#THE DEAD DOVE POTENTIAL

[matchboxartist]

my reaction to 114.5

[lambmotifz]

once again thinking about dean’s hell trauma & sam’s cage trauma. dean accepting his role as a torturer in hell and ending up enjoying it. sam coming back from the cage even more addicted to pain. sam needing pain to keep lucifer away and begging dean to hurt him. dean getting flashbacks of hell. feeling incredibly guilty as he cuts sam’s skin and realizes that some sick part of him is enjoying it. but he also knows he’s the only one who can do this for sam. he’s been made perfect for this

[landoffreaksandfrogs]

POV: you are eridan

[necrotic-nephilim]

https://www.tumblr.com/necrotic-nephilim/761747687384252416/i-dont-care-how-much-you-hate-me-you-need-to?source=share

so i'm imagining that tim gets free

(maybe it's steph who's on the outs with tim and doesn't believe him about bruce but sure as fuck doesn't approve of whatever the hell this is or maybe it's damian who's jealous that tim is getting any so much of dick's attention despite the fact that he's the heir and robin)

regardless tim gets the fuck out of gotham and goes on his international art theft adventure to find bruce

unfortunately for everyone dick processes to lose his shit and now damian (and steph to a lesser extent) is doing for dick what tim did for bruce

also a lot of heroes are drawing parallels between this and b reaction after jason died

anyway tim gets his proof (and get saved by jason bc jason's looking at dick all "this is really creepy actually and i don't want you anywhere near tim despite how bad our relationship is")

tim then goes to green arrow with his proof because he knows that man would call dick out no matter what costume he's wearing and he actually does an ok job with all the kids he picks up

there's a jla meeting and dick sees tim and is just as unstable as tim guessed he would be and it's pinging everyone's radar as A Problem now

but obviously they get bruce back and no this is his problem bc literally everyone in the league is like "pls keep dick away from tim, his behavior has passed weird and gone into extremely unsettling"

i can't see what happens next bc i can't imagine bruce actually being help but i can see him being a disaster when he tries and that would be funny

this is SO good anon i love all of these things based on that fic so much aaaa

personally when i was writing it, i imagined Jason being the one to break Tim free. not out of wanting to save Tim or anything, but more so seeing it as a chance to make Tim owe him, and just to fuck with Dick. Jason will cause problems because He Can, and while i don't think he would particularly care for the moral implications of Dick holding Tim hostage (Jason was morally all over the place during Dick's Batman era i fear) he's just morbidly curious. that said the idea of Steph being the one to do so is also fun, because for her it *would* be the moral issue as well as caring about Tim. i think the most fun option is somewhere in the middle, where Jason and Steph are forced to team up, each with different end goals and not trusting each other whatsoever. so when they succeed and get Tim safely out of Dick's hold, there's a deep disagreement and slight scuffle over what to do now, Jason trying to manipulate Tim further against Dick and onto his side, whereas Steph is just prioritizing Tim's safety. i think it's fun if Tim is slightly mentally broken, just from how long he was held captive and the realization of Dick's feelings at the end fo the fic. so he's distrusting of anyone he's once trusted, even Steph, that he just slips away to focus on getting Bruce back, leaving both Jason and Steph trying to chase Tim. and course, Dick.

because Dick would of course try to get Tim back, again and again. Damian is trying to reel Dick back, just because he wants Dick's attention and he does sort of believe they should focus on Gotham. and then Steph is also trying to distract Dick to protect Tim. so everyone's tail spinning in the most complicated game of cat and mouse. Steph and Damian are forced on the same side, trying to get Dick to focus on Gotham instead of Tim, just for now. Steph is promising to keep an eye on Tim, Damian is insisting Gotham needs Dick's attention and combined, they're able to at least keep his immediate focus away from Tim, giving Tim time to find his proof. Jason having to save him is just *fun*, because it reinforces how sort of helpless Tim is. he's not up on his training and his become soft and with Dick's need to catch up to him eventually, it puts him in a vulnerable spot he would *hate.* he'd despise needing to be saved by Jason of all people. it'd fuck him up so bad, because all the bad things Jason is saying about Dick are technically true and somehow, the world is so flipped upside down that Jason is the reasonable one. i think it'd make Tim isolate more and more, distancing himself from the Batfamily, even the ones he should trust like Steph. sure, he's on the outs with her (likely still upset from the Search For A Hero arc) but she's looking out for him. and maybe he knows it, deep down, but Tim is just terrified of trusting anyone associated with the Bat name.

and since he can't go to the Batfam with his proof, him going to Oliver is *so* fun. i adore any concept where Oliver is the one to notice something is very wrong in the Batfam i swear anon it's like you're connected to my BRAIN. because sure Oliver doesn't *like* Bruce, but even Oliver knows this is fucked up. the story Tim tells him is a horrifying one. Oliver has always done right by his kids, or at least tried his best to. so to know what Dick pulled is horrifying. there's this implicit trust the entire hero community has in Nightwing that would get badly shaken up and i think that's fun. the Justice League meetings about it would be a shitshow. someone like Clark who's as close to Dick as he is would want to at least hear Dick out, try to understand his point of view. maybe Dick was in the wrong, but he had to have been doing this out of a place of concern and Tim's just twisted up about Dick's intentions. at the very least, trust in Dick is shattered but no one can agree on what to do, if they can do anything at all. it's agreed to keep TIm safe and away from Dick and long talks are had with Dick, but Dick is disturbingly good at being charming and manipulative, convincing them all he's sorry and he knows he took it too far, it's just the stress of the mantle that got to him.

and Bruce coming back would further complicate things in such fun ways. because Bruce will *always* protect and side with Dick. yes, he's worried about Tim, but he refuses to let any negative blowback hit Dick for this. because sure, Bruce would've never done that, but also, Bruce has done equally shitty things so, he's also not going to fully question it. Dick made a judgment call in the heat of the moment, and now, Bruce is going to defend his right to do so. it sends the League even more out of control, because they didn't expect Bruce to be so deeply on Dick's side. the phase "what would Bruce think?" got thrown at Dick a lot by all of them and now, well. they look a bit like fools for it because Bruce has made it clear what he thinks is that Dick had the right to make the call he thought was best as Batman. so while Dick is socially exiled, he doesn't face any *real* consequences. he's still in hero society and is respected as Nightwing and allowed to exist on the League. Dick just patiently waits for it all to blow over because eventually, there's always something more important to focus on that will make people forget about this outside of just a weird bad mistake Dick made.

and the longterm for TIm is fun. because I think he'd keep his distance from Gotham and Bludhaven, mostly keeping around Oliver, given Oliver is one of the few League members still refusing to let it all go, and it gives Tim some kind of safety net. but i think Dick would still try to pursue Tim. Dick would convince himself he just went about it the wrong way, he came on a little too strongly and he can still fix it. he keeps harassing Tim and trying to get Tim to like him back, making it clear he has no real regret for his actions. i think it's fun if Tim is forced to fake a relationship with someone else to get Dick to leave him alone. maybe Jason, maybe Steph. (honestly, this being JayTimSteph could be fun) and that fake relationship ends up developing into something more real, which would make Dick *insanely* jealous. i'm torn between Dick actually taking it too far (possibly forcing himself on Tim) or keeping his distance because both are fun. i'm partial to him forcing himself on Tim, just for the fucked up non-con that Tim has to cope with, knowing nothing he does will get Dick to leave him alone. he learns the best ways to stay safe, but it essentially kills his ability to have a vigilante career bc it puts him too out in the open. he takes a more Oracle-esque role (Tim working with the Birds of Prey could be a lot of fun) and always lives in some kind of fear of Dick catching up to him. it's so fun and fucked up that even when Tim escapes, he doesn't really and he knows it.

[peachm1lkk]

Pairing — Samuel x Reader

Warnings — Implied Kidnapping + Implied Self harm nothing graphic however, can be seen as platonic or romantic, otherwise just Samuel reminiscing about his old relationship with Reader

a/n — Tfw you kidnap your ex bestie and then proceed to be shocked that they hate you, also my first drabble length fic

Samuel hates you.

He hates the way you breathe, the way you talk, the way you carry yourself as if the world didn’t crush you every second of every day. But what he hates most of all is the way you look at him now.

It wasn’t always like this. He remembers middle school, back when your eyes softened at the sight of him—gentle, wide, filled with a kind of love that made his stomach churn. It wasn’t fair, the way you looked at him back then, so unguarded and open. The memory clings to him, especially the nights you and Delilah dragged him out into the dark, giggling and alive with energy, as though the world wasn't the disgusting, hateful place that it was. He hated that too, how infectious it was, how you made him feel something against his will.

And then there was the day he had to leave. That look in your eyes, a somber ache that seemed so genuine, made him feel like the center of the world for just a moment. The way you hugged him, your arms tight as though you actually cared, was unbearable. He hated it all, every bit of it.

But now? Now he’d kill to see you look at him like that again. To see anything other than that disgust veiled with pity—the look that cuts deeper than your words ever could. He’d trade his soul to erase the memory of you scratching and biting at him, screaming that you weren’t home, not with him. Or the glossy emptiness in your gaze when he was forced to sedate you after that night he desperately wishes to scrub from his brain—when your wrists were rubbed raw and bleeding, the floorboards seeping up the dripping crimson and leaving behind the stains of his crime.

God, he hates how much he wants it back. Those soft, loving eyes he despised so much. Even if it made him sick, at least it wasn’t this. At least it wasn’t indifference.

[ailius-suffers-through-art]

Half-asleep brain strikes once again.

(Set in the middle of unwound future. Think that one official art with Clive holding the wrapped rose. Its Clive trying to teach Luke how to do that.)

[Image description: Clive is teaching Luke how to wrap a rose. Luke says "Thanks, Dad!" while smiling, then proceeds to realize that he just called what he knows to be his future self, his dad. Clive is looking at Luke while having A Moment™ because he has many parental issues, is entirely unprepared to be a father figure, and is about to try and level London. He says "ah". Clive then has an early life crisis while Luke hides behind his hat in embarrassment. End Description]

[5eraphim]

mercs on the dark web headcanons

(dark!characterization below/general taboo dark web subject mater. proceed at your own discretion.)

Sniper

red room live streamer

Women fear him, the CIA want him.

Aside from profiting on the mutilation of the lives of the innocent he's a regular poacher and sells exotic/protected animals hides, meat, or sometimes live specimens.

Scout

Amphetamines manufacturer and distributer. He regularly gets high off his own supply who's gotten into run-in with the police as far back as he can remember.

Got scammed out of $10k buying a fake Alligator skin couch.

Big fan of Sniper's live streams, but doesn't have the guts to sit through the truly grizzly parts.

Pretends to know how Bitcoin works.

Spy

Hitman for hire.

Everyone hates his ass because he acts like a narc, and no one can trust him. But despite his unknown affiliations and methods, he always gets the job done.

Has seen an unfortunate amount of political figure's nudes searching through confidential documents.

Medic

Black market organ harvester and consumer.

The most likely to have Reddit threads about himself and his infamy. (maybe he would sneakily encourage this some how? he would really thrive off of that kind of attention.)

He's the only person Sniper's ever collaborated with and featured as a second party torturing a victim in a live stream.

Likely has some insane history with the human experimentation crowd.

OG member of the cannibal cafe

Pyro

She has no idea how to access the dark web, but watches a lot of "Lost Media" videos, creepypastas and pirates cartoons and anime. She assumes that's a part of what everyone else is talking about

Engie and Demo

Producing, modifying and manufacturing wildly unsafe and unregulated: firearms, explosives, chemical weapons- maybe even automobiles.

They don't do this for the rush, or the money, or the feeling of power; but rather out of an almost pure-hearted love for their craft.

Have somehow never been raided by the FBI or the DEA

Soldier

His special interest is HiddenWiki articles about terrorism and conspiracy theories.

No one understands how he managed to access the deep web in the first place.

Bulk buys his percs here.

Heavy

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ My best guess is he's buying some of the animal meat Sniper sells. He doesn't seem like someone who would care much for digital carnage.

[theearlgreymage]

“Relax, my darling,” Erwin’s voice travels up his body in prickling waves. “Let me take care of you.” Erwin does take care of him. He’s given him more than he ever could have wanted in the years they’ve known each other. Erwin makes him feel loved. The voices are silent when Erwin leaves after a light breakfast. They know what they’ve done, Levi can feel their malicious grins plastered up the length of his spine. Deep rooted sentiment and fervor have ensnarled themselves in the gaps between his ribs. Blooms of white Carnations, Wisteria, and Tulips have pierced his lungs and the thorns of roses have nested themselves in his heart. Sprouts of undying love have planted themselves so deeply within him, that he doesn’t even know where to begin in digging them out — can’t imagine plucking them free without removing a vital part of himself with them.

So, I may have gone off the deep end this time. Kind of wrote my first Dead-Dove fic. And it kind of possessed me for nearly two weeks while I wrote all 90 pages of it.

Anyways. It's a lot. The tags are a bit spoiler-y, but I do recommend looking at them before reading this.

I also recommend pouring yourself a glass (or bottle) of wine while you read this one.

Enjoy!!

Read it here on AO3

Additional information is below the cut ✂

Chapters: 3/3

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman & Erwin Smith

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe, Moblit Berner, Mike Zacharias, Nanaba (Shingeki no Kyojin), Keith Shadis, Eren Yeager, Kuchel Ackerman, Kenny Ackerman, Special Operations Squad | Levi Squad, Original Special Operations Squad | Original Squad Levi, New Special Operations Squad | New Squad Levi, Squad Hange (Shingeki no Kyojin), Petra Ral, Oluo Bozado, Eld Jinn, Gunther Schultz, Dot Pixis, Darius Zackly, Krisa Lenz | Historia Reiss

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ackerbond | Ackerman Bonding (Shingeki no Kyojin), Psychosis, Hallucinations, Loss of Bodily Autonomy, Loss of Virginity, Dubious Consent, Sexsomnia, Loss of Control, Forced Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Abortion, Major Character Injury, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Gender Dysphoria, Forced Detransitioning, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Trans Levi Ackerman, Falling in Love, Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Oral Sex, Riding, Breeding, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Drunking sex, Kissing, Boys Kissing, First Kiss, Rough Sex, Gay, Bottom Levi Ackerman, Top Erwin Smith, Bottom Levi Ackerman/Top Erwin Smith, Unreliable Narrator, dark ackerbond, Fucked Up, Cock Warming, The Paths, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Necrophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Gaslighting, No Beta We Die Like Pixis - Doing What We Loved to the Bitter End

Summary:

The gravity of the whole conversation strikes Levi then. It weighs him down with vulnerability and emotions he’s not equipped to handle. Erwin’s offering him something he’s never held before, something he doesn’t know that Erwin’s ever even offered before.

“Okay..” Levi settles back into sheets. He lets Erwin peel their clothes off, one article at a time, and then rolls onto his side. Erwin pulls him in for another kiss.

It’s easy, like this, for Levi to relax. The voices have retreated to a hushed corner in his mind, leaving him to bask in Erwin’s attention, uninterrupted. Erwin’s kisses are serene, with little flicks of his tongue and docile fingers tracing the slope of his spine. Tension seeps from Levi’s muscles, he feels unbound — malleable. Everything is saccharine, as though he’s been dipped in golden honey with the way Erwin devours him in the most tender way possible. He has to hold onto Erwin, twist his fingers in pale blonde locks and grip sun-kissed skin. If he could, he’d carve both of them open, pry both of them apart at the seams, just to stitch them back together with a curved needle and silken thread.

[taintedsoulspromo]

SURPRISE!

After tonight's showing of #Wicked we will be airing the newest episode of High Potential!

High Potential: S1 Ep 8

The team investigates a mysterious young girl who was found attacked on a beach; Morgan begins to let her guard down on her date with Tom; Soto comes one step closer to finding out what happened to Roman. Join By Clicking Here

[krysmcscience]

Hey, look, it's this thing again, only with a whole new chapter!

Oh, but what's that? It's not ten thousand words like I said it would be? You are absolutely correct! It is now just shy of eight thousand, because I had to split it apart from what was on track to become fifteen thousand.

There's some worldbuilding in this new chapter, Oh Boy!

Also, trigger warning, Shio exists <:)

If you like this at all, go thank @anightydragon for making me want to write more of it~ OuO

(Psst, @crinklytinfoil, stupid squishboi alert)

[ennw1]

ok but what if i cosplay hakuri kagurabachi

[necrotic-nephilim]

jaybrusteph. steph and bruce fuck on jason's grave, jason and bruce fuck on stephanie's grave, steph and jason fucking on bruce's grave. threesome where stephanie gets 2 cocks up her ass. they keeo her tied up in a secret part of the cave fir a week with a vibrator on her clit at low vibration and a fuck machine pounding her ass. they share her for another week straight and by the end of it she's mentally checked out and her face id smeared with mascara and cum. maybe they bring cass over once, and all of steph's holes are occupied at the same time. i want her to keep cumming so hard she walks with a limp for a month. she goes on patrol with a butt plug holding in both of their loads. remote controlled vibrators. just the kinkiest shit possible with these 3. any time bruce and jason fight, they take it out on steph. they both try to fuck her mouth and she chips a tooth and dislocates her jaw but they keep going

i've been thinking about this for *days*. bc idk how you intended this anon, but to me it reads as *delightful* non-con and *super* fucked up with grooming vibes. like in my head, i picture it as Bruce dealt with enough problems when Jason came back from death and he *really* doesn't feel like doing a repeat. so when Steph comes back, even if Babs gives her blessing for Steph to be Batgirl, Bruce doesn't trust it and he definitely doesn't like the idea of Steph wearing a Bat. he's been down this road before and this time, he's not making the same mistakes.

so he tells her she's allowed to be Batgirl but this time, there are more Rules. maybe he had a thing with her when she was Robin but Bruce feels like he obviously wasn't strict enough so, he sets new rules this time around. and Steph has no choice but to agree bc she wants to be Batgirl, she feels like she needs to prove herself again.

i love the idea of the mindbreak the first few weeks, too. esp if there are aphrodisiacs or some kind of drugs involved to keep her in a haze where it's all she can think about until she rlly just. breaks. and is okay with it and has no concept how fucked up it is. Bruce invites Jason just because he'll try anything to pacify Jason at this point, and maybe he had a fucked up thing with Jason already and they needed a sub as a buffer.

i also think it's fun if patrolling and missions are the one place Steph has an escape from all the sexual control. so she really leans into being Batgirl bc it's all she has so when they start making her wear plugs and vibrators out it breaks her a little bit. even as Batgirl, her life will revolve around pleasing Jason and Bruce. and Bruce is telling her that she has no idea how much she's helping with this, he's showing her numbers about how Red Hood has been much less lethal since this all started to really get in her head about how this is a duty and it's a favor that she's doing for Bruce and he's so thankful for it, he almost convinces her that she agreed to this somewhere along the way. so she agrees and is submissive when Jason is getting rougher and rougher with her until joints are dislocating and she's crying and doesn't even have the words to ask for it to stop so she can get a breather.

also like the idea of Bruce and Jason arguing while Steph is on a patrol and it's Jason who finds Steph first and without any sort of warning forces some kind of aphrodisiac drug into her mouth and makes her swallow, calmly telling her she has about an hour before it'll kick in so she better wrap up whatever she's doing and hope she gets to Jason's base so he doesn't have to find her and fuck her wherever she ends up when it kicks in-

and all the bruises and injuries she gets from the sex are explained away by vigilante work. i'm also really into the idea of like, gradual body modification without her awareness or consent. constantly having her on muscle relaxers so it's easier to fuck her without prep. adjusting parts of her body with supplements to their likings until she realizes she doesn't really recognize herself in the mirror. her nose has been broken by sex so many times it stoped healing right. her hips are a different size and she has to wear a plug most of the time bc she's usually so loose. just like. Complete Bodily Control over her, yk? and by the time she realizes how fucked up it is, she's in way too deep.

and pulling Cass into it is *really* fun bc Cass is someone she trusts. so if Cass is okay with this, leaning into it and fucking her mouth with a strap while stroking her hair, then it must be okay. bc it's Cass. and maybe Cass is also fucked up, maybe Cass is just trying to provide Steph comfort in a situation she can't get Steph out of. both are good options esp if Steph doesn't know which it is. she never knows if ppl just don't care enough to notice what she's going through or if Bruce and Jason are doing such a good job of hiding it all that they can't see it. and she gets so Stolkholm'd by the end of it there's no escape she even wants. bc it's not like she can go back to normal. it's not like she could come from regular sex that doesn't hurt to the point she cries anymore. so she just. accepts it.

but yk that's just my hurt/no comfort braincell being evil. bc i am evil and i love the psychology of being sexually broken as much as i love the sexual aspect of it. i think it makes it so much crunchier and realistic if there's this haunting acceptance that isn't necessarily a "oh she loves it now" but more of a "she knows escaping will make her feel worse" sort of thing. like she sees Bruce and Jason arguing and just starts to brace for it instead of trying to break them up. it's good food.

[musical-chick-13]

Tfw you're gonna need someone to Look Over Your Writing, but the writing topic is kinda fucked up and you don't want to traumatize whoever will theoretically be looking at this.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.

[needanaccount2readarcaneposts]

#oh i love this #fucking fuck #mmmh #not sold on the pairing before but this... #did something weird to my brain #hmmmmmmm #percolating...

yes.... yes... let the sinco flow through you

the mutation must survive, as the saying goes

[muntitled]

Hangman

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: What's a broke girl to do when her university bills keep piling up and a sadistic Salesman offers to take all her problems away? All at one tiny little price.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Suicide, Restraints, Anxiety, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Oral Sex (m!rec), Deepthroating, Blood Kink

A/N: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

You hadn't initially intended on slitting your own wrist. That idea was birthed almost vicariously in the moment. If he hadn't stopped you, your corpse would have been found laying on a park bench, covered in its own wet blood that would have been dripping from its open wrist like a faucet. Surely his proposition would be better than that.

With your vision obstructed by a heavy blindfold, your hearing is ten times more prominent. You hear the sound of your own breathing, as if your body was taunting you with all the life it still begrudgingly held inside it. You also heard heavy yet elegant footsteps cross a marble floor. Then you hear the scratch of a vinyl as the very sounds of an orchestra bleeds into the atmosphere.

"Hello," said the Man in the gray suit who had accosted you in the park. You remember the way in which he had sat beside you.

No one had ever sat beside you. Not even any of your peers that roamed the university. Everything about your countenance was so worried and severe. You wore your money problems on your sleeves and that evidently warded off any chance of a social life you had hoped to have.

The moon was shining particularly bright and the stars were twinkling little spectators to your silent meltdown on the park bench. Your eyes had been reading and re-reading the email sent to you by the university. An urgent email amongst a sea of urgent emails begging you to 'please just pay them'.

"Don't slit your wrist," he had said, "Not before you've given yourself a chance to win at life first."

You had looked up at him with bloodshot eyes from all that crying over potentially getting kicked out of university. He hadn't melted at your expression, in fact he only smiled softly. "We ought to play a game-"

"I wasn't going to slit my wrist."

"You were just holding that boxcutter for fun, then?" He curled up an eyebrow, leading both of your gazes down to the pocket box cutter that sat in your lap, the blade extended.

"I'm not in the mood to play a game."

"Not even at the cost of your university fees?" Your eyes snapped up to him then. He sat a healthy distance away from you. The space between you both was filled with possibilities so endless it was becoming uncomfortable to breathe. "How much do you owe them now?"

"That's none of your business," you were on the verge of gathering your things. Your boxcutter and your pride.

Perhaps you could kill yourself somewhere else, preferably without a man accosting you about the embarrassing state of your funds.

"I could pay for your university fees, you know," His words morphed into an anchor, keeping your butt firmly planted to the park bench. A midnight runner passed by you two. An evening breeze blew through your scalp and the goosebumps descended.

"Of course, you'd have to win first."

Anyone could see the conflict warring within your irses.

"This is how people get sex trafficked," you'd said, "Absolutely no thank you," How utterly in control you had been! A girl with a firm head on her shoulders.

He only laughed then. He laughed and laughed, so much so he had to politely clear his throat.

"You were about to kill yourself. Don't pretend to have any self preservation now," his words had struck a cord deep within the inner workings of your soul. Your face heated as you hid yourself, tucking your chin against your chest. You did suddenly feel remarkably silly and so incredibly juvenile.

"Don't worry," he had said with an almost lopsided grin, "It's your lack of self preservation that I find so incredibly intriguing, hence I'm asking for one game."

It was only one game.

One game and if you were lucky enough to win, you might coast through the rest of university stress-free. Like a normal 20 year old with normal 20 year old problems. Boyfriends. Clubbing. Whatever else all those girls did when they huddled together in their magnificent little groups. You could be a part of them. For once you had to give yourself the opportunity of feeling like a member of society.

"Are these restraints a necessary element of our game?"

As you sit in this room- a room he had brought you too- blindfolded- you tell yourself that you are giving yourself a chance to be a normal 20 year old. That's why you were currently restrained to a leather chair. The restraints held your wrists to the armrests and your and your ankles to the feet of the chair. This led to the slight and uncomfortable spreading of your legs- a dangerously vulnerable position to be in when you were wearing nothing but a university jumper and a pleated skirt.

You quickly find out that you didn't like to be restrained.

Your chest rises and falls a little higher with every sharp intake of your breath as you will yourself into calmness. Freaking out now seemed completely silly.

Almost as silly as letting a stranger bring you to his hidden location.

Had you no sense of self preservation at all?

Were you a walking piece of meat, waiting for the first predator to sink its teeth into you?

Has that predator finally arrived?

"The restraints are unfortunately a necessary element.” He says, softly, “The human body tends to get jittery when it's met with unforeseen stimuli, and I don't want you running out on me."

That lets the panic solidify itself even more in your bones. This man walked as if he was a perfectly stand up guy and that helped in your decision of letting him bring you here.

Nothing seemed particularly wrong with him at first glance.

His face has all the workings of a perfectly normal man. He looked like he was in possession of a cushy, stable job with pensions and benefits. A salesman.

He looked like he attended his kids soccer matches on the weekends.

He looked married to a beautiful woman who looks good in mom jeans and baked brownies for her Wednesday night book club.

He looked so painfully normal.

But the panic is rising, the more that ‘danse macabre’ fills the room.

"C-Could you at least play something else," You are fidgeting now and it causes him to raise a brow. "Danse macabre is just," you attempt to swallow but your tongue is completely dry, "-incredibly unnerving, right now."

You try to massage your wrists in the restraints and you breathe through your nostrils as a phantom pain shoots through your legs. The need to move was eating you alive.

"You know your classical music," The man regarded you with slight intrigue as he folded the piece of material he had once used to obstruct your vision. He places it on a tiny coffee table before you. "Interesting for a kid your age. Do you know the story behind it?"

"Of course, I do, why do you think I'm nervous?" You had his full attention now. You were almost drowning in it as he lowered himself to a leather chair directly opposite you.

You had never had anyone listen to you as intently as he does. No one bothered to hear what you had to say. The voices in your head were your only audience…

Now you have someone seated before you, so lax as he urges you to, “Go on, explain why it makes you so nervous.” It was completely addicting.

“W-Well,” you swallowed the air again. “Danse macabre quite literally means dance of death,” he sits back in his chair, his fingers tapping against his mouth.

“Why?” he asks in deeply monotony, as if you had captured him as much as he, evidently captured hou. Like you weren't the only one in restraints.

Your brows furrowed “Is this quiz apart of the game-”

“No. I just want to hear you talk.” He says as he reaches over the side of his chair uncovering a sleek black briefcase veneered in expensive leather. He assures you with a single nod of his head that he's listening as he clocks open the briefcase.

“Well,” your eyes are on the whiteboard he pulls out, “Camille wrote this symphony all dark and depressing because it's supposed to sound like it's being played by death himself,”

The suited man smiles down at his busy hands as he lays your boxcutter on the coffee table beside the whiteboard. “I-It tells us that death is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter if you have money or you're about to be kicked out of university for insufficient funds-” he cracks a small smile at that, pulling out a whiteboard marker in the process, “the dance of death is inevitable for us all. Money can't buy you out of it.” You shake your head, “It's real medieval shit.”

You watch him smile again. It's devastatingly attractive which immediately raises the alarms in your own head. This man has restrained you in a chair, in an undisclosed location. For all you knew, death was very well the thing waiting for you at the end of all this.

But he wouldn't stop you from killing yourself, only to kill you himself, would he?

You'd heard about serial killers being raging narcissists. You would virtually be a lousy victim, having already wanted to die.

That thought calms you somewhat.

“We're going to play ‘Hangman’,” he turns the board to reveal a simple drawing of a gallow and a man hanging from it.

“Are you familiar with it?”

“Of course,” you nod your head, your nerves level somewhat at the sight of the little stick figure.

Just guess a letter to a mystery before the Hangman is drawn. These were children's games.

“For every word you get right, a semester of your studies is paid in full.” He smiles, warmly, watching the awe blossom across your face. “You'll get your degree and become the psychologist you've always wanted to be.”

Your brows furrow, “H-How did you know I-”

“Of course there's a penalty to the game,” you watch him erase the little stick figure, as he draws the little lines corresponding with the amount of letters in the mystery word. “If you don't guess the correct words in time,” Time stands still. “Well… The word get carved into your skin.”

You had never been a cautious individual. When your mother would fret and nag about your safety, you would roll your eyes. Everyone else always had self preservation for you. Why would you need it? Bad things rarely happen to boring people. The news coverage worthy stuff? You?

But here you were, fucking drowning in the Bad stuff.

"I'm not playing,” You begin to try and twist your wrist out of the restraints as your panicked eyes zero in on the blade seated on the desk. “I'm not fucking playing-”

“I'm afraid that isn't an option. What's your first letter?”

Despite the soundproof padding stylishly plastered against the sleek black walls you still scream "HELP-Oh my god- HELP”

He walks over towards you in large strides, clamping his hands in your skull and pulling your head back. He's much closer now. Closer than he had been at the park. His eyes are sparkling with intensity and a manic sort of quality that escaped you on your first meeting. Where were these eyes when you were still on that park bench, still able to choose to run far, far away to the nearest police station.

Where were these wild eyes then?

“Look at how scared you've gotten...” He laughs, in your face, “A scared, terrified little Doll-”

“Please let me go-”

“I'm not the one keeping you restrained here.” He lifts his hands as if he were completely crime-free, “You decided to play this game out of your own volition. You're restraining yourself, Doll”

“Jesus, that doesn't even make sense-” you cry, “HELP-”

He pulls a tighter grip around your hair, silencing your cries as a wince bleeds out of your instead..

“You don't wanna do that,” he says, staring deep into your glassy irses, “I have a thing for little girls with pretty tears-”

“Please don't hurt me-” you didn't wanna be a newspaper girl. You didn't want to be a nobody-turned-somebody because her death was so grisly it graced the front pages of a newspaper. That isn't the way your story was supposed to go and so you plead with the humanity inside him. You search for it under all that black ink filling his almond eyes.

Nothing.

They're absolutely black.

“Guess a letter, Doll."

You steal your nerves. Your shoulders slump.

“E-Every word has a vowel in it right?” his eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips against the side of your face. He seems like he's transforming into a completely different person right before your very eyes and it set you alight with fear.

Fear and something else.

“That's it, now we're getting somewhere,”

“I'll go with ‘A’,” a tense, mortifying silence stretches between you too. He begrudgingly removes his hand from your hair, patting down your head like the child he regressed you to as he strolled to the white board.

“Correct.”

He writes the letter ‘a’ twice on the little lines. The first one of the second line and the second one on the fourth line and almost with your brain slotting into place you raise your head. you wipe a stray tear on your shoulder before saying, “I-I- know what the word is.”

He raises his eyebrow. ��Already?” Intuition was a scary thing. It was like a last resort, leaving you clamouring for hope.

“Care to share,”

“Is there an ‘r’” you look up at him. “I need to be sure.” Your legs are fidgeting in anxiety. Your fingernails dig into the leather under the armrest.

He is quiet as he draws an ‘r’ over the second last line.

“Macabre. The word is ‘macabre.’”

A slow almost predatory grin stretches across his face.

“How much did you say tuition was?”

Your heart stammers in its chest.

For those few moments you don't think about death. You don't think about blood. All you think about is that outstanding amount as you murmur a quiet, “₩3,893,852.”

You had it memorized.

The number that haunted your every waking hour, bleed from your lips like a prayer.

You watch as he lowers the white board marker to uncover a phone in his back pocket. He taps a few buttons and in a matter of moments- he turns his screen towards you.

What a remarkable day this had turned out to be.

“How do you know my banking details?,” you ask, squinting your eye at the screen, “Who are yo-”

“That round was too easy.” He moves to sit back down, “Here's your next word,” your heart falls when he only draws three lines underneath the gallow.

Three letter words could be the easiest or the most difficult when it comes to a game like this.

“A?’” you ask through wet lashes. Your only option was to hammer through the list of vowels.

“Ooh-” he pouts, before drawing a Hangman's head. “Try again.”

“E?”

He's silent as he draws a stick for The Hangman's body. The panic kickstarts once more.

“Shit-”

“That's not a letter?” He jests, “One more non-word and you're Disqualified, Doll.” His knee is bouncing up and down. As if everything in him was anticipating the end of the game. Your nerves are drowing in anxiety.

“I-”

“You can't just name every vowel under the sun, Doll. You don't have very many options remaining.” He draws the stick figures first arm.

4 chances left.

“O?” Your breath catches in your lungs. You watch as he throws his head back to lift his hips slightly, as if adjusting his pants. It almost immediately lowers your gaze to the prominent bulge there. Fuck. Not only was he anticipating your loss, he was getting off to the thought of it.

“Well done.” He writes ‘o’ in the second line. Right between the middle and end lines.

“Uh- ‘c’”

He adds another appendage to the stick figure. “3 more chances remaining.” He says, standing up. His arm jitters as he picks up the boxcutter in.

“G-” you ask through tears. He kneels in front of you, his eyes are almost as desperate as yours.

“You are the most fun I've had in years,” he admits, before turning to draw another appendage.

“Guess again, Doll,” the boxcutter extends and you cry.

“You don't have to do this,” You plead and he only sighs as he places his forehead against yours.

“You are such a brave little girl, you know that-”

“Oh my god-”

“2 more guesses.”

“‘T?” You squeak out so quietly, as your eyes squeeze shut.

He presses his lips to your right cheek and you melt. The fear all disappears and it's just you and him. Even on his knees, he's so large, so towering. It sets you alight with incomparable need.

“Well done, Doll- I'm so proud of you, " he sighs, “One more word, baby.”

“P- wait, No!" the sound barely makes it out of your mouth and looks down at you, chest rising and falling.

You hold your breath, eyes wide and wet and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Y- my answer is ‘Y’.” He exhibited all the signs of a sadist. Of course his word for you word be-

“That's my answer. “Toy”

A tense silence bleeds as he brings the boxcutter into your field of vision, and you're once again writhing in your seat. “Please- please no-”

“Fuck I'm gonna need to cum-” He admits gravely. Even more grave, even more harrowing, you're squirming in your seat. Lust balling deep within your cut. You're terrified but so utterly turned on.

Is masochism a symptom of loneliness?

“Please-”

He presses the blade to your leg and you both watch as he sinks the tip down onto your skin. For all those moments, you revel in the pain. The blade breaks skin and you cry out as droplets of blood grows pregnant along your thigh. Danse macabre crescendos and tears fall. As he swipes his finger along the drop of crimson.

“D-Did I not get it right?"

“”You got it right,” he admits, undoing the buttons of his blazer as he stands to his heavy feet once more. The menacing shadow of a God. He's humongous and you crane your neck back to look at him.

“my little winner-” he mumbles, planting a heavy hand on your head as his other hand rubs over his erection.

“I-If I got it right,” you mumble through your sniffles, “Th-Then why did you cut me?”

He looks down at you. The hand planted on your head moves down to the side of your face as he unzips his pants. Your heart is banging out of its cage as he lowers his pants just enough to have his hand slipping into his boxers.

He watches the blood smudged across your thigh.

“I just-” he curses as he uncovers his fully erect cock, leaking precum,“I just wanted to see your blood.” he admits gravely before bringing his cupped hand to your lips.

'Spit.’ He commands.

You're unable to look away. The precum beading the head of his cock slides down the thick veins along the length of it- all the way to the base. You want him in your mouth. Inside you. The need and the pain is an avalanche of contradictions.

He makes you feel so scared, so wanted.

“Don't make me ask again.” He says darkly, tilting your head up to look deep into his eyes.

His fingers prod at your lips and your mouth falls open as his hand delves inside. “Tongue out.” He whispers hoarsely, cursing once again when you roll your tongue out. Somehow incredibly obedient.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, Doll?” He asks, bringing the tip of his cock to your lips. You nod cautiously, feeling yourself descend into a state of mind you'd never been at before. You feel so pliant with his hand still on your cheek as he guides his cock into your mouth. You feel completely reckless. Someone like you who spends her time studying and worrying. Right now you were made to feel completely empty.

“That's it-” he coos, looking so utterly pained as his cock slides against your tongue, “That's my Doll,” he thrusts in and out of your mouth and you just sit there. Quite literally a doll. You let him use you, feeling more useful now than you've ever felt in all your years of living. There is beauty in submission that has a wet spot forming along your panties. You writhe as he begins to fuck your throat, drawing out a moan from him in the process.

“Shit- you're such a good girl-” there's fire in his eyes as he thrusts in and out. His hands move to the back of your head, forcing you down deeper on his cock. The sounds of your struggle -the gagging- it has his cocm twitching in your mouth

“Fuck-” he grunts, breathing so heavily as you begin to writhe in your seat, needing air.

“I knew you were special, Doll- I knew you were so far beyond self preservation- it borders pathetic” the saltiness of his precum trickle down your throat and you attempt to stomp your feet as your cries vibrate around his cock.

“Look at your hips moving baby,” he says, “You like this as much as I do. You're on my side. Even if you think you aren't.” Your hips are circling as if you're searching for friction along the chair as he groans. “Tell me you're on my side.”

He pulls your mouth off his cock and you breathe in deeply. You're coughing as droplets of spit run down your mouth. Spit and tears. Your face shows it all.

Your voice is hoarse. “I'm on your-”

“F-Fuck- I'm gonna cum-" He brings his cock back to your lips, “All over that pretty fucking face- fuck,” your tears fall as he strokes cock, emptying cock over you face. You keep your eyes shut, letting the sound of his pleasure-filled groans shoot straight to your puffy clit.

“I'm not letting you go,” his thumb moves over the cum coating your face. He moves his thumb past your lips, letting the cum seep into your mouth. Saltiness and need.

He needed you.

“You're not?” You ask petulantly, sucking on his thumb like you've regressed right before him.

“I'm not.” He confirms, “My little winner.”

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