had been cocky, overly confident in your capacities, that that torment was extended. For someone who took such gleeful thrill in conquering, it made sense to relish in the way you begged and struggled. It was the same words. Very basic ones, of course, standard, probably what any conqueror of such prowess had heard a hundred times.

Don't kill me, please don't kill me...

Likewise, you could still hear the mocking tone to his voice, see the gleam in his eyes.

You're right. It would be such a waste to kill you when you can be put to good use, don't you think?

And he had given you that same smile. The same one you received whenever you cried, whenever you were blubbering out apologies for some misdeed. Whenever you begged for anything, whenever you shivered and cowered and curled up into him for warmth or comfort. Whenever you succumbed to pleasure forced upon you, melted into a drooling, twitching, barely-responsive mess. Seemingly soft and mild, but the longer you looked, the more and more apparent became the undertone of sadistic pleasure.

The same one you recognized now, as you dared open your eyes, even through the blur of your tears.

It was always the same. Even in the softest and most gentle of moments, there was still that same gleam to his eyes.

"You want to be forgiven, then?"

You sniffled. "Yes..."

Another pause. Drawing the moment out. Making you feel every second of anticipation.

"Mm."

His hand detached from your throat. You took a deep, gasping breath.

But just as you began to recover, he took a fistful of the robe around you, pulling you up from the bed, setting you down — not letting you fall, but taking care to actually set you on the ground — onto your knees. He sat back down on the bed, sideways so that he faced your crumpled form, feet on the ground.

"I'm sure you know, forgiveness is not automatically granted... it is earned." He grabbed your jaw once more, forcing you to look up at him. "Do you understand?"

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut, sniffling. The soft "mhm" that came out of your throat sounded utterly pitiful.

"Good." He reached down to cup your face, tilting your head to face him, causing your eyes to open on reflex. Just enough to see the amused smirk on his face as he spoke. "Then show me how you intend to earn forgiveness from your God."

It hurt. It hurt in your stomach, your chest. A type of pain so different from the scratches and bruises, an unphysical, deeper pain, an emotion so strong you could feel it in your skin and bones.

But you crawled forward on your knees nonetheless.

"Yes... Master..."

A routine you could move through almost mechanically, although this was the first time you'd performed it so desperately, not to mention the added difficulty of your shaking hands. Leaning your body forward, grasping at buttons to unfasten. You inhaled sharply when one of the cocks hit the side of your face as it sprung from the restraint of clothing.

Your breathing was still heavy and rapid from the adrenaline. You took just a moment to take a few shallow breaths, but otherwise didn't hesitate to shove it into your mouth, desperate to placate and do what you could to lessen your Master's fury.

It was like some sort of divine torment from Celestia itself that you had to deal with something... you supposed the best word would be reptilian, in the anatomical realm. Your body was fully humanoid, mating organs designed to align to an equally fully humanoid body of the opposing sex. You didn't even know draconic creatures possessed two cocks, and each of nonhuman size at that, until you were firsthand forced to become aware of that information, via being doubly impaled unexpectedly. There was some control over the degree of form such beings as him took, varying transformative levels that could be achieved at will, and you were sure it was entirely possible to maintain the fortunate human trait of having only one -- but that was a luxury you were not granted.

You took a gasp for breath as your mouth detached with a popping sound, turning your head and immediately taking the other into your mouth, reaching to work the first with your hand, aided by the residual lubrication of your own saliva, and the existing layer of... whatever it was, some sort of mucin-like lubrication that coated them already. Your hand couldn't fully wrap around it, couldn't close so that your fingers would have touched, instead trying to twist your wrist as you moved your hand up and down.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to force it further into your mouth, but your body stiffened as it triggered your gag reflex when it hit the back of your throat, not even half of it in your mouth. You tried to inhale as much air as you could through your nostrils, summoning the mental willpower to try and force it past the barrier of your throat.

You must have hesitated too long, though, or perhaps your effort was merely too poor to be sufficient. Your eyes snapped open when you felt a hand on the back of your head, but you could only let out a soft sound before your head was shoved downward.

Your stomach retched in involuntary reflex, abdominal muscles spasming as you tried to adjust. Your eyes watered once more, blurring your vision. Another hand latched to the back of your head, and pulled your head back before shoving it back down again. Over and over. It took all your focus and willpower to prevent yourself from getting sick, although you still managed to make some sort of sucking motion with your mouth, more out of mechanical instinct than active effort.

And it was painful, it was sore, from having had the same thing done shortly before. Like a wound being reopened over and over, there was never enough time between occurrences for you to heal from the bruises and scratches and stretched muscles of the former occurrence before it repeated.

After a moment, your head was pulled back all the way, a popping sound as your mouth detached. You took heaving, ragged breaths, desperately trying to suck in air before your head was guided to the side and the action repeated on the other, jerking your head up and down again, filling your throat to the point of a burning pain as it stretched. You could physically feel it stretching the walls of your throat, in and out, over and over. You began to feel lightheaded as you failed to sufficiently inhale through your nostrils.

"...Now—"

Your head was pulled off with harsh force. You took a long, heaving gasp for air, but within the same moment, you were jerked back upwards.

The movement was so fast and forceful that you were too disoriented to even process it. Your balance teetered, your stumbled as your arms were each held, fabric pulled off, stripping you down, before slamming your body back down onto the bed face-down. Prodding your legs with a gentle kick forced them wide apart to balance yourself, his hand pressed down on your back just below the neck, so that the soft whimpering sounds you made were muffled by the sheets. You grimaced as the nails dragged a short ways down your spine.

You grimaced, face contorting with the sting as you felt something prodding against the already raw flesh of the entrance of each orifice. "Wait, wait, I'm not—AH!"

Despite everything else being so prolonged and dragged out, this time, you were not granted a single second of hesitation or anticipation, no doubt intentional, so that you had no opportunity to mentally prepare yourself, so that the disorientation made the feeling of impalement come as a sudden shock.

You were unable to suppress a squeal as they both slid into your body at once, one into your cunt, the other into your ass, stretching already sore and spent muscles and pressing against bruised flesh, albeit the latter more innately discomforting and foreign, the stretching sensation far more intense. The sheer stretch of the size would have been painful even if your insides weren't already hypersensitive and rubbed raw. Your legs spasmed, kicking as a reflexive instinct, leaning your full weight forward.

You took rapid heaving, gasping breaths, trying to turn your head to the side so that your breathing wasn't inhibited and suffocated by your face pressed downward into the mattress. The noise that came out of your throat was strained and miserable, a long, high-pitched cry.

As another natural reflex, your body's first instinct was to get away, to remove the intrusion penetrating your insides. Your back arched downward in an attempt to pull yourself off, desperately clawing at the sheets, but you were grabbed at the hip and pulled back with force, sheathing fully inside you.

It felt full. Like your body was stuffed beyond its capacity, that there was too much within it. Intrusive, setting off some innate sense of alarm triggered by forcing something into your body of a size that it wasn't designed for; even for just the cock stuffed into your quim, the object itself registered as something foreign rather than a natural process of all living beings. The muscles reflexively clenched down and spasmed. Your breathing had just barely begun to slow as your body adjusted, before you stiffened at the friction against your insides as the intrusion pulled back, sliding out of your body.

You struggled to form words coherently. "Wait, wait—"

And squealed, a high-pitched cry, when his hips slammed forward again, driving back into your body once more. The movement felt as if it sent a shockwave running up your spine, from the point of collision to your insides.

His fingernails dug into your hips. The sharp ends broke the skin.

Again, and again. The friction burned, but the most intense sensation was the fullness and the impact — pain and soreness, but also unmistakable, unavoidable, natural pleasure that sparked with each movement as it rubbed against some specific spot inside. Your legs trembled from the intensity of the sensation, your mouth hung open, both drawing in gasping breaths, and spilling saliva out of your mouth, dribbling off your chin onto the sheets.

You had almost begun to melt into the pleasure when a harsh smack made you jolt. The sound bounced off the walls, the pain was a harsh sting where the palm of his hand had met the soft flesh where your backside and hip met. Your body lurched forward again, but was once more harshly pulled back to impale you again.

You made a pained sound, teeth grinding. "Ah, mmn— I'm sorry, I'm so—"

Another jolt of pain, leaving a hot sting against the flesh. You whimpered.

A third. A fourth. A fifth. It hurt. You squealed and cried out, struggling to form borderline incoherent begging. It did not help that the flesh of your ass was already so raw from similar previous corporeal punishments, for a range of offenses so broad and the offenses themselves so numerous you couldn't recall them all. Each inhale you took in had a coarse, ragged sound to it, as if choking on air. You sputtered out pleas and apologies, before your shoulder was grasped and pulled you upward, so that your knees rested on the mattress, and your torso was almost upright, slightly leaning forward. The thrusts to your insides slowed, more so grinding into your body, but did not cease.

"I still have difficulty believing you understand the severity of your offense."

"I do!" Your voice cracked as you spoke. You could hear how pathetic your own pleading voice sounded. "I really do, I promise, I'm sorry!"

There was a sigh, you could feel the fall of his chest against your back.

"You are so very fortunate," he continued. "You're taken care of to the utmost, you're given the highest standard of life one can have..."

"I know! I know, I, I am, I-I'm grateful—"

You cut off in a squeal with a harsher thrust, nails scraping down your hip so forcefully your face contorted with pain.

"You expect me to believe that, when you were preparing to throw aside everything I've given you?"

"I..."

You didn't have an excuse, and in your current state of mind, overwhelmed by pain and pleasure and fear and anger, there was no way you could summon such complex thought as to come up with one. Your brain could only come up with the automated, mechanical responses, the rehearsed phrases and words you were supposed to give, that you were trained and conditioned to give over the course of time -- I'm sorry, please forgive me, I won't do it again, so on and so on.

Thus, unable to come up with anything better, you merely hung your head, shoulders shaking with sobs as you gave the only answer you could think of.

"I'm sorry..."

He sighed again. "That's the best answer you can give, then?"

But after a pause, he added, with a smirk you could hear in his voice even if you couldn't see it,

"Or are you just too overwhelmed to think straight?"

You only whimpered. It was too much. The fullness, the soreness, the sparks of pleasure, it all was too much put together, overloading your brain. You shook your head, not so much in a negatory response to the question as it was just an expression of your desperation and clouded mind.

You grunted in surprise as you were lifted by an arm around your waist, coming to be set down so the balls of your feet touched the ground — although they shook so badly they were virtually useless, the vast majority of your weight supported by his arms. Your body was bent forward at the waist, one arm around it to support you, the other coming to grasp at your throat, essentially holding you up. Another thrust made you squeal again, feet stumbling against the ground.

Even in your overwhelmed state, the realization felt like a punch to the stomach.

It was no coincidence, no mistake, that you were positioned this way. Bitter, helpless fury swelled in your chest.

The exact same position you'd been held in that first time, squealing and crying and cursing as you were relentlessly fucked out in the open, before a multitude of your own subjects and other deities caught up in the combat.

It was true, as he'd said, that you had made a mistake that cost you. The other gods that you'd faced were, by comparison, so utterly weak, even non-combative deity a like yourself had managed to fend them off. You had known stronger gods existed, but the degree was such that it was beyond your ability to fathom, a level of strength far beyond what you ever would have imagined until you came to know it firsthand.

Thus, when the draconic god had approached you, you didn't feel threatened. In fact, you had felt insulted when he had given you a choice. That you could be spared from death by agreeing to relinquish your rule, and submitting to subjugation without resistance. And that otherwise, you could die fighting.

That was the first time you recalled that smile. You didn't even remember exactly what you said, but you hadn't even hesitated. Something to the effect that you would kill him, take him down, something of that nature.

That same grin, a soft chuckle. But lacking in excitement. Not the way one would laugh and grin before facing an opponent that would still be a thrill to fight. Instead, amused, as if finding it cute.

Is that so?

Even back then, the tone, the notion that you weren't even being treated as a worthy opponent, that he wasn't even worried, had enraged you, and in foolishness, you had rushed right into conflict.

It had lasted less than a single minute. To even call it a fight was not entirely reasonable; it was more you being slung around like a ragdoll across the near vicinity, over and over until you were beaten down to the point of immobility. A matter of seconds, before you were caught crawling, pressed up against that wall. And after your begging, after your pleading, you'd found yourself just like this.

The balls of your feet barely touching the ground, weight held up almost entirely by the hand on your jaw and the arm latched around your waist, desperately clawing at the former out of pure instinct with one hand, the other helplessly reaching behind you and pawing at the hips that slammed into yours, pushing back as if it would do any good, as if your weak pressing would actually stop the movement. Body weight tilted forward, knowing that you'd fall flat if he were to let go, only serving to further the feeling of panic.

At least now, there wasn't an audience gawking at the sight, but the degradation burned in your chest all the same.

It must look so miserable, so pathetic. If you had maintained your resilience and pride — then, and now — you would have stayed still. If you could endure it with a straight face, without making a sound, without struggling, that would have been a powerful move to play, would have wounded your tormentor's own pride, a metaphorical spitting back in his face. That should have been what you had done.

But you were weak.  You squealed and flailed. Obscene sounds came out of your mouth, lewd and pained at the same time. Tears streamed down your face.

You did struggle, but to no avail. Writhing, kicking, flailing with every ounce of strength you could muster did nothing, the movements continued as if you were perfectly still.

The absolute utmost of your strength was nothing.

It was a feeling of complete and utter helplessness, futility, weakness, unlike anything else you'd ever known in the span of your lengthy existence.

And you knew you would never be able to exact revenge, would never be able to satisfy the anger. You could never exert it, release it, feel the relief of catharsis that came with finding a way to exert the negative emotion.

Beings such as yourself lived indefinitely. If you had been human, you might have been able to longingly wait for the day that death could relieve you of your humiliation and bitter anger.

But with power came responsibility, and with allowances came restrictions. That escape was a mercy you were not allowed, nor would he ever allow any circumstances under which you could do so yourself. A bedroom ceiling far too high to even reach, a mirror unbreakable — you had tried — and never given anything you could turn on yourself.

The hopelessness was crushing.

You stumbled over your loose footing, a few rapid steps to rebalance what little of your weight rested on the ground. Perhaps having had the thought to do so from that, the hand around your waist reached downward, hooking an arm under your knee and lifting up, so that your thigh nearly touched your chest, only a small portion of your weight left on the ball of the other foot on the ground. With that, each thrust went deeper into your body, you gasped and cried out at the impact.

As you adjusted, you let your head fall, hanging down limply. It was all too much, too overwhelming. The pleasure and pain receptors of your mind were overloaded, your thoughts began to grow hazy and dull, a sort of blankness that consumed any coherent or complex thought. The pleasure and pain was all there was, the only thing you could process besides the high-pitched cries from your mouth and the distinct sound of wet skin slapping on skin each time his hips met your backside.

His arm tightened onto your waist, and for a brief moment, you were lifted up into the air, whimpering as you were shifted over just a single step or so, not removing himself from you in doing so. The movements started up once more within a second, albeit slower, drawn out, and your body held more upright. You caught an object out of the corner of your eye, and automatically squeezed your eyes shut, turned your head away in a desperate attempt to avoid it.

You could feel his breath against your ear.

"Look at you."

You squeezed your eyes shut harder, rapidly shaking your head. You didn't want to.

But as his hand gripped your jaw once more, this time directly digging the sharp claws into your skin, your eyes opened on reflex at the pain, and you were met face-to-face with your own reflection once more. And once your gaze locked on, despite initial avoidance, you felt as if you couldn't look away.

You were disheveled, limp-looking, as if an inanimate object, dead weight barely kept in balance.

You could physically see his cock inside your body, a bulging shape in your abdomen that looked unnatural, almost grotesque. The flesh around your eyes was swollen and darkened. The scratches visible on your side and hip were irritated, reddened and swelling, but the cuts were shallow, and only in one particular scratch, just a bit deeper than the others, did the tiniest trickle of blood slowly ooze out.

Looking at your face, though, was the worst of it, made that same burning, all too familiar of a feeling, begin to swell. Saliva trailed out of both sides of your mouth, tears and snot ran down your face. Your eyes themselves were irritated and reddened, more tears accumulating, giving your eyes a glassy appearance that reflected what little light poured in.

You stared directly into the reflection. The hand on your jaw, the dullness to your eyes. The way your hands weakly clawed at the arm on your waist. The way even now, albeit merely grinding, the bulge in your stomach shifted, and you could just see, from your angle, where the smallest sliver of the base of his cock was the only remaining length not buried deep inside.

It all seemed to culminate. A knot in your stomach, a weight on your chest. Your lower lip trembled. You felt your body shiver, limbs trembling, as more, heavier tears ran down your face.

His voice was low and quiet, but so unnervingly deep as it was, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.

"Do you understand?"

It was not preceded with a statement of what, exactly, was to be understood. Yet, you did understand nonetheless.

There were many ways to have put into words what that which you understood was. A few different details of things he may have meant. Maybe telling you something about you, something about him, something about the past or the future or the nature of things itself.

Perhaps that was, rather, exactly why he didn't say anything more — because there was no singular, exact statement to be understood. Many, many things that could be said, many aspects and demonstrations of the same concept, merely worded in different ways, but all ultimately the very same.

Any of those things that could be said, all amounted to the same, basic thing: a statement of order. A superior and an inferior, a better and a lesser. Each one true to its place in a million demonstrable ways.

And that, you did, in fact, understand. Even if you wished you didn't have to, wished you could be ignorant to it, and live without the unending, crushing weight of what you knew your place was.

You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded your head, sniffling. "Mm-hnn..."

There was a moment of pause before you heard a response.

"...Very good."

You inhaled a sharp gasp and let out a soft cry as sharper, faster, rougher thrusts resumed, reigniting both the burn and pleasure sensations deep inside your body as it was bent forward once more. You bit your lips between your teeth in an effort to muffle the sounds you made, but this was quickly noticed, and the way his nails dug into your jaw was a command in and of itself, even if you didn't automatically gasp from the pain. With that moment of opportunity, his thumb slid into your mouth, pressing onto your tongue and effectively holding your mouth open.

"Ahh, ah— hah—"

The wanton noises, thus, came without much restraint, albeit muffled and distorted as you tried to form syllables over the protrusion in your mouth, holding down your tongue. You had no resistance left in your body. You merely clung to his arms, one hand planted on each, weak and barely even noticed, not in any way inhibiting him from moving them.

The noises increased in pitch as his other hand reached up from its place on your waist, pinching and rubbing at one nipple, then another, keeping the forearm itself firmly pressed to your abdomen to support your weight.

"Don't take your eyes off yourself."

You had shut your eyes out of the pure intense sensation, but forced them open again. Forced yourself to look into your own eyes, to see your body bent and fucked and claimed. Even the blur of tears didn't mask the miserable shame of your expression — nor the lustful dilation of your pupils, eyes half-lidded and filled with an empty haze of pleasure.

You felt warmer and warmer, a distinct pressure, tingling sensation inside. Your breaths became heavier, louder, faster, your body began to shiver intensely, and your legs squirmed and twitched.

"Not yet."

You let out a long whimper in response, desperate and needy, only to cut off in a gasp as he grabbed your jaw again, forcing your eyes directly forward. This time, your gaze focused on his own reflection — your stomach twisted at that same damned, loathsome grin.

"What do you say?"

But your fury was weakened and exhausted, your spirit beaten and broken. You put up no resistance.

"I'm sorry, M-Master..."

It was bitter on your tongue, like poison in your throat. You hesitated, not wanting to finish the plea out of pure shame, but the physical sensation was quickly becoming overwhelming. The wet, squelching, smacking sound of skin on skin reverberated in your ears, a lewd sound that only triggered further innate senses of pleasure.

"P-please let me... let me cum..." Your head hung downward, your expression contorted with strain. "Please..."

"Don't look away. Look at yourself when you beg."

The command was firm and cold. You bit your lip, but slowly rose your head, forcing yourself to endure the humiliation of the act demanded of you, watching your mouth move with your words.

"Please... let me cum..."

Your lower lip trembled, your eyes stung. The shame of the words felt like a knot in your stomach. You watched as your body moved back and forth with the force of the thrusts, taking in the pleasure-hazed stupor evident on your own face. The warm pressure was unbearable, taking all your willpower to prevent climax.

"Mm." He pulled your torso back from your position where you'd been bent forward at the waist, leaning forward to meet in the middle, so that he could speak directly into your ear. In that moment, you felt him smile, felt his mouth against the side of your face.

"Cum for your God."

The high was an intense one, a euphoria surging through your body from the inside. You gasped for breath. Your insides clenched hard, a reflex that, had you been able to control it, you would have prevented, given the sheer size you clamped down on was such that the muscles strained painfully with the act.

The sound from your mouth was not quite suiting of the word 'erotic' — it was obscene, uncontrolled and unrestrained, high in pitch and accompanied by such trembling and strong involuntary spasming that your feet completely gave way, unable to even stand, held up entirely by an arm that caught what would have been your fall. Your eyes rolled back, and saliva practically poured out of your mouth as your head tilted forward, riding out the high until it was over.

There was not anything to take in with your senses, or any thoughts to be had, mind gone blank, a sort of fog of nothingness. The room seemed to spin. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, head limply hanging downward. Your eyelids felt heavy, slowly closing. Even if something had been said to you, you wouldn't have even heard it. Weight suspended, it felt as if you were floating in the air.

After a duration of time you could not be quite certain of, the high began to dissipate, the adrenaline and dopamine slowly ebbing away.

In their absence, pain began to bloom across your body. The sting from the friction at the entrances of your holes, already so sore beforehand, now burned like fire. Your insides radiated a throbbing, dull pain, battered as if having endured a beating from the inside.

You gasped as the fullness suddenly disappeared, sliding out of your body with a wet, squelching sound. That feeling was always one of the most unpleasant parts of the experience — a hollowed-out feeling, insides clamping down on nothing, spasming and twitching as the muscles began to readjust. A mix of viscous fluids oozed out of each orifice and began to trail down your thighs. Both discomforting, grotesque sensations that made your muscles tense, that made you shudder as you exhaled, only to inhale another sharp breath as a finger trailed up your inner thigh, collecting the semen that ran down your skin before stuffing it back inside of you.

Your feet touched the ground once more, but your legs trembled in exhaustion and aftershock, a violent shivering far more noticeable than that induced by emotion. As the support around you disappeared, you stumbled forward, legs giving out beneath you and folding as you crumpled to the floor, catching yourself on your hands.

"Ah, you poor thing..."

Spoken as if he was not the one to inflict the state upon you, spoken with affectionate, endeared pity. A hand rested atop your head. You were nothing more than a pitiful little creature, in tears over a bit of pain.

You didn't make any move to swat it away, though. Your arms felt as if they were made of stone, heavily weighing down from your shoulders. Your shoulders heaved with each heavy, deep breath you took. All you could manage was to let out a low, quiet whimper.

There was a moment of pause before he stooped down, wrapping arms around your body, lifting you up and setting you down on your bed, sitting upright, albeit slouching forward as soon as you were let go of.

He gave a heavy sigh.

"So fragile... you can't handle anything further. It will have to wait."

Even in your stupor, the statement registered with a vague, distant sense of alarm. You tilted your head back up to him, making a soft little sound, inquisitive and confused.

He titled his head, eyebrows raising with a look of vague surprise.

"...Surely you did not think that was a punishment?"

You didn't respond for several moments. You stared straight forward at him, blinking, slack-jawed and limp. Your eye twitched. Your voice came out small and soft.

"...Wh... What...?"

"...That was..." his hand grasped at your chin and tilted your head upwards. "Merely reconciliation." He smiled, speaking every so casually, but not without that detectable tinge of mirth. "I've done nothing to punish you yet."

Your body twitched all over as you began to curl into yourself, shrinking back with wide eyes. You felt cold all over. You couldn't determine if it was from the sweat on your body, or going into a dreadful shock.

"But that being said," he added, "as I just said, you may lose consciousness if carried out now, and that is obviously unideal. It will have to wait."

Your lip trembled as you tried to speak.

"But I..."

You grimaced at the dry soreness of your throat, that much more noticeable now that the adrenaline was wearing off. It did not go unnoticed.

"...Ah. Don't worry, there's water nearby." He stood back upright. "It's close enough, there's no need to bother some servant with something so trivial. I'll get it for you myself, just one moment."

He spared no hesitation to walk over to the door once more. But then, he stopped.

"...I'd like to imagine it doesn't need to be said, but..."

He turned his head back towards you. A pleasant facial expression and voice, but a clear, subtle threat to his words.

"...you will not leave this room in the meantime."

You stared blankly forward for a moment, only hesitating over the near-comedic value of the statement, almost laughable in the most bitter of ways. You slowly nodded.

"Y-yes..."

He merely gave you a hum of acknowledgement, and stepped through the door.

The door closed. You were left sitting still, staring blankly ahead at nothing. Your limbs, eyes, and body still gave the occasional twitch. A bead of residual sweat trailed down your temple, making the faintest of sounds as it hit the sheets. The whole area between your legs gave you a discomforting, gross wet sensation, fluids drooling out of your holes. But in the moment, you couldn't bring yourself to so much as lift a hand to do anything about it, merely sat still and wallowed in the sensation.

You turned your head to the side, only to catch the image of yourself in the mirror once again. Your dull eyes, their emptiness visible even to themselves as they stared back and forth at each other in the reflection.

But after a few moments, you let yourself fall flat on your back onto the mattress, limp and numb, and closed your eyes. You laid still and silent in a half-conscious state, exhaustion and the deep ache across your body pulling you in and out of the brink of sleep.

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

[pianocat939]

Yan Donnie: the chemical formula for love is C8H11NO2+C10H12N20+C43H66N12O12S2 dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin. It can be easily manufactured in a lab, but overdosing on any of them can cause schizophrenia, extreme paranoia, and insanity.

Mikey taking notes

Raph being completely lost

Leo nodding pretending he understands (he doesn’t)

Darling noting to never accept anything given by Donnie

*Donnie just casually holding a syringe*

"Oh this is just so you can sleep better at night!"

*MC backing away quickly*

MC: "This isn't some happy cringe love story like Gnomeo and Juliet- this is homocide."

(No comment.)

[digenerate-trash]

Yandere Teachers!!! (who are also freaks) 

Sirris

Sirris is the cool teacherTM but that's only because he's hiding the fact that he's a freak from everyone. 

he's got a regular hook-up with some random once a month he pays them to film them having sex for his sex ed classes. But since he's met you he's stopped that. Now he only wants to make amateur porn with one person now and he's going to do it one way or another

Will drug you. Says it's for pain but he's just a big fan of seeing you drooling with your eyes rolled back. 

Tones of pictures. Never of your face. He doesn't want any evidence against him.

Very adamant that your relationship (if you can call it that) stays hidden. Never even touches you on school property. 

Would absolutely fist-fight Leighton in the parking lot if he found out about anything that freak does to you. 

Very adamant that you and Sydney get along. If you don't get along he's first going to try and convince Sydney to change to fit you better and if that doesn't work he's going to force you to change to get along with Sydney.

Obsessed with ass. I can't explain it. 

Very clean. 

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Mason

Mason is pretty gentle and because of that, he's not too forward with you. 

it's a lot of staring though. Like to much

At school, he's very interested in only school topics. But at the lake, he's more interested in talking to you. 

Man loves his exercise and wants you to do it too. Wants to keep you healthy. 

Mans is a big puppy. 

He will try and get his scent onto you, especially after swimming lessons. 

He refrains from touching you a lot because even the feeling of you is enough to get him going. 

Absolutely will fuck you at the lake and nowhere else. it's where he feels the most safe

Mason’s fucking is always very rough and brutal. You covered in marks bites scratches and hickeys

Will take you for coffee afterward and apologize for being too rough. He just gets carried away too easily. 

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River

Dude has no boundaries when he comes to terms that he's obsessed with you. 

He finally has the guts to get Whitney suspended when he sees the bully's hands on you. It wasn't easy but he did it. 

Still believes in using a ruler as punishment but quickly stops when you moan. 

Chasity belt chafes his dick every time it gets too close to him. 

He never wants to defile you. Wants to believe that you are a precious little virgin that has never touched anyone. 

he's happy when you show up to help at the soup kitchen. But now he has to protect you here as well. 

Will hit other staff with anything he's got close by if he catches them staring. 

No one dares hit him back when he's doing the same thing. 

Man is so pent-up. Even god is placing bets on when he's going to ditch his vow to wreck you. 

Winter 

Very old-fashioned. Wants a traditional wife/spouse to dote on and care for. Thinks you are the perfect person for that life no matter what you are actually like. 

Constantly keeping you after class. He keeps telling you that your grades are slipping no matter how hard you try you can't seem to fix it. 

Absolutely offers a “favors” for “favors” deal. 

Even if you refuse you getting bent over his desk and fucked. Dude is like a man possessed and then when he's done he kicks you out. 

This can happen several days a week he's started putting up a “back in 20” sign up when you walk in. 

Sadistic streek. 

Loves having you visit the museum. There's always something new for you to try out. 

Big bondage fan. Adores what you look like in ropes. The pillory. Ect. basically, whenever you're helpless he gets stupid hard. 

he's gonna fuck you in all of his little replica contraptions. don't fight it. 

If you do though get ready for him to literally whip you. 

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Doren (Written by @degrees-of-fuck please give them lots of love they were very nice to help me with this!!!)

Big Warped Protectiveness vibes I think, paired with a short fuse and a tendency to go a bit fuckoff wild when the line is crossed. Doren’s like this at the best of times but Yandoren is gonna need to be held back from all these assault charges calling for him.

Wants you to like and trust him!! He has your best interests at heart! He’ll keep you safe from this world! And also maybe enable you a little. I don’t think he quite consciously puts together what he’s doing when he as your teacher is positioning himself as your friendly protector who always has space for you in his home for these reasons. It’s fine when he does it because he’s not a bad person and he doesn’t want to hurt you! Not grooming, nuh-uh. Regardless, I think he’d prefer it if any involvement between the two of you had technically been your idea…

Yandoren Could maaaaaybe be tempted to spend just a little more time at home by you visiting him often enough, but I mostly imagine him coming up with excuses to invite you along to… Whatever it is he does, when it’s possible - so he doesn’t have to worry about what could be happening to you out there or about you showing up to class covered in others’ fluids again.

If yall fuckin, you NEED to be like, physically ‘on top’ or your ass is getting SMOTHERED. 

Goes the fuck off on roleplaying and dirty talk probably. Let him have his sex soliloquy he NEEDS IT. I’m not sure it can be prevented.

I have an image in my head of him doing a soliloquy that gets increasingly frantic before he just fucking goes apeshit on you. IS he a werewolf? I dunno. But it’s times like this when the rumor comes to mind.

Tight protective bear hugs, that can get GENUINELY QUITE PAINFUL depending on his mood.

I have an image of him fucking prowling the schoolyard to keep an eye on you. Freak.

This story probably ends with him getting done for assault or manslaughter ngl. Maybe you can go on the lam together. Romantic! :)))

[ctheathy]

Representative of Power

Secret History Tails x Reader

NSFW Oneshot

Author's note: I can't believe these fics are the only ones I somehow manage to finish, I swear ☠️ I'm gonna have to get my motivation going again.

Potential ⚠️ TWs⚠️ :

Both reader+character are of legal age or aged-up for obvious reasons in this post!

This is a smut fic, read at own risk. dom!Reader+sub!SH Tails • Dry humping • Use of the term ‘mommy’ but gender is not specified otherwise • Climax mentioned • Tails being vocal

Tails was so overwhelmed.

He wanted you to be proud of him. But as soon as you turned around to leave and allow him to rest? he couldn’t fight the urge anymore: He needed you. Tails didn’t even hesitate, he just lunged forward out of the bed and pushed his body up against yours, ramming your back into the nearby wall. He wanted to be closer, so much closer... He wanted to know what it felt like to be used. All the time he couldn’t talk to you, was all the time he wanted to touch you...

You couldn't help but let out a gasp as he practically launched himself at you, pinning and cornering you into a wall. But despite your shock, you managed to keep a grin on your face. You raised an eyebrow, letting out a faint laugh as you spoke out to your fox partner, putting your hands on his chest to create a little bit of distance.

“Ah... Do you need anything?”

At that moment, Tails could smell your hair. It smelled very… attractive, and familiar. The mobian’s legs went weak as he was close to you. And especially when you rubbed your thumbs on hi, Tails’ face flushed up. He felt so weak and so comfortable in your presence… As if he could literally die of happiness in your arms.

“More…”

He whispered softly, as his eyes widened while staring at you. He needed more.

“more?” You repeated in a tone of question, cocking your head to the side with your smirk expanding a little. “i'm gonna need you to elaborate, my sweet, sweet boy” Your voice rang through the room along with a snicker, directly confirming that you were playing dumb and hard to get, but you had still tried to keep it cool nonetheless. Your fingertips began teasing the fur on his chest, pressing through the coat and circling around on his hot flesh.

Tails let out a small, but loud moan of pleasure as his body was being massaged by your sneaky fingers. He was so turned on right now. And it was the most confusing sensation to him. He felt so wrong for wanting you right now, but he couldn’t even try to resist.

“More, mommy...” Tails whispered. He wanted you to know how good he felt, especially when he said “mommy.” Resulting in you letting out a little ‘hmm’ for joy, smirking to yourself as you leaned in a little. You stuck out your tongue, placing your arms around his shoulders in order to keep him in place. It was quiet other than his heavy breaths, fogging up the place as he panted like a dog.

Though without warning, you pressed your bottom onto his with how close they were, teasing him even further. “like this~?” you purred out, as you grinded your hips onto his lower half, knowing he couldn't do a damn thing about it. And as expected, he once again let out a loud moan as you grinded your body on him.

You were playing this game with him, and he didn’t want to waste any opportunity he had. And so... he grabbed your hips and pinned you down against the wall, and began moving his hips slowly and rhythmically against yours, all the while biting away at his bottom lip.

“sweetheart, you're grinding on me...” you silently muttered, your free hand traveling towards the back of his head, caressing through his fur and reaching his scalp with your fingertips. You weren't necessarily uncomfortable by this outcome, rather just... amused. You ignored the moan that left him as you looked up from your pinned position. “You're going through... it ...aren't you? Do you need some help? Or are you just gonna dry hump me?”

you questioned with a hint of sarcasm and another snicker, not minding the fox in rut. A loud moan leaving his mouth as he heard your question with the obvious taunt. Your fingernails traced across his head, teasing him in the process as you gave him the exact same cocky grin.

“I don’t need help…”

He whispered in between his moans, feeling so humiliated. You were calling him out on something he was still confused about. Your words were also so teasing and he wanted to get back at you. His eyes were locked onto yours, along with his teeth gritting. He moved his hips even faster, getting desperate with the overwhelming sparks he felt in his lower region.

Which only made you snort in response, raising an eyebrow. “oh? You're trying to tell me that you don't require some help, hmm~?” you spoke out in a tone of sass and doubt as your fingers traced all over his body, now getting him even more bothered on purpose. From his shoulders, to his back, to his chest... You were all over him. And before he knew it, you gave him one single grinding movement of your own once again, allowing the warmth of your hips to get to him. And knowing a hopeless mess like Tails would do anything for the sensation at this point.

The moment you gave him that grinding movement, Tails let out a loud and long moan of pleasure that felt so good... His eyes widened and he took a deep breath in. He then moved his hips up and down rapidly and roughly against yours, and his grunts were loud. His teeth were gritting tightly, but in between the loud grunts he was making, he managed to call out to you.

“I don’t need help…!”

However, he still was looking up at you with those desperate puppy eyes... And your smirk just grew a little at that as you backed up, shrugging before you put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him backwards. “If you say so~”

You spoke out in a careless manner, before you yanked his hands off of you. “have fun with your itty bitty problem on your own then. Since you don't need help” your words being cold yet sly, which noticeably made him let out a pathetic growl in response. It were his words, not yours. He'd have to choose between his pride or you.

Tails was so turned on right now, that for a moment he started to get angry. But he couldn’t stay angry with you for too long. He was simply… overwhelmed by his love and lust. And he also still wanted to make you proud, so he simply…

Swallows his pride.

He went to you with a more gentle approach as he laid his head on your shoulder, and spoke softly.

“I need you to help me… mommy…”

This was it. Your shit eating grin reappeared on your face but there was also a hint of softness to it. You were practically melting. You leaned in with your head to the point you were right near him. You blew into his ear and he could feel the warmth of your breath on him, along with hearing a small giggle of amusement. Your free hand went over to caress the back of his neck, moving it up and down as you looked at him with prying eyes

“aww...~ good boy~” you spoke in your best and sweetest tone yet

Tails couldn’t even take it anymore. His breathing was fast, his heart was pounding, and his face was bright red with the drool leaking down his lips. And as you spoke those sweet words to his ear, he let out a vocal whine of pleasure, with his body just collapsing on your shoulder.

He was ready to beg for more. He didn’t even care about anything anymore. The fox just wanted you... your simple grip on him making him shiver with ease, as you held onto him in order to keep him balanced. And in order to reward him, you deeply pressed your bottom onto his groin area once again, returning the sensation in one go. The heat of your body temperature from down there making it so much more difficult for him to handle. Making it even worse so when you began rubbing yourself up and down on him.

Tails began to feel a heaviness on his pelvis... And the moment he felt it, he completely lost himself, he couldn’t handle it anymore. All the priority to keep his pride in check going straight out of the window. You could notice him getting wetter and wetter as time went on, indicating that he was close... feeling his fluids going right through your clothing, along with him becoming more whiny... more needy for anything. With him becoming especially vocal by you gently trying to ease him into it.

“You're doing so well, sweetheart...~” you complimented with a grin, before you sped up the pace of grinding your crotch against his. Keeping a steady grip on him and making sure he wouldn't fall onto the floor just like that, allowing him to rest on your body. You guided his head towards your chest as you put your chin onto his head, flattening his bangs. All while continuing to thrust your hips onto him, making him completely soak.

Tails rested his imbalance on your body, his face buried in your cleavage. He couldn’t handle how soft you were, it felt so amazing... And as you started to thrust your hips onto his, his body went weak, and he just started to moan and drool. He wanted this so much… But, he was getting so close to the limit, so he was holding back as much as he could.

But you were not having that... Making him gasp out and whimper as you grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look up at you. You pressed your thumb on his chapped lips, making him let out yet another small moan.

“Shh...~ it's okay, sweetie. Will you release your tension for mommy~?” you murmured, keeping his groin pressed up against you and making him shake in his boots. Making a desperate attempt to make small rubbing motions on your body, but you sure kept him in line. And it was clear your plan was working with how moist he was getting himself, his fur now all sticky and wet...

He was so close, he couldn’t resist it anymore. He pressed his legs together as the warm feeling of you was beginning to make his body reach its peak. And he was so sensitive down there, and the wetness… Oh, God. It was so pleasureable. And just like that… he gave in.

“M…m…” He was so shy… “Mommy...” He whispered in a muffled voice, trying to hide his face in your chest. “good boy...~” you just gave him that last tiny push as you held him by his rump, before grinding him on you instead of the other way around. Pushing him against you deeply as you thrusted back in return, creating an even higher sensation than before. The two were like two connected puzzle pieces, and you knew this was really the last thing he'd need before releasing...

And as soon as you made your move, his eyes widened, and he started moaning really loud. His legs went weak, and he started kicking and trembling a little. He still tried to hold back, but, he couldn’t any longer: all his energy got drained immediately as his eyes rolled back, and he started to melt… like a mess. His fluids began to drip.

And as he did, his whole body went slack. You could literally see him go from mischievous and proud to weak and submissive. His body went all soft, and he melted all over you. The mess of fluids that dripped from the two of you was just… so perfect. He couldn’t even speak. He literally lost all of his words as he laid in shame.

Tails would do anything for you...

You gave a huge grin as he came undone and laid out like it was the end of the world. You took a tiny step back but made sure to still hold onto him so he wouldn't collapse, giving his arms a tiny squeeze. He was an absolute wreck. Tears were pouring down his face, with sweat stains visible, and drool was leaking out of the corners of his mouth. And don't even get me started on the festival down there. He looked like he just stepped out of a pond. And this only made it better for you.

Your little fingers massaged over his arms as you pampered him by giving these little kisses all over his face, seemingly not grossed out by the bodily fluids on his face. You even went out and gave him a smooch right on his mouth, allowing his leaking saliva to enter yours.

Tails was just so… humiliated. But he was so used to you having power over him in these private situations. He felt so much shame, but he felt so much love for you, simultaneously. Because you were the one who made him feel this way. And he knew he loved that. So… he was so glad that you found pleasure in his desperation. His body felt the best it ever did. He wasn’t just dripping, he was flowing. And he was completely yours... but...

You didn't seem to be done.

Right before he even got to say anything, you now pushed him against the wall instead, not allowing him the slightest bit of space. You balanced on one of your feet as you tilted up your other leg, right before pressing your knee right onto him again, almost making him choke and gasp out for air once again. Slowly beginning to give more pressure down there.

His legs immediately folded under him as you pushed your knee against his groin. Tails’ whole body went limp, his eyes rolling slightly. His eyes were locked onto your, and he could feel his mouth watering. Your grip on him increased, and he looked like you were playing with him. This time he wouldn’t be able to resist any of this… And he’d be your little pet again. This was just the beginning.

Your mouth went up to his throat as your teeth nipped him, taking his skin in between your side teeth right before letting it slip again, teasing him. Your weight leaned on him as you got into his personal space, the pressure of your knee making him feel turned on again... making him just as sensitive as before while you pressed him in between yourself and the wall, feeling his previous release drip down from your clothing.

You were so careful and gentle with both his mind and body. Tails being all wet like before, then you simply nibbling on his neck and then the heat of your body making him feel so relaxed, he felt like your own little toy. And he loved the fact that he belonged to you. The amount of pleasure he could feel… was unmatched. His hips began to move ever so slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by you.

The fact that he was trying to grind himself against you again was honestly one of the most pathetic sights you've ever witnessed, but you didn't mind. In fact, you were willing to give him a little gift for being so good before. You stood on your tippy toes and went over towards his ear, your breath audible to his senses making his twitch. You gave him one single grinding movement before stopping and whispering something in his ear..

“Go all out with your rut, my little beast~ I'm all yours~” you purred with a chuckle, giving him permission to what he wanted as you began biting at his left ear. You were still gonna take the lead, but you wanted to see just how much he'd do when given the chance to. How much control he'd lose over himself...

Just the feeling of permission from you was so strong for Tails. The moment you blew your breath against his ear, he couldn’t help but moan a little. And that was when he truly started to turn savage with his movements. His body became aggressive and animalistic. He started to moan and pant and he started to thrust rapidly and rough against you. This wasn’t just about him anymore though… It was about him and you. And you held complete control.

You had never heard the boy so vocal before, but you found amusement in how he was practically behaving like a wild animal for you. The mobian had no filter left anymore. Despite your silence in the duration of the act, the desperation on his face and the inhuman noises he was releasing made it much more enjoyable than you thought it would.

You both knew you were absolutely dominating over him the whole time he was going crazy on you, but the feelings he felt… were completely mutual. But at this point, his need to give you the satisfaction felt so strong that he was just giving into you completely. Tails started to cry out loudly with tears running down his face, and not caring that this made it even more arousing for you. He wanted to do everything for you.

And he was basically a vivid representation for your power over him.

[temmtamm]

'Best Friend.'

(Yan! Secret History Tails x Reader)

Note: Been obsessing over this little fucker so decided to write this down for fun. If you enjoy this, feel free to blow up my ask box as I would gladly write more for this stinkalink.

Word count: 4,593

Tw: Death, violence, worship, threats, attempted murder, and yandere behavior

(Y/N) never wanted to get wrapped up into all this, all they really wanted to do was just help an acquaintance in need, they never planned or even thought that the action could have any consequences, much less ones to this severity. Even now, with slick scarlet staining at their hands, they still are in shock, thinking it all must've been some crazy type of dream, but they knew better.

The night this all started was just like any other for (Y/N).

The morbian had just gotten off of their shift, with sore feet and a strained brain from hours and hours of work, their only thought was about returning to the comfort of their home for some much needed dinner and rest.

Their body was practically in autopilot, following the familiar trails of the sunset forest zone. Even with a lack of thoughts or cares, they still took the time to take the slightly shorter way through, cutting through the trees and actual forest part of the zone to avoid the obstacles that the land had, making it hard for anyone to really get anywhere without it being like a parkour course.

Of course people like Sonic, Knuckles and any other of his friends might've had no problems with doing a course like that in under 5 minutes and continuing with their day, but (Y/N) wasn't like any of them, they were painfully boring and on the weaker side of things unlike the colorful cast of heroes that they had grown to be acquinted with. So, for people like (Y/N), they took the shortcut.

(Y/N) trudged through the forest, gently swatting away any leave or tree branches in their way as they did so. The setting sun's golden rays warmed their body to the touch, making a relaxing, lulling feeling overtake the morbian, allowing for them to wash away the stresses and worries of the day.

They felt completely and utterly safe right there on the path, not worrying about anything, not having to worry if another villain appeared along their way, and not having to worry about the creepy customers at their work who made it their goal to make them as uncomfortable as possible and then leave a shitty tip.

It was nice to have no cares, being able to just enjoy yourself in a comfortable silence. Though, that didn't last long--Well, at least not the silence part of things. Just before reaching a clearing of sorts, (Y/N) heard some subtly shoveling noises coming from ahead, followed by muffled cursing. They couldn’t understand most of it, but they were able to make out the whisperings for "Imposter." and "Dirty cretin's."

Taking notice to the hostility in the raspy tone that they head, (Y/N) immediately halted all movements and stayed deathly quiet, trying to make out where the sound came from so they could avoid that area or find a way around it without running into any possible dangers.

Sure, they could've ran in trying to find out whatever this hostile person was and see what they were up to and if it were actually dangerous but (Y/N) did not want to stick their nose into any strangers business. Especially when that stranger is in the woods alone with them. That sounds like the start to a bad horror movie they did NOT want to be a part of.

The sounds seemed to be coming from straight in front of (Y/N), causing some difficulties for any escape plans. If they just moved far to one of the sides, the person or morbian behind the sounds would easily be able to see them, thanks to the fewer amount of trees near the clearing.

So, (Y/N) quickly crouched down and crept toward the direction the noise came from, carefully listening in on the voice as well as trying to peek at who or what was there to be able to plan out an escape route. However, they could hear only faint whispers and hushed curses. As they approached closer, the earth decided to give them a cruel reminder of their surroundings.

'SNAP'

They took a step further than they should've, and suddenly the noise of a twig snapping under their foot hit not only their ears but mostly likely the figure they we're spying on as well. The murmurings and shoveling noises came to an abrupt stop, confirming (Y/N)'s fears that the person had heard it.

Fuck.

In one swift movement, (Y/N) pushed themselves up from their crouched position, darting to the left to at least try to hide in the few of trees they did have while evading the thing that had made all those noises. They weren't sticking around for even a second longer to figure out what the hell would happen to the. They had a better chance of surviving by running instead dog staying put like a deer in headlights.

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor was not lost on them, and neither was the pitter patter of feet chasing after them. The calming feeling they previously held in their chest when strolling quickly turned to adrenaline and fear.

This person had to be bad news, they wouldn't have been chasing (Y/N) unless they had something (Y/N) wasn't supposed to see.

The exhaustion that previously consumed (Y/N) and alertness took it's place. (Y/N) pushed against the wind, running as fast as they could, to the point where the fear of their leg muscles tearing was an actual thought that crossed their mind. Their breathing became erratic, both due to the energy they were using up as well as from fear. Despite their attempts to avoid any other branches or other parts of the natural environment that could slow them down, mid-steo their ankle had snagged onto one of the trunk roots belonging to one of the few trees around, sending (Y/N) toppling to the ground.

With the force and momentum, their fall knocked the air out of the lungs. (Y/N) yelled out, cursing out as a sharp pain was spent through their knee, making their cab quickly cramp up. They tried twisting their body to force themselves back up but before they even could, a hand grabbed at their shoulder, making the morbian flinch and their blood run cold.

But the touch was...oddly gentle??

"Ohmigosh!! Are you okay? What are you doing out here?" A familiar voice fell on (Y/N)'s ears, a stark contrast from the shrill yet raspy voice that they heard from the harsh whispering earlier. (Y/N) whipped their head around, turning to come face to face with a familiar two tailed acquaintance.

"Tails?! What are 𝘺𝘰𝘶 doing out here??" Despite (Y/N)'s confusion, the morbian couldn't help but feel relieved at the familiar face. At least there was a hero here now, no one would dare try to chase after them if Tails was by their side. There was a high chance people wouldn't question their disappearance--But tails?? Tails was a part of Sonic's crew, people would definitely be worried if he left.

"I was just..Making sure Robotnik hadn't set off any traps here for Sonic. What are you doing here..??" He questioned with a tilt of his head, a curious look taking over his features. He moved his hand away, allowing (Y/N) to sit up which gave the Morbian a chance to inspect their own leg. (Y/N) took notice to how his lips parted at the end of his sentence, as if he was about to use their name but had forgotten or hadn't known it. They were hurt, but they couldn't really blame the two tailed fox.

The two had never really hung out alone before so there's no surprise he wouldn't remember them that well. "I was just going home from work when I heard something. Before I know it, I'm being chased off and now this." (Y/N) explained, gesturing to their leg as they did so. Tails' eyes followed where (Y/N) was gesturing, taking notice to the leg.

"Oh, geez. Can you move it??" Tails asked, a hand reaching out to inspect the leg and stretch it out to see if that could help. He placed his paw on the leg, his eyes held no emotion, despite how his face made an effort to contort in concern. He did some simple stretches on the leg, but it only took a few minutes for a noise of pain to escape (Y/N)'s lips, alerting the fox friend to the fact that it was most likely too painful to walk on.

"I'm no doctor, but I think you might have a sprain. I don't think you can walk with it."

He looked at (Y/N). "Do you need me to carry you?" Tails asked, offering them a soft smile. "I may not remember where your house is, but if you tell me I'm sure I can take you there."

(Y/N) considered it for a few moments, their brows knitting together as they did so. They didn't want to cause him any trouble by asking him to do such a thing but with the throbbing pain in their leg, they doubted they could limp all the way back to their home. So with a nod of their head they agreed on Tails's offer. "If..if you can, please." They answered quietly, a tired and exhausted expression taking its place on their face.

The two tailed friend grinned at this before adjusting where he was so he could easily scoop (Y/N) up. Once in position, the fox picked up the morbian with little to no struggle. The morbian fox quickly draped (Y/N)'s body around his shoulder, carrying them firefighter style similar to how someone would carry a dead body or unconscious one.

"Jeez...I uh...I don't remember you being this strong, Tails." A nervous laugh escaped (Y/N)s throat, their hands latching onto any of Tails to make sure that the furry fox wouldn't drop them.

"Well, Sonic isn't the only one whos been pummeling Badniks." Tails chirped out, to which (Y/N) made a noise of understanding, eyes still cautiously watching the ground to make sure that they wouldn't slip and land face first into it.

With (Y/N) now draped over his shoulder, Tails took off into the direction towards (Y/N)'s home--Of course, after the Morbian had told him the coordinates.

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

"Thanks again, Tails. You really came at the perfect time." (Y/N) grunted, their bed bending when the two-tailed fox placed them down on it. Tails gave a small nod, his tail slowly swishing behind him as his hands hovered over (Y/N)'s figure for minutes longer, ready to grab at them in case they would fall back or the like. "It's no sweat off my back--After all, What are friends for??" Tails smiled widely, flashing the other with a cheeky grin.

(Y/N) laughed lightly at that, their mouth twitch upwards. "Friends?? Didn't know you considered me one. I'm honored, Tails." Tails rubbed the back of his neck nervously, though it didn't feel entirely organic, more so that he planned for the action, deciding what would look the best.

"Whoops, must've just slipped out, huh?"

(Y/N) hummed in response, their expression taking on a slightly troubled one after the warmth of the interaction rubbed off.

"Hey...Tails?" (Y/N) questioned, unsure in their words of they should say it.

Tails raised his head once more, his ears perking up and twitching at the sound of his name. "Hm? What's wrong??"

(Y/N) paused for a moment, before opening their mouth to speak.

"Do you mind if you stick around for a few minutes?? You don't have to stay the rest of the day or anything, I'm just a bit worried that...something had followed me from the woods."

Tails furrowed his eyebrows at this, his eye even seeming as though it we're twitching from annoyance, but the expression only lasted a split second and was barely registered by (Y/N) before it returned to the kind smile the fox always had. "You're right, of course. It won't bother me at all!! I'll stick by the front door to make sure no one comes by and so I can see if anything goes on."

(Y/N) flashed the short fox a grateful grin, words being incapable of expressing their gratitude towards his act of kindness. "Thank you so so much, I really appreciate it, tails."

Tails waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, it's no biggie!! Just worry about getting some rest for your leg, okay?? Once your safe and asleep, I'll just slip on out." Tails didn't wait much for a response, quickly taking his leave with a flick of his tails, leaving the morbian alone in their room, confused but still grateful nonetheless.

Once away from the morbian, Tails released a sigh, one of annoyance as he quickly dropped the kindhearted smile he kept plastered on his lips the entire time he was around that..that...𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨!!

Who were they anyways?? His universe never had anyone like that, and neither did any of the other universes with the other fake 'Sonic's. It was always him and Sonic, occasionally Amy, and Knuckles as well but there was never someone of (Y/N)'s caliber--Much less one that seemed to be acquainted with Sonic and the imposter of himself.

It was disgusting. Why was this universe any different?? How could it be? It was never different. It always always the same, it was supposed to be the same. He doesn't like change, but he especially didn't favor this change.

The two tailed fox strolled down the halls, his eyes flickering from wall to wall with disgust evident in his gaze. What was so special about this person that Sonic would be wasting his time on them?? The only person he should be wasting his time on was him--His best friend.

Tails paused, his eyes falling towards a table just barely in his line of sight from the gap that lead from the halls to the living room then the kitchen. Curious, he made his way over to it, though most of his intentions was just to get to the kitchen, to grab a knife and finish the job to leave no witnesses.

On top of the table were some documents, just the usual rent and bills and things of the nature. He grabbed for the documents, bringing it closer to his face and squinting to try and read the finer details and possibly attach a name to his victim.

"(Y/N)...(L/N)..??" His voice muttered, dropping the whole impression of this universe's Tails to instead speak in his usual shrill and raspy tone.

It wasn't a...bad name. Not bad at all actually. Kinda had a nice ring to it.

He shook his head, clearing it of its thoughts before he tore his eyes away from the work, letting it fall on the walls instead--Or more specifically, the pictures on the walls. There were many photos of (Y/N) and family members but they weren't the ones that caught his attention.

The one that did was one of (Y/N) who appeared to be just a few years younger, their hair dawning on a slightly different style and they were grinning like an idiot with Sonic right next to them, taking the picture. It must've been the first time the two had met, (Y/N) looked as though they had just met a celebrity or something so it was a possibility.

Sonic looked so right in that image, almost reminding Tails of the Sonic he thought was the real one, the one from his universe.

Maybe this universe actually 𝘥𝘪𝘥 have the real Sonic, His Sonic. He might actually find him this time.

...

...

Maybe (Y/N) was the reason for that?? They WERE the difference that separated this universe from the many, many others with many, many imposters of Sonic that tried to deceive him.

That's how it all started.

After that, Tails had successfully replaced his 'imposter' and nobody were none the wiser. Sonic and Amy noticed that he seemed off at first and was able to get them off his trail. Amy even started to grow vulnerable enough to open up about her crush on Sonic and how to win him over.

Perfect.

That wouldn't be the last time he saw (Y/N), however. The day after, (Y/N) had showed up at his lab with a noticeable limp, having made him some food as a thanks for him helping their leg out. Tails--Although a bit begrudgingly, ended up helping the morbian out, making sure that they were able to walk around by making them a cane for temporary use until their leg healed up.

The plan originally was to get (Y/N) out of the picture, either by executing them in a similar style to how he did with Shadow and Knuckles sor through other means.

But when he finally had the opportunity to do such a thing by them complaining about how their phone was bugging out, he...didn't. He offered to help and had a chance to turn it into an explosive as he had done with Knuckles but he couldn't. All he did was fixed up the bugs as well as add some much needed upgrades before giving it back to the morbian.

He swore he never saw Amy or Sonic's eyes light up like how theirs did whenever he did similar favors for them.

He found himself spending hours and hours reasoning his behavior with himself.

Of course he couldn't kill them, they were the reason he was with his Sonic!! If he killed them, the universe would be just as interchangeable with all the others, than that wouldn't make his Sonic special.

The two grew a bond rather quickly. (Y/N) usually came over to check out any little projects or gadgets Tails was working on and Tails would let them rant about their day.

Tails hadn't wanted to admit it, and actively pushed it away but this feeling kept returning to him, one too familiar for him to deny much longer.

He liked (Y/N), didn't he?? The feeling was definitely similar to the ones he felt for Sonic, yet they weren't as well. They could both rival his deadly obsession with the blue blue yet also surpass it.

Before anyone knew it, Green Hill had two people that Tails was always hovering over.

Tails started making more and more trips out of his lab, skipping out on projects or time he usually spent twisting and toying with Any's emotions for Sonic in favor of just always being around (Y/N).

He 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to know what (Y/N) was doing 24/7. That's why he always kept tabs on them. If they went anywhere, if they left their house, if they were eating at lunch, if they did anything else, anything to indicate that they weren't alone in their home at all times, Tails would immediately know.

So, when one day you had gotten more dressed up than usual and made your way to Angel Island to meet up with a certain red echidna, he was the first to know and He. Was. 𝘗𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥.

For the first time ever since he got there, he refused to hang out with Sonic. He stopped hovering around the blue blur, instead almost immediately making a B-line for Angel Island. He offered little to no explanation for the hedgehog, though Sonic was grateful nonetheless for finally being able to be left alone.

Once catching the familiar glimpse of (H/C) and Red, the fox was quick to duck behind some of the islands nature, using that as a way to obscure his figure as he took in the scene in front of him.

(Y/N) was sat comfortably on the ground, legs crossed and leaning against the stand where both Knuckles and the master emerald were perched upon.

The two were talking about nothing and everything, (Y/N) chatted away meanwhile Knuckles watched the morbian, paying attention to every single word as if they were speaking of the world's secrets.

Knuckles and (Y/N)'s conversation was audible to the fox, though all the two titled fiend could really hear was white noise. Disgust and bile built in the back of his throat at the sight. His disgust soon bubbled into pure unadulterated rage when he saw the red echidna reach over to the morbian and grab for their hand, holding it as if it were the most casual thing in the world. Who did he think he was to even touch (Y/N) so casually?? He was a nobody. You could replace this Knuckles with any other from any other universe and no one would be able to tell the difference.

He was nothing compared to Sonic--Compared to (Y/N).

Before the canine even really registered it, he had sprung out from his hiding spot, almost leaping onto the echidna in an attempt to wrestle the morbian away from (Y/N). It was a foolish thing to act off of his emotions, cause even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins he was still lanky and held absolutely nothing against Knuckles in combat.

In an instant, he had been pinned down, the red echidna holding down both wrists above his head.

"What the fuck are you doing?! What the hell, Tails?!" The echidna exclaimed, his rage possibling rivaling Tails'.

(Y/N) jumped back, their face contorting at the sight before them. They stayed deathly still, unsure if they should do anything in the moment as Knuckles seemed to have it under control.

"Get off of me, you filthy vermin!!" Tails hands futily reached up, clawing at the air near Knuckles face, but never managing to get close enough. "I'll claw your eyes out, imposter!!"

"Tails!!" The fox cringed at the sound of (Y/N)'s voices he almost forgot they were there in his rage. "What the hell has gotten into you??"

"This imbecile thinks it's alright to touch YOU like that! To be with YOU like THAT!?!" Tails yelled, not caring about how loud he sounded. Knuckles seemed to get angry at this, his grip on Tails tightening as his teeth grinded together. "He's an imposter, A fake!! He's not even good enough to matter!! He's no one in a million!! He's no Sonic!! He's not your best friend!" Tails writhed and swatted at Knuckles, attempting to somehow get the echidna off of him.

He was lucky enough to get a good kick to the groin, making Knuckles stumble back with a pained hiss. He looked ready to fight Tails, but a the yellow furred fox was quicker to action, grabbing for the closest thing near him which just so happened to be a rock.

Tails pounced back onto Knuckles, lifting the rock high before striking it down against his skull.

"Imposter!!"

Again.

"Cretin!!"

And again.

"Friend thief!!"

Hands wrapped around his neck, using it to yank him away from Knuckles before he could strike again, though the effects were already done.

Gurgling noises escaped what remained of Knuckles skull before his body went limp, the remaining fight that it contained draining away along with his life.

"Tails...What the fuck did you do?! Do you know what you had just done??" (Y/N)'s voice cracked, so much emotion being continued behind their words. They had just watched their friends life drained before their eyes. Not only that, but it was by the person they trusted, the one they thought were their hero, their friend.

"He was replaceable!! They all are! I can get you a new one in the snap of an eye--One that knows to keep its FILTHY hands away!!" This wasn't the voice they recognized. This wasn't the one that belonged to their Tails. The love and care that was once held in his tone was now filled with hate and lunacy.

"You....You're a fucking freak!!" (Y/N) cried out, their hands that were once grabbing onto the Fox's neck and shoulders now pushing him back, letting him collide on the harsh concrete of the Master Emeralds stand.

(Y/N) didn't know what was goingon in their brain, they almost blacked out from the rage but they do recall their body moving on their own. They kicked and stomped at the two tailed fox, making sure he'd stay down.

Tails didn't fight back. Unlike with Knuckles, he actually seemed to revel in this pain. A sickening, deafening cackle left his body, almost involuntarily. Every kick and stomp only seemed to fuel this giggle fit of his. He was clearly enjoying himself, watching with a wide smile as his eyes stayed locked into (Y/N)'s.

(Y/N) wanted to stomp his head in, to massacre his body like he did Knuckles, but they couldn't. They weren't as heartless as this Tails and they certainly weren't as vicious.

A whimper involuntarily escaped their lips as tears started to prick in the eyes. They felt betrayed, they were used. Their leg froze mid air, just hovering over Tails though they couldn't slam it back down on his form even if they wanted to. They wanted to go back to a couple minutes ago, where they were just having fun with a friend, when Tails wasn't even there.

Cracking noises came from the joint sofa Tails as he contorted his body, forcing his sore limbs to lift himself up.

With the pop of his joints he seemed to be...longer, lankier. More and more, he strayed from what (Y/N) knew tails to be until he was practically unrecognizable. He wasn't Tails, he was his own creature far far from the loveable tech-whiz (Y/N) knew.

"Oh, my dear. Don't tell me you're actually crying over a vermin of their caliber??"

Crazed eyes looked up at (Y/N) with an adoration of some kind, one that the morbian recognized as the lions he'd give his blue friend. "You have me, and I'm certainly better." His hand reached up and grabbed for (Y/N)'s leg, setting it down before his arms wrapped around it, hugging it close to him as if he were worshipping (Y/N)'s physical form. Hypocritical. This was far worse than holding hands and yet where was his punishment?? "I've always been there, since the beginning. I'm Tails, Sonic's best friend, the player two. You're hero."

(Y/N) shook their head violently, trying to free their legs from Tails' grasp only to be met with his two tails wrapping against it, keeping it in place. "Stop. Stop trying to leave. I'm the best for you, I'm your friend."

"I love you."

Thanks for reading ♥︎

[hard-treat-among-area]

https://kim-329.ludgu.top/fz/3ICX9Lf

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Henry VIII/Anne Boleyn Headcanons (Poly!Romantic)

❝ 👑 — lady l: I thought about this a while ago and it was saved in my drafts, but I only decided to write it now. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️❤️

❝tw: cheating, polyamorous relationship, obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of fights and jealousy.

❝ 👑pairing: yandere!henry viii x female!reader, yandere!anne boleyn x female!reader.

Anne was not blind to her husband's prying eyes on you. She felt angry, jealous and wanted to get rid of you as quickly as possible. But when Henry strictly forbade (threatened) her from doing something against you, she was shocked and smart enough not to act against his orders.

That being said, she started researching more about you. She was intrigued, it wasn't uncommon for Henry to keep mistresses and although she was hurt by this, there was nothing she could do. She hated it, but she was powerless against the King's power.

However, it was only after meeting you, after talking to you, that she finally understood why Henry was so interested in you. You had a unique grace, an aura that attracted her and made her comfortable. Before she knew it, Anne found herself longing for your company more which left her confused. Who in their right mind would fall in love with their husband's mistress?

It didn't matter anymore, not when Anne found herself falling more and more in love with you and soon began to feel jealous of her husband with you. It was unfair that he could have you and not her. .She deserved you more than him.

Henry, on the other hand, was over the moon. He quickly took you as his official mistress and no longer bothered trying to hide his affair with you, the love he felt for you. His desires for you were public knowledge and he was more than happy.

He knew this wouldn't please his wife, but he didn't care. Not when he had you in his arms, being loved and adored by him. You were so perfect, so sweet and so beautiful. You were made for him. Completely his.

Anne watched her husband interact with you with jealousy and longing, she wanted to hold you. She could no longer continue like this, being ignored. So she decided to act. During one night when her husband was visiting her, Anne decided to talk to him. Tell him how she feels about you. That she was attracted to you. Henry didn't know what to say.

He was stunned and silent, just watching his wife as if she were crazy. But Anne kept talking, wanting to make sure he understood. Henry remained strangely quiet and after a few minutes, a sparkle appeared in his eyes.

Henry would never accept sharing you with anyone, but he found the idea of ​​sharing you with his wife strangely exciting. It wasn't ideal, but he saw nothing more pleasurable and lovely than having his mistress and his wife together.

They are both extremely possessive of you. They are jealous of each other with you, but they are more jealous of you around other people. You are theirs and Henry will use his power as King to deal with anyone who threatens his relationship with you. Anne had also used her influences to her advantage.

You are endlessly spoiled and adored. Servants are instructed to fulfill your every whim and desire. There is no doubt about who really holds all the power over them. Your relationship with Henry is public knowledge, but with Anne is kept private.

But that doesn't mean she stays away from you because she doesn't. Anne does her best to be by your side during the day, the touches and looks are discreet and shared only between you. Henry also participates, but he has no shame and actually kisses and touches you in public. He is the King, after all.

There is still a lot of jealousy and fighting over you between these two, fights that only became bigger after Anne's pregnancy. She wanted you with her all the time and so did Henry. You are the only person who can calm them down, usually sweet words and subtle touches do the trick.

You will be dragged into this never-ending tumultuous marriage, the fights that always turned into making love on the carpet in your rooms at the end of the night would always continue. Would the gifts, power and love you received be enough for you to endure this turbulent relationship with your King and Queen?

You forgot your worries when you were together with your lovers, in the privacy and tranquility of your chambers. Clothes on the floor and heavy breathing. In the end, you would always give in to them. You were as much theirs as they were yours.

[floatyflowers]

Dark Husband! Alexander The Great x Reader

You were favored concubine of Darius, and held a high position in Egypt for such a title.

All it took for you, is to seduce him with your youthful looks and body.

Adding to that your high intelligence which attracted him to you.

It was going smoothly, as you planned to cause a revolt against him and take over.

But that all went to waste, When Alexander the Great conquered Egypt.

You quickly switched sides to save yourself, but never expected that Alexander would fall for your witty attitude.

And also your connection with the high priests whom you convinced to make the people trust Alexander and believe that he was sent by Amun to save Egypt from Persia.

When he proposed for you to marry him, you were surprised, but accepted.

Which was a huge mistake.

You expected that he would leave you in Egypt and continue his conquests but instead he took you with him.

"I'm your husband, so you are obligated to accompany me and attend to me whenever needed"

Also, your influential connections were cut off as Alexander refused that you speak or send letters to anyone.

Anyone who was against the marriage, Alexander would execute them.

He made sure to execute your relatives, so you will have no one but him.

Even though, Alexander has two other wives, and a harem, but it's you who he always spends most of his nights with.

Most of those nights, you would try to persuade him to sleep with others.

With the excuse that they will give him a better experience.

But he argues that he only wants you, and wants to get you pregnant as soon as possible.

Fortunately, Alexander gets ill, and you stay by his side until he passes.

Your happiness of freedom doesn't last, because Ptolemy I Soter decides to rule Egypt and take you as his wife.

So, you become the ancestor of Cleopatra VII

[bitethedustfools]

TWST Story Idea (12)

Yuu didn't get to go home after all those months spent here in Twisted Wonderland trying to deal with school life, the overblots, and the homesickness.

Yuu didn't take it too well when Crowley broke it to them. What are they supposed to do now? Yuu can't live like this, knowing that their family must be worried sick with their absence.

Moreover, this school life is only temporary. What comes next when everything is over and everyone parts to find their own path? Yuu doesn't have a place in this world. Their existence here is a mistake.

Yuu does not belong here.

Yuu refuses to believe Crowley and takes it upon themselves to scour the whole library. But that will take time given how big it is, and Yuu is only one person.

Not one of their friends is willing to help because they said a book like that doesn't exist, and there's nothing Yuu could do.

But what do they know? Yuu hasn't seen them ransack the whole library, nor did they put in an effort to, so how would they know it's not there?

Yuu keeps searching on, their loyal friend Grim ever by their side, even if he's grumbling about how bored and tiring it is.

But he stayed and helped, even when he feared that he would be left alone one day, and that's all that matters. The relationship with their friends strained just a little bit in doing so, but Yuu thinks it won't matter in the end.

The library hadn't been fully searched when the school life ended, and Yuu feared what became of them after this. Yuu knew that knowing they couldn't go home, they would have to make a new one in this new world, which is not what they would have preferred.

They could stay in that dorm, but Yuu is no longer a student. There's no reason for them to stay here in the dorm that they had fixed. Crowley had said so; he owned it and gave them shelter, so it's natural that he will take it all back.

He is not that generous at all, even though this was his problem Yuu was here in the first place.

With this being said, Yuu decided to become a teacher, replacing Professor Mozus Trein, who is now retiring, and Grim will be taking over Lucius's position.

Teaching history is no problem; Yuu already wasted some of their life in that classroom and that library. Yuu couldn't believe they knew Twisted Wonderland history much better than their own, but Yuu supposed that it's vital for their job.

This way, Yuu can continue going to the library, even though being a teacher is far from what they always wanted to be. But it's not like they have any choices, isn't it?

There are also advantages in being a teacher. One is that Yuu can do whatever they want because they are now an adult. They could talk back to Crowley face to face now.

Second is that if the library held not one clue to the way back home, which would make Yuu insane if NRC didn't really have such a book, Yuu is able to request any visitation to any other college, partly because Yuu has such a good connection with them.

Yuu's friends sometimes visit them out of the blue, bearing gifts and coaxing Yuu to visit their places as well, going as far as to crash the classroom and so forth. It was thoughtful, albeit annoying, but the implication did not escape Yuu's observation.

It's not going to work. Yuu thought of this over and over again every time their friends tried to bond with them.

Yuu will leave this place one day, and all those memories and relationships will be for naught. Yuu would rather they have no good feelings towards this world for fear they will have a desire to return here again. Yuu doesn't have the courage to leave their family once more if they managed to come home.

Yuu would have to be indifferent to their approach, reject every reaching hand, and drown themselves in dust and pages.

How long will Yuu stay here? To what length will Yuu go for the sake of going home?

Yuu glanced at the black Magestone kept properly in the chest. The Magestone that appeared the moment Grim's overblot was over.

The glimmer in their eyes shone like a star.

All Yuu needs is magic.

-

*Yandere is alright. The characters probably burned the book so Yuu could stay. They have patience and believe that Yuu will finally let go and pick one of them to settle down.

*Would the angst be great in some friends' POV?

[yamikawas]

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere Ragnar Lothbrok Would Include:

Dating him, as a yandere? It can be a real challenge. He is protective of the one he loves. He will do anything to keep you safe, even if that means he has to remove any rivals and threats. But he is a loyal and devoted lover, and the love he shows is unlike anything you have ever experienced.

He is possessive, obsessive, and often violent, so dating him would be a roller coaster of emotions. He would be very protective of his significant other. However, he would also be prone to fits of jealousy and rage if he had any suspicions of disloyalty or betrayal. He would demand your undivided attention and love and would not tolerate any other rivals or suitors in the picture. He would not hesitate to use physical violence to ensure his partner's loyalty, but he would also go to great lengths to show devotion and affection.

He is a very obsessive lover. He would do anything for the person he's with. He will show up unexpectedly and make you feel loved and appreciated. He would be constantly keeping track of you, monitoring your time and activities, and he may even go as far as trying to keep you isolated from others. He would be highly irritable and jealous if he saw you interacting with other lovers, which would make him lash out in anger or act in a mean/cruel manner.

He can be very manipulative and abusive. He might try to guilt-trip you into staying with him or trying to control you by manipulating your emotions. If you're seeing someone else, he might try and harm them. If you're away for too long, he might become more overly obsessive and make you feel guilty or scared when you finally see him. In order to keep you away from other lovers, he'll stalk, spy, and follow you.

He would feel a strong sense of attachment and obsession towards you, and if you don't reciprocate his feelings, then he'll start feeling anxious and stressed. He would always try to control and isolate you, and he would show his love in very unconventional ways, like giving you unwanted gifts or keeping tabs on you. If you do reciprocate his feelings, then he will be overly clingy and needy, needing to be with you 24/7.

He would constantly worry about you leaving him, and he would try to manipulate or pressure you into spending more time with him. As a yandere, he would be prone to violent and obsessive behavior, like harming anyone who dared to get too close to you. He would get very jealous and possessive, and he would be very insecure and needy. At the same time, he would feel an intense adoration and attachment towards you, and he would do absolutely anything to make sure you are his and only his.

His extreme obsessiveness and possessiveness can be destructive and even dangerous. If you were to betray him by cheating or interacting with other lovers, he would become extremely jealous and aggressive. He would go to extreme lengths to keep you under his control, and he would show a lack of empathy or remorse in his behavior. He may even resort to violence, manipulation, and harassment to gain your attention or prevent you from socializing with others. In this sense, his possessiveness and obsessive behavior can be extremely toxic and unhealthy.

He would show an extreme dislike towards your other friends and family, constantly making passive-aggressive and snide remarks about them, and he would be suspicious of them as well and would accuse them of stealing you away from him. He would also be extremely possessive, always wanting to be with you and preventing you from leaving the house or living your normal life. He would also be emotionally unstable and volatile, quickly alternating between anger and depression.

He can be very sweet and loving towards his partner when you reciprocate his feelings. He is a very caring and attentive lover, and he would do anything to make you happy. He would be constantly spoiling you and showering you with affection and attention. He would be very attentive to your needs, and he would be a very supportive, helpful, and devoted partner.

He would love to take you on dates, where he could demonstrate more of his sweet and affectionate side. He would plan thoughtful and romantic dates for his loved one, whether it be going out for dinner, seeing a movie, or simply taking a walk in the park. He would be eager to please and keep you happy, showing his love through gifts and words of affirmation. However, if his obsession overrides his sweet side, he may expect you to cancel any other plans that you might have and spend the entire day with him.

He is very prone to jealousy. He obviously has an unhealthy obsession with you, which causes him to feel extreme anxiety and stress. Whenever he sees you interact with others, especially other potential love interests, he becomes extremely jealous and paranoid. He may start to compare himself with other potential love interests and become even more increasingly possessive and controlling of you, which can often lead to very toxic actions.

When alone with you, he shows a softer side. He is often far more affectionate, attentive, and caring. He would be constantly showering you with attention and gestures of affection and he would be eager to please and satisfy you. He would be playful and fun-loving, and he would often make you laugh. He would be more relaxed and himself around his partner, showing no signs of aggression or possessiveness. However, if he had any worries or doubts, he would be quick to become possessive and demanding again.

He would be prone to sudden bursts of extreme emotions, such as intense jealousy, sadness, or rage. If you don't reciprocate his feelings he would feel paranoid and constantly questioning your motives. He would also be controlling and possessive, wanting to dictate how you live your life. You would also be a target of his extreme anger and violence, whether he physically or verbally abuses you. If you do reciprocate his feelings, then he will be obsessively clingy and possessive, wanting to spend every waking moment with you and always monitor your activities.

If you weren't a Viking, then he would still behave in very much the same way. His obsessive personality and possessive nature would be directed towards you instead. He would still become irrationally possessive, and controlling. He would still feel intense bouts of anger, rage, and paranoia. And would still behave in a very unhinged manner.

Yes, his obsessive and controlling nature would most likely lead him to try to force you into following his way of life. His obsession would override any sort of moral or ethical concerns. And he would not think twice about using manipulation and intimidation to control you. If you refused, then he would escalate his abuse in order to fully dominate and control you. In the end, he would want you to do everything he said and for you to live according to his will.

He would view marriage as a way of establishing complete control and ownership over his partner. It would be a way of ensuring that you would be his and his alone and that you would always be with him and could never leave. It would be a way of ensuring that you could never escape from him, and would be forced to submit to his will for the rest of your life.

He would view children as the ultimate form of control and ownership over you. It would be a way of solidifying his bond with you and ensuring that you could never leave him. It would also be a way of making you forever dependent on him and ensuring that he would always have a degree of control over your lives as well. He would see children as the perfect way of ensuring your undying devotion and submission to him.

He would view you through a very twisted and obsessive lens. His every thought and action would be driven by a deep-seated need to possess and control you. You would not be seen as an individual person with your own thoughts and emotions, rather you would be seen as a means to satisfy his own needs, desires, and delusions. He would see you as an object of his obsession and desire, nothing more, and nothing less.

It is hard to say whether or not he actually genuinely loves you in the conventional sense. I believe that in the twisted world of a yandere, his definition of love could be seen as something more akin to obsession or domination. From his own perspective, he might truly love you in the sense that you are something that he needs and desires beyond any sort of self-control or reason. However, a yandere's twisted mind would not be able to distinguish the difference between love and obsession. In the end, it's all about power and control.

He would want you to know that his obsessive and twisted behavior is a form of affection and love and that he only means to protect and care for you. That ultimately, he would do anything to keep you happy and safe, and that he would never intentionally hurt you. He would also want you to know that his possessive and obsessive nature stems from a deep-seated need to protect and keep you all to himself and that it is a reflection of his inner insecurities and fears.

Some of his favorite kinks include power exchange, dominance/submission, possession, and ownership.

He also enjoys exploring his darker and twisted side, such as fear play, humiliation, and degradation. He finds that these kinks give him a sense of control and mastery over you and that he can exert his dominance over you.

He is also a fan of passionate and romantic intimacy, he enjoys making a connection with you and sharing a deep bond.

He enjoys exploring your body and discovering new sensations, he is also a fan of foreplay, and he likes to take his time, build up anticipation, and build up tension before the main event.

Another one of his favorite kinks is outdoor play. He enjoys the nature and fresh air and he likes to take advantage of it by exploring new areas and engaging in intimate encounters.

He also has a thing for water and enjoys exploring its elements during intimate moments. He likes to take showers and baths together, and he will also get physical with you in pools or beaches.

[ctheathy]

hiii i love your writing so much!!!and im so happy to see someone writing for Secret History Tails! could you write something about him with a reader who finds his "scarier" form really endearing? and they praise him and are very physically affectionate, much to his surprise

Secret History Tails w/ adoring!Reader

Secret History Tails x Reader

Fluff Headcanons

Short Concept

Author’s note : Yesss~! Let’s pamper this fox until he melts like a little wax candle🕯️🧡

SH Tails [TSAA]/Reader [Romantic Tendencies]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

To have somebody be interested in him as a whole is already a completely foreign concept to this fox. Much less the said person actually being aware of who and what he genuinely is. Tails has always just felt the need to deceive those around him and manipulative them, viewing them more as steppingstones for his own benefit instead of real creatures and making him even more distant towards the concept of love. Your touchy and affectionate demeanour catches the mobian completely off guard, as he’s not used to people being so ... joyful to even be around him. Heck, he remembers people not even looking in his direction back at his own dimension. Making him incredibly fragile to the offered kindness.

Tails usually isn’t one to care much for his physical appearances, his obsessions having gotten far too deep into his head to pay any mind. I can certainly see his fur being somewhat on the messy and oily side with how little he takes care of it. He oftentimes even fails to take care of himself as a whole in his position. But I can still see him growing somewhat hostile if it gets brought up through a negative way. If you compliment him though? He is going to be trembling on the spot and melt in your hands like silly putty. Please be patient with him, he tends to get incredibly overwhelmed and flushed when being put in a positive light. It only feeling obvious to him that he’s not even worthy of this kind of attention in the first place. Making him a bit awkward and shy.

It oftentimes catches even him by surprise by how much strength you hold over him.

He has never really had anybody give comments such as those directed in his way. But he’ll accept all of your sweet words with open arms and return the favour in an instant. Tails has always been one to praise and worship those who he loves and looks up to, you being no exception to his entitlement. He is quite needy for validation and is pretty touch starved himself, so as soon as he lets nature run its course when being around you; he cannot help but grow a deep bond and attachment to the way you treat him with care. It’s like an absolute drug to the fox, only leaving him to beg for more whenever you take some of your distance. The simple acts of basic decency and sweetness is enough to leave Tails completely compelled with you, leaving him in a complete submissive and vulnerable state when it comes to you and your thoughts about him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･