#CW: noncon touching

[hurtfortea]

Whumpuary Day 5: Fragile

“Do you trust me?” | manhandled | chills

Contains: noncon touching (nonsexual), noncon kiss, injury/bodily harm, guns, knives, blood, defiant/mouthy whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, hostage situation, sci-fi setting

“Alright everybody! Keep calm, put your hands up, and this will be over with quickly! We don’t want to use force!”

Ares looks up, a bit shocked and a bit irritated. Seriously, who robs physical banks these days? He focuses on the “menu” button in the corner of his vision for three seconds and a screen appears in his vision. Ignoring his vitals, he selects the “emergency call” option. It doesn’t go through. Did they somehow block the signal around the bank? He dismisses the screen with a sigh and lifts his hands.

The robbers work their way around the room, cuffing people’s hands behind their backs. When they get to him, he doesn’t resist, though he shoots them a dirty look, which they ignore. If only he could have been a guardian. Then he’d be able to put these bastards in their place with the press of a button. He allows himself to be herded to the center of the room with the rest of the hostages while the leader drags the manager off to the back.

“You’re not going to get away with this.” Ares can’t help but say, for all the room to hear. “Were you living under a rock for the last thousand years or did you miss that the world has moved on to digital crime?”

“Shut it.” One of the men snap.

Ares scoffs. “What are you going to do to make me? Don’t act like you’d add to your sentence by hurting me.”

The men give him their attention, and the man who’d spoken to him narrows his eyes at Ares. “Who the fuck says I intend to get caught?”

Ares shrugs. “Doesn’t matter what you intend to do, it’s inevitable.”

“Ares.” Joan, one of his coworkers, hisses from beside him. “Don’t antagonize them.”

“Why not?” Ares asks, not breaking eye contact with the robber. “They’re not going to do anything. They’re here for the money.”

“Froggy. Tape him.” The man says.

‘Froggy’, a man with a frog mask, pulls a roll of duct tape from his bag and rips off a strip, walking over and sitting down on Ares’s legs. Something about him gives Ares the chills, but he refuses to let his discomfort show, sneering at the man. When Froggy reaches to put the tape over his mouth, he twists away, not that it does much to stop him. He just grabs Ares by the hair to keep him still and presses the tape over his mouth, smoothing it out with his thumb. He holds eye contact the entire time, and Ares can barely resist looking away.

“Boys! We’ve got the vault open!” The leader calls from the back. “Get back here!”

“Treat that guy to a good time, would ya, Froggy?” One of the men says before they head back.

“My pleasure,” Froggy says. Even though he can’t see the man’s face under his mask, Ares gets the feeling he’s smiling. He breaks eye contact, feeling a nervous sweat break out on his forehead. “Ares,” Froggy says, rolling the R as if to test the way it feels to say, and Ares’s eyes snap to him, confused, until he remembers his nametag. “I like that name,” the man decides. “Feels old.” Ares just glares. “Now, let’s see what we can do about teaching you how to hold your tongue.” Fear trickles in, and Ares pulls in a steady breath through his nose. He has to stay calm. The man pulls a knife from his bag, and it’s all Ares can do to keep his breath even.

“W-wait,” Joan says, “please, don’t hurt him, he’s got no filter, but he’s a good guy-”

Froggy scoffs. “You think I give a shit?” He digs the knife’s edge into Ares’s neck, just beside his jugular vein, and all rational thought disappears. Ares’s chest heaves, his heart beginning to thunder. He whimpers behind the tape, pulling uselessly against the man’s grip on his hair. He can feel his breath getting short, and that’s only making it worse. Froggy smiles at him. “You break easy, don’t you, sweetheart?” Ares shivers at the pet name, squeezing his eyes against the sudden onslaught of tears as his chest begins to hurt. “You’re all talk.”

“It’s not his fault,” Joan says, and Froggy frowns, looking at him again.

“Can’t you take a hint? This is between us,” Froggy says, nodding at Ares.

“He’s got a weak heart,” Joan carries on, “you’ll kill him if you freak him out too badly, so please-” The knife retracts and Ares is nearly lightheaded with relief.

“Oh, I see.” Froggy says, studying him like he’s some kind of artifact. “You require a gentler touch, huh?” Ares stiffles a sob as he tries to get his breathing- and heart- back under control.

“Damn, Frog,” one of the men says, and distantly Ares sees the other robbers have returned, their duffle bags full. “What the fuck’d you get up to?”

Froggy smiles, looking over his shoulder. “Nothin at all.”

The men laugh. “Well wrap it up, it’s time to go.”

Froggy hums low in his throat, looking back at Ares. His lips purse. “Ya know what? I think I’ll leave you with a little keepsake, to remember me by. Deep breath!” Without further warning, he slices through Ares’s cheek with his knife. Ares screams behind the tape, his scalp aching as he tries to wrest himself from the man’s hand. Froggy makes another cut, the same depth, cutting through the first. Ares’s blood wells in the shape of an X. “There we are,” Froggy says with a self satisfied smirk. Then he presses a sloppy kiss to the tape covering Ares’s mouth and stands up. “Be seeing you, Ares!” He follows the rest of his team out, and Ares is left breathing heavily through his nose, blood running down his face.

[pricegouge]

i have a concept that would take at least 2k to sell in a convincing way, but am unwilling to spend more than like five minutes on it so just bear with me please

cw: mentions of past murders. attempted murder. kidnapping. MDNI

i could see simon standing trial, falsely accused of serial murder. he's just got that aura about him. instills fear. cops think they've got a sure case when they pick him up. right jury, right experts. open and shut, they figure. but they fumble it. the same general incompetence that lead to them picking up the wrong guy, probably. but while the case is thrown out, Simon is still guilty in the court of public opinion. prosecution had been right about one thing, at least. he was a scary bastard. watched over the proceedings with baleful, blank eyes. he might not have done what he was standing trial for but he's far from innocent. just figured it was finally catching up.

but while it may not matter to him, there was a man out there somewhere, fuming. all his hard work, all his carefully plotted crimes... to see all that glory go to another man. and one so...

he. couldn't abide by it. he'd kill this riley, but only after the public was convinced how wrong they were, how they still needed to live in fear of a real predator.

it takes months of careful planning. riley may be military, but this man is an accomplished killer himself. has managed to evade capture for years. he's not usually a big game hunter, prefers the sweet little things that have eluded and incensed him all his life. but he knows when a trap is in order, and he knows better than most what ensnares men. and simon riley is no different, always seen dogging the heels of his own docile creature. (no wonder everyone was so eager to accept him as the killer, geez. this guy really had it coming.)

you've got one of those honest faces. america's sweetheart. you'd look good splattered across the internet. across his kitchen. the people would believe your sweet cries when he had screaming for mercy, pleading the world to understand they weren't safe from him. all he'd have to do was trap you, really. business as usual. riley would follow suit and be dealt with quickly enough.

and if the world already thinks you're dead, well. simon's never minded bringing home a souvenir from a mission.

[shipcest-f-f]

Noncon but the aggressor is super gentle while doing it, wiping away their tears and telling them how good they are doing

[cupcakeslushie]

I know we don't know the exact extent of Kendra's abuse but i think you've implied that when she shows Donnie physical affection it isn't always innocent, like gently holding his face, that it goes a bit deeper and darker than that. And if April is the one Donnie latches onto in the aftermath would there ever be a moment where Donnie misinterprets a touch from April and she finds out that Kendra's abuse had an extra layer of fucked up? How would she respond to finding that out? Or would none of them ever find out the severity of Kendra's abuse

@finnbin yes! I see Donnie starts with having nose bleeds (those are always fun!), slurred speech, blurry vision, and once it gets to the worst, seizures. These are caused by a mix of his long time spent staring at the screen Kendra forced over his eyes, and pushing his ninpo past it limits. He keeps trying to draw power when that link to his family has been severed. And he even keeps it up once his family rescues him. The first time Donnie has a seizure is with his family and it scares the absolute shit out of them.

⚠️ Nothing super explicit, but I do discuss Kendra committing some pretty heavy ableism and icky non-con touching below. Click at your own risk to see!

Kendra does force Donnie to work and talk through his meltdowns, and even pushes him into being physical with her when he doesn’t want to. He’s conflicted, because the praise makes him happy, even the short touches are fine, but then the kissing starts—Kendra saying she’s just curious. Donnie doesn’t really care for it, but Kendra likes it enough to keep pushing that line. Donnie keeps his discomfort to himself.

When Donnie does get rescued, and April tells him he doesn’t have to keep making her things. Donnie’s heart stops. Because if not stuff, then does April want the same thing Kendra wanted? Should he just wait it out? But one day, there’s a moment where April can’t hide her exhaustion and frustration with everything. She starts to tear up, and Donnie just reacts and moves. April freezes, and asks Donnie why he would do something like that? Donnie is practically shaking apart. April starts crying even harder, and the brothers run in. Donnie tries to quickly stammer out an explanation. It clicks for the two eldest, Leo tells Mikey to get out butt it’s too late. The whole family knows.

[missbunnybunny]

╔═.✧ 🖤 ✧.═══════════╗

▶︎ 𝕾𝖍𝖊’𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎 

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊.

╚═══════════.✧ 🖤 ✧.═╝

𝕿𝖜: ☞ 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝙽𝚘𝚗-𝚌𝚘𝚗, 𝙳𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 thoughts, 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢, 𝙱reeding, 𝙼ind break, 𝚁𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖, 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃! «🛑𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸🛑» ☜

Note: This is a y/n x pretty yandere, female-bodied reader.  pet names such as Darlin, Love, and Good Girl, etc. are used.

If I forgot something plz tell me. Like and re-blog, it helps getting these stories to new people!

🫧𝕴'𝖒 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖓', 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓' ❣️💌💌 part 1

Y/n was startled awake and panicked. Holding the sheets over her naked body, she found herself in an unfamiliar room. 

Silent tears streamed down your face as you began to shake. He tricked you and took advantage of your kindness. 

You mourned your lost innocence for a short time when a knock on the door interrupted you. 

“ I apologize for waking you up, miss Y/n.” a handsome man wearing a suit and carrying a tablet said. 

The scared woman clenched the sheets tightly, “ My name is Ray. Mister Blackwell has asked for you to join him for breakfast.” the man expressed. 

“n-No! I want to go home…let me go!” Y/n cried, face red from crying. “ I'm afraid I can not let you do that.” he shakes his head, “The maids will come and help you dress,” Ray commented before turning and leaving the room.

You cried until your lungs burned and hurt. Until your body could no longer produce tears, the maids shortly came. They helped you bathe and dress in a beautiful gown. They tried to cheer you up, but it was to no avail. 

Soon, Y/n sat next to James at a large binning table. He kissed your cheek and caressed your skin. His touch was sweet and caring if it didn’t disgust you. Food was served, but you didn’t want to eat. You don’t trust that it’s not drugged again.

“ Say ah~ my dear,” he says, pressing a fork to your mouth. When you don’t respond, he squeezes your inner thigh. When your lips parted in a yelp, he fed you. He continued to feed you. If you didn’t open your lips fast enough, he would swirl your sensitive pearl. 

The food was finished, and tears dripped down your soft skin. “ Come on, smile for me, sweetheart,” he asked, cupping your face and whipping your tears. “ I just want to go home.” You tearfully repeated. 

“ We can’t have that, dear. This is your new home.” James informed her as he stole a kiss from her. “ I want to go to my store,” Y/n pleaded. 

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

“ I already told your employees to take a weeks-long paid break.” James, shut your request down. He wasn’t going to tell you that, but Ray hacked your email and made such arrangements.  

Your face dropped all hope of escaping, where shattered. 

It had been a few days, and James made sure that all doors were locked, and Ray informed you that you could go anywhere. But strongly warned that you couldn’t be outside without supervision. 

James never left your side for your entire time locked in the large mansion. Sleeping, bathing, or even walking, he was there touching any sliver of skin he could. If he couldn’t find you for a moment or have his hands on you, he would lose his shit. 

James knocked on the door to his room, smiling when he found your sleeping figure under the covers. 

He kissed your lips, his tongue intruding your mouth. Lifting the covers from your naked body, his fingers began to caress your sensitive bundle of nerves. He thanked himself for prohibiting you from wearing clothes to bed. 

Your back arched as you woke up with a moan. He knew you were still sensitive from last night. His fingers began to pump into your flower, while his thumb still caressed your clit. Y/n hit his toned chest, but that only fueled his passion even more. 

Your lips parted as he gave you a dreamy sign. “ I have to go into the office, honey,” James spoke, latching his mouth to your chest. Your hand pulled on his hair, making the man moan. 

James curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot, over and over. The tight coil in your stomach made you whine, walls clamping on his fingers. 

With one more firm thrust, the coil in your tummy snapped. Honey gushed over his hand, withdrawing his hand, and licked it clean.

“ I have a meeting today, so unfortunately I won't be with you for a few hours. Be a good girl and behave.” He kissed your sweaty forehead, taking his leave and leaving you tired. 

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

Y/n walked towards the side door, hoping, begging that she would get lucky. And it seemed that her prayers were answered. The maids forgot to close the door.

Her hand trembled and twisted the doorknob, slowly opening it. The wind blew, signaling she was one step closer to freedom. The door was left ajar as the woman ran to the street, with no phone and no way to contact her family and friends.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, ending up in the station. One she couldn’t enter because she had no money. An old lady exiting the station called out to her, asking if she was okay. 

Y/n said she was, but her eyes betrayed her. The kind old lady offered her help, to which she took it. “ I…I just need help to run away,” she admitted, desperate to leave. She didn’t know when they would have already noticed her absence.

The kind lady smiled and accompanied her to buy a ticket. When she handed the ticket to Y/n, the girl cried, thanking her. 

Y/n gave the lady all the jewelry she had, as a thanks and wanting to part with them in fear of recognition.

The train had arrived, and she left. Free, she was free. 

She planned to return home, take all her valuables, and disappear. She would be sad to close her store, but it was needed. 

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

James sat in the meeting, bored, his assistant as always trying to get his attention with skimpy clothes. She would never be like Y/n. She was dirt under his goddess's feet. 

Ray came into the meeting room, whispering something into the CEO's ear. James looked like a deer caught in headlights, “ You sure?” he asked, looking at Ray. The man only nodded. 

“ I apologize, but something important has come up.” he expressed, standing up and abruptly ending the meeting.  

“ Ray, get the helicopter. I’m bringing my little darlin’ wife home.” James expressed, loosening his tie. 

The train ride was an hour and a half, so she could get some well-needed rest. But her mind raced, what ifs consumed your every thought.

 “ Ladies and gentlemen, we inform you that the train will have a small delay. We shall be on standby for some time.”  the conductor announced, as the sound of a helicopter could be heard. 

Dread filled your stomach, making it sink. 

“ Miss, please come with us.” a man in a suit said, “ You have the wrong person,” Y/n said, hoping it would work. 

“ My sweetheart, don’t make me punish you. Not in front of everyone here.” James said in a low voice.  His threat made you shake, trembling, hand taking his extended one. 

There was no hope of escaping the lion's den once you had stepped inside.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

James held Y/n’s hand tightly, making sure she wouldn’t escape as he took her to his room. He thrusts her towards the bed, “ If you love me, you’ll never do that again. Understand?” he warns, removing his tie. 

Y/n backed away until her back hit the headboard. The muscular man graded her leg and pulled her under him. 

She began to beg him to let her go, that she would stay and not run away. He shoves his tie in your pretty plump lips. 

Only allowing for moans and whines to filter through. 

He has you caged in between his meaty arms, his gaze held a lustful and hungry glint to them. 

Tears fell as if rain from your eyes, “ Don’t cry, I’ll make you feel good. I promise.” he kisses your tears.

Your tears felt like acid to his skin. He much rather you cry from pleasure. With his free hand, he removed his belt, tying your hands with them as if they were handcuffs. 

He rose and looked at your posed figure, his legs trapped by your hips, so you couldn’t escape from his embrace. 

He was going to make you feel better, make you see the high heavens. He began to worship your being kissing every scar, stretch mark, and so on. Any imperfection to you was perfection, a divine perfection to him.

Created by a higher being to be held, kissed, bitten, and claimed. 

He hiked your leg over his shoulder as he caressed your skin. Leaving kisses and hickeys over the skin. 

His hungry eyes looked at your teary ones, as he bit your leg.

His gaze lowered to your panties as he stared at them in hate like the small piece of clothing was holding your honey captive. 

The small piece of clothing became shredded into pieces when he ripped them. His rightful treasure was now on full display to him and only him.

 His large hand that once held your hip moved to your sex. With his index and middle finger, he spread your fold, groaning at the glittering sight of your slick.

His painfully hard member twitched upon seeing your dripping, aroused flower.

He groans, “ All this honey just for me?” he cups your cunt, feeling how it clenched around nothing.

Without warning, two larger fingers impale you, thrusting at an unforgiving pace. A long whine spills from your lips as you arch at the feeling.

He's hitting every sweet spot and curve inside you. His bulge grows even more at the sound of your watery juices. 

His thumb connects with your sensitive, neglected pearl, making you squirm and try to close your leg.

He slaps your pussy at the defiance, making electric pleasures shot throughout your body and brain. 

Y/n can feel the coil in her stomach tighten. Her hips met his thrust in chase of her own high. 

James speeds up his movements, watching as your eyes cross when he hits that spot.

Your walls begin to constrict his fingers, telling him that you're close. He bites the meat of your leg, his finger hitting deep inside you. 

Y/n came undone, eyes rolled to the back of her skull, drooling, back arch, and a pornographic moan of pleasure.

Cum covered his veiny fingers and his toned stomach. 

The sight almost made him cum in his pants. But, that milk was saved for his darlin's womb.

James pulled his pants down, allowing his hardened member to slap your sex. Thick and veiny. 

With your cum he gave himself a few pumps. The big man leans forward, his tip kissing your inviting honeyed entrance. 

“ See, you're so wet and sweet for me. You wanted this didn’t you?” he asks, his face flushed. 

His cock began to enter your wet, gummy walls, inch by inch. 

His hips stutter a little, and his body trembles with pleasure. The feeling of your lips sucking him in. 

With one hard thrust, he bottoms out in you. You moan, feeling so full, he begins to hump his manhood against your entrance. 

His almost in a trance, the sound of slick and moans adding to his resolve.

Each furious thrust thrusted her forward in the bed. His tip kissing her womb over and over, you’re moaning and pleas falling on deaf ears.

The makeshift gag swallowed all any sound that was not your monas, the sweet sounds of pleasure he wanted to hear from you. 

Y/n’s leg was still hooked over his shoulder. With his hands, he held her hips in a boa-constricting grip. 

Your overstimulated wall pulsed and twitched, “ Oh, you like that, huh?” he says, still drilling into her like a jackhammer. His hand pressed on the bulge in your small tummy. 

This made your walls tighten and pulse. His words and actions manipulated your dizzy pleasure-filled mind.

“ My pretty darlin’ going to look so beautiful, all swelled up with my child.” he groaned at the thought. Each thrust made your vision sparkle as if stars. 

The all-too-familiar feeling of the tight coil forming in your belly told you that you were close. James's thrust became uncoordinated as he chased that mind-numbing high he was looking for.

“You’ll make a cute mommy.” he moans. He removes your gag, as you beg and cry for him not to, but he crashes his lips against yours. 

He was going to snap you in half with the way he was bending your leg and fucking you at the same time.

The kiss was stymie, adding to the many pleasures you were feeling. Your mind was becoming blank, and you could only think of his dick inside you.

With a final harsh thrust, the coil in your gut snapped like a water gun. squirting over the man's abdomen and your inner thigh. 

James began to convulse, spilling his large fertile load at the feeling of your womb milking him dry. 

You felt so stuffed full and overstimulated. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to become a mommy, a slave to his man's cock. James’s load pulsed inside you, making his cum spill from your spent hole.

You will be the perfect cock-sleeve darlin’ for him, your eyes closed as sleep takes over you. a content smile on your face. 

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

A new 🕳 to hide in 👩‍🦯

Tag list:

@tremendousdinosaurpizza @violetvase

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

©𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢! 𝙽𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝. 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎. - 𝙱𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢🩻!

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Killer feeling extremely defensive of his soul and yet at the same time being unable to bring himself to stop anyone from staring or even touching. He'll just freeze up and let people do whatever they want with him, even if he would be technically capable of fighting them of the struggle is over the moment they have his soul.

Killer hating the way people stare at his soul.

Killer hating his soul.

Killer hating himself.

Killer allowing and pushing for color to touch it and handle it and hold it all the time. It still makes him freeze up in fear. But it's better. He hates it but it's better if its color, he wants it to be color. He wants colors touch to wash away all the other touches and the stares and just- everything- he feels dirty. He feels gross and dirty and used. And it still feels horrible when it's color but he convinces himself it doesn't, he wanted this, he asked for this, it's always going to be someone atleast like this it's someone he trusts. Color wouldn't take advantage, color won't hurt him, he knows that. He knows. He wants this. Right? He must. He asked.

Killer getting frustrated when color won't touch him. Him trying desperately to explain that it's fine and that he wants this and he really really does want this, please.

Color seeing right trough his bullshit.

Color trying to explain to killer that this isn't the right way to process or 'get rid' of his trauma. Color trying to tell killer that forcing it like that will just make it worse. Color trying to make killer understand that he doesn't have to let Color do that, that he doesn't have to let anyone do that, that killer can live out the rest of his live without allowing anyone to touch his soul ever again and that's okay. He doesnt need to rush it. These things need time. Forcing it before he's ready will only do more harm than good.

Reminds me of ano saying that killer is so used to be touched without permission or being asked from nightmare that he’d be extremely docile with anyone touching or moving him because he’s conditioned to be accepting of these things and they’re normal to him now and how Color is the first person he recalls asking to touch him in a long time and then asking if he wants to be touched and then him experimenting by telling Color ‘no’ the next time color asks and his surprise when Color listens and keeps listening 😭

Nightmare really got his hands all over Killer and fucked him up in new unique ways 🙏

[deluxewhump]

Ethan Byrne- 2

Part one

CW: Cameron has just turned 19 in this. abuse, very incestuous overtones, controlling whumper, intimate whumper, bruises, bruise touching, noncon kiss (back of neck), dunking underwater, standing dishwater (this is a new cw)

_

Ethan approached Cameron in the kitchen, where he was dutifully finishing up their dishes for them. He took a fistfull of ashy brown hair, shoving Cameron suddenly and forcefully down so he flung his hands out to keep his head from going into the dirty water. He gripped the edge of the sink with whitening knuckles, keeping his face out of the water by six inches. Ethan slotted one leg between Cam’s from behind to better control him. 

“What’re you doing?” Cameron hissed. His agitation possessed a note of panic.

“Nothing, Cammy. Just seeing how cleaning my house is going for you.” He pushed Cam an inch closer to the sink full of water. He braced himself, using all his strength to keep himself as upright as he could against his half brother’s heavier, more muscled body. Despite Cameron’s height and lanky sort of strength, Ethan had a clear advantage. This was nothing but a crude display of it, and they both knew it.

“Ethan,” Cam said seriously, as if this might just be rough play. “Let me up, man.”

Ethan pushed him closer still, so his forehead broke the surface tension and he whimpered, straining to stay above it. 

“Why should I?” 

“Because— I did what you asked. And I’m… you’re my brother.”

Ethan hummed in barely restrained glee, leaning close to the back of Cam’s neck. “You may have just carved out a new soft spot in me. But don’t brothers do this sort of stuff?”

With his mouth open to answer, Ethan dunked him under, submerging his face in water that was equal parts soap suds and slimy food debris. Cam struggled violently, but he was pinned underneath Ethan’s unbudging weight. After many long seconds, he let him up. 

All pretense of horseplay was gone, now. Cameron coughed wetly and gasped for air. He spat into the water in abject disgust. “Let go!”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Get the fuck OFF of me!” He sent a sharp elbow backwards into Ethan’s chest.

Ethan’s exhale of surprise trailed into a laugh. “That’s not nice.”

“Ethan…”

“Nicely, Cameron,” he said, and dunked him quickly in and out of the water again. 

Cameron sputtered and spat, blinking soap from his eyes. “Stop,” he begged, more like a sob than his earlier demands. “Just please stop, Ethan. Let me up.”

“Warmer.”

“Please,” he repeated, water dripping from his hair and the tip of his nose. He sounded wrecked. “I get it. You’re stronger than me. You don’t fucking like me. I give up. Please, get off of me.”

“That’ll work,” Ethan said, leaning over and kissing the back of Cameron's neck. He cringed in Ethan’s grip and sobbed between grit teeth.

Ethan let him go.

“Look at you,” he said, watching Cameron in the reflection of the kitchen window. “Soaking wet. Let’s get you into some dry clothes. C’mon, you can borrow something of mine.” 

Cameron didn’t move. Hands still on the edge of the sink, he stared straight ahead at Ethan’s reflection in the window, still breathing hard from the struggle.

Ethan tilted his head. “I was just fucking with you. I have to make sure you’re not a pussy.”

Cam turned to look at him over his shoulder. 

“And you’re clearly not,” Ethan continued. “Come on. I have a shirt for you.”

Reluctantly, Cameron followed him into his dark bedroom. Ethan motioned for him to strip, and Cam pulled his wet shirt gingerly over his head. Ethan approached with a dry one in hand, but stopped when he noticed the dark and angry bruising that still bloomed over his ribs from the beating he’d taken back home. He reached out to brush his fingers over the purples and yellows. Cam stiffened. 

“That hurt?” Ethan asked, his voice edging towards tenderness. Cam looked at him guardedly, his body language closed and hostile. Ethan touched two fingers to the bluish center of the bruise. Cameron closed his eyes. 

“Yeah, it does,” Ethan murmured, but continued to touch. He applied light pressure and watched Cameron’s breath catch. 

“I don’t mean to take it out on you,” he said gently, walking two fingers over the dark contours of the bruise so Cameron inhaled sharply. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Our father did. But that’s got nothing to do with us. Not anymore.”

“I thought I was fucked up,” Cam said, his eyes still closed, brows knit in a soft expression of pain. “But there’s something really wrong with you.”

“How fucked up are you?” Ethan asked, massaging two fingers in the center of Cam’s wounded ribs in the way he might touch a girl. 

Cameron took hold of his wrist and pushed it away. “Not that fucked up,” he said, and snatched the dry shirt from Ethan’s other hand.

Ethan smiled to himself as Cam retreated to the shower.

[gnome-adjacent-vagabond]

Doing a compromise and posting an EXCERPT of the Johnny and Einstein fic. Trigger warnings will be up here and in the tags; the story will be under the cut. Please let me know if I miss any!

A little context first: Jonathan and Einstein have been hiding out in a motel in South Bend for a long while, and they killed the motel owner (well, not killed, per se...he died of pneumonia). This is a moment of reflection from Einstein's pov in the wee hours after Jonathan has fallen into a very heavy sleep.

Trigger warnings: nongraphic violence, blood mention, surgery mention, drugging (noncon), non consensual touching, murder mention, crime in general, toxic relationship, obsession. This fic's content is looking askance at somnophilia but it isn't TECHNICALLY somnophilia.

Saving Face (working title)

Einstein liked him best when he was asleep.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t in awe of Jonathan Brewster when he was awake—he was! His purposeful gait, his burning eyes, his frightful and inquiring mind…the man was a terror and a wonder, but one to be observed from afar like a tiger in a zoo. It was incredible that he let Einstein get even this close to him. When he was asleep, though…well, that was a different story altogether. Einstein could get as close as he liked.

The moments when his companion actually closed his eyes and rested his mind were few and far between; Johnny slept infrequently. When he did, he slept light at best. At worst, he was half-awake, his heavy lids fluttering as he dozed in whatever corner they had tucked themselves into for the night. That said, his dreams never appeared troubled. He was ever so still, his breaths slow and steady with only the occasional sniff or sigh. He never snored, he never shifted—it was as if he died every night. The peacefulness of his slumber had been unsettling at first, especially that first time in London when they hid out in the abandoned tenement building. They’d been on the move without rest; Einstein hadn’t slept for two days. Yet Johnny had settled down in a moldy armchair and gone out like a light. After everything that had happened, he just went to sleep like it was nothing and woke up in good spirits the next day.

Einstein remembered fixating on the relative stranger’s hands in those forty-eight hours: They were long, curious things like great pale spiders at the end of either arm, ever restless and roving when he was awake. They were strong, too, as Einstein had seen when Johnny choked the life out of that poor young officer. He would later see they were also dexterous with a knife. During the night, though, they laid still and perfect in his lap or the arms of the chair, and Einstein had crouched at his side and gazed at them in admiration. These were what had made him stay—the chance to see those clever hands at work again was an intoxicating prospect. Now, five years on, he had watched them perform miracles over a hundred times.

Over the next half a decade, when the nightmares kept him from sleep or he was on first watch, Einstein stared at Johnny for hours, admiring his slack features as an artist admires one of his own paintings. Very little had actually changed about Johnny’s face, in his opinion, which was the result of meticulous effort on his part. Skin had been added and removed, stitches administered here and there, lips widened and shortened, but Einstein could still see his Johnny under all the other masks. It was most apparent in sleep, when the face and body were freed of pain and stiffness. Something remained of the aristocratic nose, the puppyish chin, the impish mouth. The mouth was most recognizable when Johnny smiled, rare as that was. He hadn’t done it often to begin with, and the constant facial reconstructions didn’t make it easy. Einstein had accomplished something great with every face—well, almost every face. He had always wanted Johnny to stay himself. He fought with him about every surgery, every change, and when he was inevitably shouted down he went to work with the intent to preserve, not to erase. The eyes, arresting in their intensity, were most important; Einstein couldn’t bear to alter such a captivating gaze. He turned Johnny’s features into a tribute to his soul, a work of art in which the centerpieces were two darkened windows. He strove to carve new odes into his muse each time he took the scalpel in hand, never repeating a previous modification and never failing to frame the eyes that were so dear to him with the utmost reverence. Johnny, whose aesthetic preferences were limited to shades of red and sanguinous pink, was none the wiser.

Sometimes, on the quietest nights when there was no chance of sirens jerking them both out of their dreams, Einstein would caress Johnny—never on the face, for that would wake him for sure. It was always the chest or arms. It was a surefire way to get himself hurt or killed—if he was ever caught he was sure he would wish he’d never been born. But, he reasoned, there was no safer time to be near the man to whom he had given his life, except perhaps when he was under anesthesia. Every so often he would slip Johnny a little something in his food or drink, just so he could actually hold him in his arms, cradle him and stroke his hair without worrying about the beast stirring. Johnny never found out, of course; Einstein wouldn’t be alive now if he had. Usually he woke up groggy and in high dudgeon a few hours later, angry that he’d overslept. Einstein would then depart, giddy and fearful until he got a few drinks in him. Johnny had all the fun, after all, and Einstein had been so loyal, so devoted…he deserved a reward. It wasn’t so much to ask, was it? To be held and pretend he was loved back.

It wasn’t a perfect arrangement by any means. The fear of waking him tainted his tenderness with caution and often shook his resolve so badly that he fled the area after only a minute. Even now as Einstein lay with his head against Johnny’s chest and their fingers interlaced, he trembled at the memory of those poor men in Chicago. Liars, traitors all three of them, but Johnny hadn’t had to use the Melbourne Method on the first two. He could have just snapped their necks. Einstein knew he could. But no, some things were personal, and Johnny liked a little fun now and then.

Einstein shivered and nestled further into the crook of his sleeping companion’s arm. He’d run out of schnapps about an hour ago, and though it had calmed his nerves somewhat he could feel that familiar chill creeping back to him. It was hard not to think about it when he had himself wrapped up in the very same arms that not two weeks ago had been wrist-deep in a heaving stomach. Einstein, his hands coated in bile and viscera from helping, had sat down and wept until Johnny boxed his ears so badly that one of them bled. But it wouldn’t do to think of these things now! It was quiet here, and relatively clean—they’d found a motel in South Bend, a rare treat, and Johnny had deemed it safe enough to sleep in.

[kissesforvamp]

TW: non-consensual touching, implied fantasy of rape/non-con, omegaverse

Okay, but what about a no upside down AU where Steve did bully Eddie? He shouted mean words, threw him against lockers, ostracised him, and made sure his reputation as the freak was cemented.

He helped to make Eddie’s life miserable.

And then in his senior year (Eddie’s second one) Steve presents. As an omega.

And suddenly he’s no longer the king.

Suddenly he’s been ‘let go’ from the basketball team, and the swim team, and the baseball team.

Suddenly, the attention he’s getting from his old friends is decidedly different.

He learns to keep his head down, make himself smaller and go unnoticed. He wears scent blockers and sits in his car at lunch and never makes eye contact with the alphas.

Around the same time, Eddie presents as an alpha, and his reputation changes too.

He’s still the freak, but now he’s scary. People avoid him. They can’t get away with pushing him around anymore, because he’ll push back harder.

He bares his teeth and growls, he never wears scent blockers (can’t afford them), and has learned how to make himself bigger and noticeable in a way that makes people leave him alone.

So, when newly meek Steve harrington seeks him out at the picnic bench one day looking for weed to help him sleep, Eddie can’t resist messing him around a little. Showing him his new place in the pecking order.

He’s mean to Steve. Condescending. And when Steve snaps back, he gets up and crowds Steve against the table. Uses his body to intimidate him. And from this close, even with the blockers, Eddie can smell the sharp hint of fear leaking through.

He finds he likes it.

When he grabs Steve by the face and shakes him, the feel of the omega trembling against him sets his blood on fire.

He feels drunk with power, drunk with lust, knowing he can do whatever he wants to Steve, and no one will care. No one will believe him, and even if they do, they’ll tell him it was his fault.

Eddie lifts a hand and peels away the patch on Steve’s neck. Steve is frozen and breathing hard. He yelps prettily when Eddie licks over his scent gland, lapping up his tangy pomegranate fear.

He doesn’t do more than that the first time. Steps back and gives Steve his weed. Still makes him pay for it.

He watches Steve all but run away, still shaking and afraid.

He knows he’ll see him again soon. Knows that now Steve’s an omega, his little revenge fantasy will be easy as pie to carry out.

[copics-and-renegades]

Whumptober 2023 Day 07: Examination (Goddamn Right You Should Be Scared Of Me)

Cutting-edge science, but unfortunately you are the specimen.

---

Angel Transformation Whump!!! Angel Transformation Research Whump!!! Yaaaaay!!!!! :D

Very very attached to the headcanon that Yuan got as untypically far as a half-elf in Sylvarant because he was, well, involved in angel transformation research. In the form of "wow I can't believe it worked this time journals will line up for my papers".

Had this finished and then afterwards a splendid discussion with the fellow Desians-and-Renegades enthusiasts crew about how touching the wings might feel. :3 It's their bodily mana taking shape. It must feel like someone reaching inside of them, in a way. :333

I like to liken it to eye contact xfmzngznf but that's just me. :'D

[shipcest-f-f]

soft noncon but the rapist cares more about your pleasure than their own, they are trying to find out what makes your feel good, they care about your pained faces and expressions, but instead of stopping, they just find something else, it won't stop until YOU climax

YES! You get it 🙂‍↕️☝️

[whumpbump]

🧤for baby

Surprise Exam

Cw: noncon touching and undressing, physical restraints, NSFW

As Whumpee tried to come to terms with their new life, BiBi and ZaZa entered the playroom with big fake smiles plastered across their faces.

“Hiiiii there, Little One.”

Whumpee looked up suspiciously.

“We have a guest! This is Dr. Burns.”

A tall man stepped into the doorway. This would not be good.

Dr. Burns looked down and smiled professionally, not sincerely. He placed his bag on the play table and said to BiBi and ZaZa “ok hold them down.”

Whumpee tried to book it to the door but was quickly subdued, pajamas removed, and held tight.

Dr. Burns checked in Whumpee’s ears, eyes, nose, pressed on their stomach a few times, listened to their heart and lungs, and finally when Whumpee thought it was over, Dr. Burns said “ok I’ll need the diaper removed for the orifice search.”

Hearing this, Whumpee’s eyes nearly popped out of their head.

BiBi removed the diaper while ZaZa kept their Baby still.

Snapping a pair of gloves on, the doctor smeared some lubricant on his finger and without hesitation or warning, shoved his finger up Whumpee’s anus.

The sharp pain of the foreign object startled Whumpee, yelping and squirming but contained in the arms of their ZaZa and BiBi.

The doctor felt around for what seemed like forever but after a few seconds, he seemed pleased with his lack of findings and pulled his finger out.

The doctor handed BiBi a wet wipe to clean the Baby’s bottom and said “all looks well, you have a healthy young Baby. Best of luck to you both.” With that, he left quickly.

As soon as the doctor left, BiBi and ZaZa sighed in relief. They let their Baby redress, patted them on the head, and left them to watch their television in horrified silence, alone.

[missbunnybunny]

❣💌[ I'm stravin' , Darlin' ]💌❣

Tw: non-con, dubcon, yandere, stalking, Somnophilia, Drugging, breeding, cockwarming.

A/n: this is my first detailed smut. It was going well at the start until I took a wrong turn and fell off a cliff. Possessive music got influence. I don't know what I wrote, am going to hell, his more delusional; than me. smh. ENJOY!

Note: this is a y/n x pretty yandere, female-bodied reader. Based on the songs Eat Your Young by Hozier and An Unhealthy Obsession by Blake Robinson, helped write this song. pet names such as Darlin, Love, and good girl. If I forgot something plz tell me.

╔═.✧ 🖤 ✧.═══════════╗ ▶︎ 𝕾𝖍𝖊’𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊. ╚═══════════.✧ 🖤 ✧.═╝ Part 2 ↥

You were exhausted. Who could blame you for being tired? You enjoyed your job as the owner of a small coffee shop, but you were drained, and your staff adored you.

When they had an emergency, you were incredibly nice to them and understanding. You didn't inquire. You just told them not to worry because you trusted them and they trusted you.

You didn't hesitate to assist your staff when an aggressive customer screamed and yelled at them. You listened to all sides of the story and kept your eyes on the cameras.

When they realized they didn't have a foothold, you politely requested them to go. But if they weren't kind enough to go, you merely called the cops. You would never let them get away with it; you had patience, but not that much.

So, after the day was done, you secured your doors and walked upstairs to your house. You double-checked that all the doors and windows were secured and that the security system was turned on and operational.

Taking a soothing bubble bath, dressing, and preparing for some much-needed rest. Closing your eyes and basking in the warm embrace of sleep. Your eyes slowly opened, and you attempted to move your fingers, but they wouldn't budge.

You had been under a lot of stress recently due to overwork, and sleep paralysis was now typical for you.

You could hear your door opening and the floors squeaking. The ebony form of a guy appeared. He was tall, and the broadness of his shoulders suggested that he worked out.

As you felt the bed drop at your feet, he sat at the end of it. His hand began to go up and down your leg gently. Coming to a halt at your thigh. He hummed to himself while pinching your inner thigh.

You uttered a grunt. He came to a halt and gazed up at you. As he peered down at your face, his face slowly entered the frame. "Oh, how pretty," he said, lovingly cupping your face. "I don't think I could hold myself back." H

is breath lightly fanning your face, he murmured. He kissed you, and you let out a frightened moan and screwed your eyes shut. He took advantage of the situation by inserting his tongue inside your mouth.

While squeezing your inner thigh, he hummed to himself. His hand creeps up and beneath your shirt from your thigh. He pulled your nipple and squeezed your breast.

He linked his mouth to yours with a thin string of saliva. He licked his lower lip. "You taste amazing," he replied with a smile.

He kissed your lips once more, and you felt him get out of bed. You sprang awake and took a glance around. Your clothing was in good condition and not flung around.

You raced to your restroom and looked in the mirror; there were no handprints anywhere on you. You rushed to your front door, terrified, and examined your alarm system; nothing was amiss. You were befuddled, and your thinking was jumbled.

You summarized it up to well: an odd wet dream, stress, and being punted up may all lead to unusual nightmares, especially when combined with sleep paralysis.

You sipped your favorite comfort drink, rubbed your temples, and took a few deep breaths. Exhale a sigh of relief as you feel your tension wash away.

You put on your business attire and prepare to open your shop. The business opened at 8 a.m., so you were there by 6:30, and by 7 a.m., staff began to arrive.

Everyone was having a fantastic time in the shop, which was filled with laughter and music. When the clock struck eight, you laughed, "It's eight, you know what to do. Hit it!"

Everyone queued up got into place, and you opened the store. Customers arrived quickly after that.

When a well-dressed man entered and approached the counter, your staff was busy. As you finished serving one of your usual clients, you noticed him and called, "I'll be with you in a minute."

"Thank you, hun." The kind old lady stated. You smiled at her and walked over to the counter to assist the man. "I'm sorry, did I keep you waiting too long?" you said as you set up the ordering machine.

"No, not at all." He informed you in hushed tones, he was attractive, you had to admit it. His voice seemed strangely familiar to you, but you couldn't place it.

But you shrugged it off and smiled as you asked him what he needed.

"A coffee with a cake," he answered politely. "Ah, what cake would you like sir, we have many options." you beam up at him, giving him a tiny smile. "Oh, what would you recommend, my dear?" he asks, quietly tapping the counter.

"Would red velvet cake be acceptable?" "It's one of my favorites," you inquired. He nodded, and you concluded his order with a small 'mm'. " Would that be all, sir?" "If so, this is your total," you say, pointing to the sum on the side of the register. " Yes." He responded and paid.

As soon as the order appears on the screen, one of your staff takes it while you assist with the other tasks and clients. Since the front of the store was fully filled, the man was directed to the back.

He could see the counter and you from where he was seated. The manager patted you on the shoulder and smiled at you as they spoke to you. You chuckle and smile as you remove your apron.

"I'm taking a break, everyone," you say. 'Okay, ma'am,' they respond. You step away from the counter and take a seat on one of the unoccupied stools close to his table. While on the phone with someone, you smile and giggle.

He can't stop staring at you. It was fortunate that he instructed his assistant to investigate you. He even postponed a lunch date with the daughter of a well-known corporation.

He didn't mind because he could tell she was attempting to catch his attention. He couldn't care less about how much her clothing cost or how it 'accidentally' revealed her chest. He'd rather be here, staring at your face and grin.

It was a coincidence that he first spotted you; one of his clients requested to meet at this cafe since they genuinely enjoyed your coffee and sweets. He couldn't get your face out of his mind and thoughts after that.

Your phone call had finished, and you turned to meet his gaze. You froze as you studied his face. He saw the fact and grinned.

You realized he hadn't touched his cake and sighed in despair. "Do you not like the cake, Sir?" You questioned him quietly, your gaze fixed on the plate. "Oh, no, it's not like that. "I was saving the cake for last because it was so delicious." He let you know quietly.

"Oh, okay," you said as you stood up and turned around. "Would you like to join me?" he offered, and you graciously accepted his invitation.

You spoke till your break ended. He became a regular client after that and frequently asked about your favorite treats to try.

It had been months since then, yet you still felt tired whenever you saw him. He was the final customer in the shop on one such occasion.

You sent your employees early, not wanting to keep them waiting so they didn't miss their bus or train.

"It's closing time, Mister Blackwell; you should go home," you said. "I told you to call me James, Darling." He told you firmly. " However, I agree. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you." While drinking his drink, he informed you.

"Would you mind joining me before I leave?" He remarked this while pointing to the seat next to him. you exclaimed, "You are extremely persistent." You shook your head and set your favorite drink on the table.

Turning around and laying a little slice of cake next to your drink. You had no idea what he had placed into your drink by the time you sat next to him. He grinned as you took a sip of your drink, seeing your expression shift.

He watched as your eyes gradually closed and you collapsed on the table, spilling your cup on the floor. "What…did you do?" You questioned him carefully, feeling yourself nodding off. "Don't worry, my love, I'll take care of you."

As you eventually slid away, you heard him declare. You wake up with him twirling his tongue at your clit, then cat licking your entrance, going back and up to your clit, before his tongue went into your pussy, tasting every inch of it.

You eventually let out a whimper as the knot in your gut finally split and you filled his mouth with your cum. "You're awake, I hope you don't mind," he whipped his mouth with his palm. "I was dying to taste you." He stated.

His gaze moved up and down your body, forming an image of you in his mind. You attempted to speak, but all you got was a broken wail. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and you were entirely bare to him.

Your eyes began to water, and silent tears streamed down your cheeks. " Why are you crying, Darlin?" He stated this as he licked your tears away before giving you a ravenous kiss, His tongue quickly claiming your mouth.

He released your lips as he stated, "It will take a while until you can move again, but don't worry, I'll make you feel good." He gently graded your hand before bringing it to the bulge on his pants.

"This is what you did to me." He talked as he stroked your palm up and down his bulge, letting out a groan as he began to accelerate.

He stared down at you, hungry, and proceeded to remove his outfit. He was now entirely exposed for you to see. " Oh, very lovely. I'm curious how you'll look after I slit you in half on my dick." He murmured this as he sank his thick fingers into your pussy, causing your back to arch.

When he noticed your body jerked up and your jaw fell open, he smiled even more.

He discovered your sweet spot! He curled his fingers in the same place over and over. You felt that familiar tight knot in your gut emerges, prompting you to tighten your walls around his fingers.

"That's it, cum on my fingers like the good girl you are," he said. Your walls flutter subconsciously at his words, "Oh, you like being called a good girl?" he questioned, advancing faster.

Your moans and whimpers sounded like music to his ears. He was itching to sink his dick into you. You came undone under him with one more stroke, cumming on his fingers and hand.

He took his hand away and brought it up to his mouth, licking your juices. "You taste divine." He exhaled.

He positioned himself at your entrance, tapping his dick on your assaulted lips. He graded your legs and pushed them on your chest in a typical mating press position, and you could plainly see his pink tip and how enormous he was.

Once he got you the way he wanted you, you felt the swelling tip of his cock press against your tight entrance and buckle his hip. He bottoms out in one push, his pelvis colliding with your entrance.

He took your breath away since he was so large. And, as he claimed, he was splitting you in half with his dick. "Don't pass out on me, Darlin," he remarked, softly patting your cheek with his palm." The fun is just getting started," he remarked as he kissed you on the lips.

Allowing you to get used to his size before proceeding. You were so tight! And you are his and his alone.

His cock began to slide in and out of your tight pussy, as if you were nothing more than a fleshlight at his disposal. "Y/n I'm going to make you only mine," your desperate cries mixed with groans as you sought to stop him.

The sound of skin smacking against skin got louder as he thrust harder and harder. Your muscles were absolutely spasming, and your eyes could hardly fixate or focus on his sweat-splattered face above you.

So this was how it felt to be with a man like him, putting you precisely where you should have always been.

BELOW HIM, you were groaning, saliva flowing from the corners of your lips, and your eyes rolled up every time his cock brushed your cervix and his pelvic bone stroked against your swollen clit.

Your eyes met his and he kissed you passionately; the longer the two of you kissed, the more his hips appeared to press into yours. The headboard of the bed was crashing fiercely into the wall, adding yet another obscene sound to the symphony.

You could feel his dick pounding against your walls; it was clear he was nearing his climax, which was going to totally fill you up to the point of leaking, and then fuck a baby into your womb.

As he furiously pounded into you, his hands came to your waist and had a tight grasp on you. You felt James base expand and get even bigger only seconds before his hot sperm was spurting into your womb, and the veins surrounding his dick were pulsating against your walls, making you gasp for the nth time.

The sensation of being totally filled was so intense that you almost ended up cumming again.

He lay down next to you, panting and allowing you to collect your breath. As your body was extremely sore, he began spooning you from behind his cock, still inside you.

"Sleep, Love, you must be tired," he kissed your neck. I'll prepare something for you in the morning." You were exhausted, and your half-lined eyelids eventually closed as you slept off. James grabbed up his phone and called over your sleeping figure.

The phone rang till someone answered, "Ray?" "Did you do what I asked?" he inquired calmly. "Yes, I made sure to delete the footage of you breaking into the home months ago, as well as the alarm system," Ray stated gently. "Perfect," James smiled, hanging up the call as he fell asleep next to you.

After so long of only admiring you from afar and secretly stroking you as you slept, he was overjoyed to finally hold you in his arms.

Don't worry, you can have a better life because He will take excellent care of you. "It'll take some getting used to, but we'll make it work." were his final thoughts as he fell asleep affectionately sound asleep with you in his arms.

Am gonna dig a hole and hide. bye....👩🏽‍🦯

Update there’s a new hole to hide in now 🕳️ 👩🏽‍🦯

[howlsofbloodhounds]

WHO'S IN THE MOOD FOR ME SPEWING RANDOM HEADCANONS BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO MAKE THEM IN AN ACTUAL ASK

if you dont who cares you gettin them anyways 🫵

Nightmare is constantly cold, dream is constantly warm

Nightmare continuesly cuddled up with his human friends because of that, humans have body heat, he doesnt, therefore he will steal yours and you better shut your trap about he's cold because he knows that. Deal with it.

When they were younger nightmare and dream used to cuddle up whenever possibly because they're hot and cold so they balance eachother out

(You know the thing of signanothername where nightmare went 'back' to his previous form? Yeah heres some about that)

In my head it isnt nightmares legs thats fucked up its his back, i mean he got like 4 tendril thingies his back has gotta be fucked up

(Gonna use my mothers back problems as reference for this 😎)

He can walk on his own, on bad days it may look a bit more like a limp but offer him help and he will hiss at you, quite literally

Especially right after the whole going back he was weaker then before, both because yk, he went back to his previous form, and injuries (they were probably battling, so like, yeah) so after internally panicking he decided to start judging dream for everything, and not hesitating to tell him

If he cant hurt you physically he'll hurt your feelings

Nightmare continuesly hisses at anyone who comes 6 feet near him, if they keep getting closer he'll bite

The ghosts are still with him, they kept throwing stuff at people whenever they came close to nightmare

Nightmare hissing is a hilarious image. But of course he’d been an asshole even when he’s injured or otherwise bedridden. Dream forget about his ass ong. /j

But yeah I can definitely see nightmare having fucked up legs and a messed up back. his corruption seemed pretty violent, especially for a 6 year old. (It still kills me how the twins were only 6. like why tf these villagers abusing and using and manipulating these babies. like what the hell guys)

And I love how the twins cuddle because they run different temperatures, and also likely because they can only really trust or give touch with eachother.

if they went to the villagers for anything like that, nightmare would’ve been shunned or hurt, and Dream would’ve only likely been given a hug if he did or gave something to them first; and perhaps the touches and hugs would go on longer than he wants.

{ @brokenramunebottle }

[citrus-the2nd]

Inspekta touching someone...

But WHO...

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 25: I Will Wait

~1580 words

CW: drugging, noncon undressing, nonsexual nudity, noncon touch, medical whump, forced institutionalization, ED mention, negative self-talk

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

~~~

DR MANDAL: I’d like to know how you like the staff and faculty here so far.

M BECK: Oh, they’re great. Everyone’s been wonderful.

DR MANDAL: No trouble at all?

M BECK: None.

DR MANDAL: That’s good to hear. What about the other patients, do you like your roommates?

M BECK: Sure, they’re alright.

DR MANDAL: No issues?

M BECK: We all wake up with nightmares, so it’s not like it’s fair to complain about that.

DR MANDAL: So no issues, but do you like them?

M BECK: I think so. I think everyone here hates themselves so much, it’s hard to connect with other people.

DR MANDAL: That’s very observant. Would you include yourself in that?

[0:26]

M BECK: Yeah.

~~~

The intake process was terrifying. Whatever drugs he’d been given had worn off enough for Simon to be awake, but not enough for him to resist as he was manhandled by orderlies out of the car and into a hulking rock of a building - the title of Fort wasn’t just for show. He didn’t have much time to look before he was inside, lifted onto a gurney and wheeled through a dizzying maze of hallways and into a cold room. Broad-shouldered orderlies leaned over him, and started taking off his clothes. One unzipped his coat, while another sat him up. The coat was jerked over his shoulders and off, and dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Then his turtleneck was peeled off, his arms gripped and guided by strong hands. He whimpered and flinched when they touched his skin directly for the first time, and he distantly registered a laugh. His upper half was dropped back onto the gurney and they set to work on his lower half. Someone pulled off his boots and socks while someone else started unbuttoning his jeans. This sent a shock of panic through Simon, he wanted to tell them to stop, but he couldn’t form the words. He couldn’t form coherent thoughts either, instead his head was overtaken by wordless waves of fear and shame and embarrassment as they pulled his pants and underwear down. A hand briefly grabbed his ass but Simon couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not. Tears slipped out and ran down his temple and into his ear. He couldn’t even move to brush them away, much less stop anything that was happening. Someone whistled when his thighs were revealed.

“Bloodbag.”

“Yup.”

“Fuckin’ idiot.”

A vague figure ran a hand over his ribs.

“ED watch?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll be deciding that.”

The orderlies backed off, and a gray-haired man in a doctor’s coat took over, briskly taking Simon’s vitals and shining lights in his eyes, ears, and mouth. He manually pulled at Simon’s eyelids and jaw himself, and didn’t address Simon as he worked. Then, Simon could only lie there and watch as the worst happened: the doctor received a camera from an orderly and started taking pictures. His face. His scars. The bites. The flash of the camera left Simon blinded and dazed. The doctor barked at the orderlies to flip him over and Simon heard the camera click as he captured his backside as well. Then he was dropped onto his back again, a sheet was thrown over his lower half, and the room was suddenly quiet and empty.

His head flopped to the side on the thin padding of the gurney, mouth agape. Tears and drool slowly leaked out, out of his control. He felt disgusting. Violated. Scared. This had to be some sort of mistake. There was no way Chris would send him to someplace like this. Your boss and your friends were so very worried, Kelly had said - Gina, Amber, and Devon had had a hand in this as well. He needed to talk to Chris. This all had to be some horrible misunderstanding. It had to be.

He wanted Matthew.

He wanted to go home.

Maybe you made a mistake.

Simon drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, but was finally brought back by his stomach growling loudly. He’d lost a lot of his appetite over the last month, but even he could only go so long without eating. He found he could move his arms, and legs, and even slowly sit up. He discovered some thin, scratchy clothes folded at his feet: a long sleeved t-shirt and elastic-waisted pants, both a sickly shade of green, and started the laborious process of putting them on. He felt sick, dizzy, cold, and hungry, and his limbs moved half a second slower than he wanted them to. He had just pulled up the pants and was standing unsteadily against the gurney when the door opened. He flinched back, grabbing the gurney for support. The large redheaded orderly that entered looked him up and down.

“McKenna?”

“Yes?” Simon breathed.

“With me.” He stepped aside and held the door open. Simon tentatively scooted through under his gaze.

“Where-?”

“Left,” the man ordered.

Simon started walking to the left down the hall, but his legs wobbled under him and he staggered into the wall. The large man caught his upper arm, gripping it hard enough to bruise, and dragged him along.

“That hurts, you’re hurting me,” Simon pleaded. No response. “Where are we going?” Nothing. They passed by more doors and under more fluorescent lights, as well as beady-eyed cameras mounted in high corners. The surveillance reminded Simon of Lara’s house, and his heart pounded. He stumbled to keep up. “I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday, can -”

The orderly abruptly stopped and slammed Simon into the wall, pinning him there with an arm across his chest that knocked all the air out of Simon’s lungs.

“Don’t ask me for shit,” he growled, “Don’t ask anyone for shit, just do what you’re told, and shut the fuck up.”

Simon nodded, gasping for air. The orderly held him there for a long, threatening moment, clearly enjoying the power trip. Then it was back to being dragged.

After a few more confusing turns, they passed through a heavy security door and into an open room with round tables and scattered chairs, occupied by a handful of other people in the same green outfits as Simon. Orderlies were dotted around the room, observing as patients drew in coloring books and played checkers. It reeked of mildew and sick. Cameras stared from every corner.

“Don’t make any friends,” the redhead whispered in his ear, and released his arm. Simon staggered a couple steps forward, clutching at his aching bicep. Some of the other patients turned in their seats to watch him with languid curiosity.

Simon hugged himself tightly, breathing fast. He didn’t know what the orderly’s warning meant. He didn’t know what to do. He looked around the room in desperation and his heart leapt when he saw the back of someone in pink scrubs - a nurse, not a patient or orderly. The pink reminded him of Tammy at the clinic, and how kind she’d been. He wove through the tables to where she was talking to another patient.

“Excuse me,” Simon tapped her on the shoulder, “I just got here, I don’t know what’s going on, can you help me?”

She turned around slowly, her thin eyebrows high.

“Okay, number one, do not touch the faculty or staff,” she lectured.

“Oh, sorry, I -”

She snapped her hand closed in front of his face.

“Ah-ah! I don’t want to hear it. Who did your intake?”

“I didn’t - I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Do you know your room number?”

“N-no.”

 She huffed.

“Fine, I’ll look everything up for you. What’s your name, do you at least know that?”

“Simon. McKenna.”

“Thank you.” She strode away, ponytail bouncing, and exited through a security door that she opened with a keycard. Simon watched her go, pressing his knuckles to his mouth.

“That’s Linda,” said the patient she had been talking with - a very tall, very skinny man hunched over a hand of cards. Two others sat opposite him, an older man with a significant tremor and a boy younger than Simon, barely an adult.

“You don’t want to mess with her. I’m Chett, you wanna play cards with us?” the skinny man twanged, and grinned black and yellow teeth in an eerily familiar way that made Simon shrink back.

“S-sorry, no thank you,” he stammered.

“C’mon, sweet little thing like you needs friends!” Chett cajoled, but Simon was already backing away. He found a mercifully empty table and slouched down in the slippery plastic chair to wait for Linda. His heart thrummed and his eyes darted around the room at the other patients still giving him sidelong glances. None of them looked particularly friendly. The orderlies, on the other hand, looked downright hostile. They were all large men, some even larger than Matthew, and they glowered down over the patients like a bank of storm clouds.

Matthew. Simon felt tears spring to his eyes again. Hopefully wherever Matthew was sent was better than this. He put his head down on the table, sheltering under his arms. His mind replayed his last moments with Matthew. Their last kiss.

I’ll come get you.

Only a little while.

It’ll be okay.

You fucking idiot.

Regret started to bubble up in his stomach.

Shouldn’t have gone to the clinic.

He winced at the thought. Matthew, the real Matthew, was back and alive, and he was regretting that?

Worthless.

You deserve to be here.

~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper