#about to snap string of restraint holding her back

[quietwingsinthesky]

in the “canon” version of millie’s tall tales, bobby never asks for her version of events because she only called him there to distract sam & dean while she confronts the trickster alone (<- stupid) (<- overconfident) (<- gets kidnapped) (<- still works to make gabriel like her somehow because she’s just that good at being a hostage) BUT. i need it to be known that her version of events is just as biased it’s just that it’s biased in the sense that millie Was Not Fucking Paying Attention.

[lordprettyflackotara]

dance w the devil || ticci toby & kate the chaser

smut MINORS DNI 18+. tw: you’ve been kidnapped sorry, weed usage, choking, virgin!toby, boss bitch slightly less feral than cannon!kate, mentions of physical abuse (yk, since you’ve been kidnapped)

You sat in the cold basement, shivering as the concrete scratched against your skin. The chains bonded to your wrist rattled as you shifted uncomfortably, the blinding light of the basement door opening making you cringe. You squinted your eyes, expecting to see the familiar shapes of Masky and Hoodie. The two hell hounds that belonged to the devil, you had decided. You had enough bruises on you to justify your judgment. You were surprised to see two new visitors, ones you hadn’t seen before. One was tall and lanky, orange goggles covering his eyes and a tarnished face mask covering the rest of his face. Beside him is what you assumed to be a woman, her face covered with a similar mask to Masky’s.

Her hands were shoved into her hoodie’s pocket, while the man carried an axe slung over his shoulder. They flicked on the light switch, the light bulb being held by a string above you sparking to life. You narrowed your eyes as you examined them, the two not as in sync as Masky and Hoodie. “H-Hello there!” The man greeted, crouching down to your level. He attempted to caresses your face, causing you to instinctively try to bite him. Your body was completely restrained except for your mouth. This was done purposefully, the hell hounds hoping you’d spew whatever they wanted to know. But you didn’t know what they were talking about at all, leading you to be trapped in the dreaded basement until you spewed up whatever they were looking for. Your teeth clashed together as the man pulled his hand away, chuckling as he looked back at his partner.

“Wow s-she’s almost as f-feisty as you Kate!”

The woman now known as Kate rolled her eyes under her mask. “Shut it goggles,” She hissed. The brunette lifted up his goggles, his chocolate eyes searching yours. You weren’t quite sure what for, your heart pounding as you tried to back away. “Jesus t-they made those p-pretty tight huh?” The man asked, referring to your restraints. You slowly nodded, unsure if the truth would bite you in the ass. He reached forward, assertively grabbing your bound wrist and unlocking it. You watched the metal fall and hit the floor with a clank, your hands instantly shooting to rub your sore wrist. “My names T-Toby, but you can call m-me whatever you want,” He purred. You blinked, attempting to move further away from the brunette. Kate grabbed his shoulder, shoving his backwards. “Shut up you’re scaring her,” She barked. It was apparent to you the two weren’t too fond of one another. It made you question why they decided to come together and not alone.

“Alright i’ll cut to the chase so goggles stops trying to butter you up like a shitty piece of cornbread,” Kate spat. She crouched down to your level, sliding up her mask. If you took away the dried blood splatters and dirt that painted different parts of her face, she was quite pretty for such a feral woman. “We’ve come here with an offer we think you’ll find quite enticing,” She continued. You managed to maintain eye contact with her, her rough voice somehow soothing to you throughout the terror. “You see kid, Toby’s a little virgin with no woman experience and you can bet your sweet ass i’m not going to be a test subject,” Kate went on. You felt your eyes widened as you knew where this was going, instantly trying to use your freed hands to back away. “Nuh uh, absolutely no fuckin way,” You snapped. Toby went to intervene, Kate’s hand stopping him. It was her silent way of telling him to give her a second. “Hold that thought, let me finish,” She said. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tucked your knees to your chest.

“Toby here can just guess how to fuck a girl. But foreplay? He doesn’t know shit. You let me teach him how to make a girl cum and we’ll let you spend some time in the sunshine,” She told you. You couldn’t hide the sight of your face lighting up. “You’ll let me go outside?” You asked. Toby tried to approach you again, both of them crouched down and to your eye level. Kate cut him off before he could talk, knowing her pitch landed. “It’ll be supervised of course, but you look like you could use some vitamin D,” She clarified. The thought of seeing raw and bright sunshine filled you with joy, your feet aching to touch the grass outside. It was hard to recall the last time you had been in the suns warmth. It was a miracle the hell hounds let you use the bathroom in peace. You began to agree, the realization of your filth occurring to you. “I’m uh, not the cleanest though, I don’t know,” You answered hesitantly. Kate delivered Toby a wicked grin, one that sent a chill down your spine.

“Why don’t we get you a bath kid?”

You were hesitant to undress in front of the duo, the bathroom much cleaner than the basement. “This is mine and Jane’s personal bathroom. You’re welcome kid. The majority of the residents here are gross,” Kate said, noticing your gawking. You took that as your cue to undress, shoving your shirt over your head. Glancing at yourself in the mirror you hardly recognized yourself, having lost weight dramatically and your cheeks hollowed. Toby turned on the water, checking the temperature to ensure it was nice and warm. He couldn’t help himself from staring at you as you awkwardly stood there naked, avoiding his assertive gaze. Kate pressed up against you, her breath hot against your ear. “Don’t worry kid he’s just admiring,” She cooed. Her fingertips traced over a bruise Masky had given you, the skin becoming a dark purple. “Damn, Masky got you good huh?” She muttered to herself. It was then Toby extended his hand, guiding you towards the bathtub. Kate went around him, pouring some bubble bath into the tub to create soap.

The inviting scent of vanilla flooded your nostrils, putting you slightly at ease. You swallowed as you took his hand, allowing him to guide you into the bath. You were shaky as you sat down, the waters warmth causing you to let out a relieved sigh. It was only when Kate sat on the edge of the tub the reality of the situation came crashing back down. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of a lighter, fear washing over you. “Relax, this is more for you than it is for me,” Kate said casually. The familiar smell of weed clashed with the vanilla, your eyes watching her take a deep inhale. “I-Is this really n-necessary?” Toby asked. Kate rolled her eyes, handing the freshly lit joint to you as she exhaled. “Do you want her relaxed or not? You can’t make a girl cum if she’s scared of you. Unless she’s into that,” Kate replied. You tried to flick the water off of your finger tips as you took the joint with a shaky hand. “Are you into that?” Kate added, glancing at you. You nervously inhaled the joint, hoping whatever they laced it with would cause you to not remember this humiliating ritual. “N-Not on the first date no,” You sputtered, coughing as you exhaled.

Kate grinned at the sight, Toby kneeling beside the bathtub. You went to hand it back to her, causing her to shake her head. “I think you may need that. Let’s get on with it so goggles here can get his rocks off. Open your legs,” She commanded. You did as instructed, Toby eagerly shoving his hoodie sleeve up to his elbow. He used his right hand specifically, your fearful gaze not failing to notice his left was covered in bandages. You nervously inhaled the joint as Toby’s hand dipped into the water, awkwardly cupping your cunt. “Alright goggles you know where the clit is right?” Kate asked. You avoided eye contact as your face became red, the smoke leaving your lips. Toby rolled his eyes, cockily placing his thumb on your clit. “Y-Yes Kate i’ve seen p-p-porn,” He quipped. Kate glanced at you, finding your flushed face quite cute as you stiffened in the tub. “Alright genius go ahead and rub slow circles around it, get her to loosen up a bit,” She instructed. Without arguing he listened, causing you to unexpectedly whimper. Your body responded well to his touch to your surprise, your hesitation floating away with each full circle he did. “Good job, now go ahead and put a finger in there. You needa make sure she can hypothetically adjust to your size. Not that I think there’s much to worry about,” Kate guided. With his spare hand Toby playfully slapped her leg, before doing as instructed.

This time you groaned, feeling his single digit exploring your walls. “Hear that goggles? Thats what we wanna hear. Add another one,” Kate continued. You felt a slight stretch as he added in a second finger, your walls clinging to him. “Now do a scissoring motion,” Kate added, accepting the joint as you passed it to her. You could feel the drug swirling around your lungs, your body relaxing and becoming content in the tub. “A s-scissoring motion? T-that sounds fuckin s-stupid,” Toby bickered. You tried to grind your hips against the brunettes hand, your core now throbbing with desire and desperation. “Do you see how desperate she is goggles? Get with the program. Jesus, nevermind. Just curl your fingers,” Kate sighed, before inhaling the joint. You gasped as he did so, curling perfectly against your g spot. You involuntarily moaned his name, becoming even more embarrassed once you had realized what you had done. “See goggles? Thats what you’re supposed to hear. Go faster,” Kate ordered. Toby seemed to understand, his own cheeks turning pink as he curled them faster inside of you.

Your gummy walls came to life, clinging onto his slender fingers as he abused your g spot. You gripped the sides of the tub, the high only increasing the euphoria the awkward brunette was providing. He could feel his cock growing harder in his pants, tucking his bottom lip in between his teeth. Your moans bounced off the walls of the bathroom, the sound so sinful you refrained from thinking of anyone hearing it. “There we go, now she’s starting to loosen up. Keep rubbing the circles. That’ll push her over the edge,” Kate instructed, continuing to smoke the joint as she watched the pornographic scene unfold. Once Toby had the green light it made him go faster and harder, abusing your g spot with his fingers as he watched you come undone for him. Your eyes landed on his, the two of you entranced with the other as he finger fucked you. “F-feel good?” Toby asked. You licked your dry lips, forcing yourself to form a coherent sentence. “So good, please don’t stop,” You whined, his fingers relentless as he played with your cunt.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tighten, your knuckles turning white from gripping the sides of the tub so hard. “You see goggles sometimes she’ll need a little extra push to cum. Let me help,” Kate offered. You watched her flick what was left of the joint aside, before her pale hand wrapped itself around your neck. You audibly gasped, your gaze flickering to her. “Nuh uh kid. Don’t look at me. Look at him while you cum on his fingers like the good little slut you are,” Kate hissed. You whined as her fingers restricted your airway, your vision seeing spots and stars as your hips grinding against Toby’s hand. You tried to obey Kate’s command, maintaining eye contact with Toby as your orgasm crashed down over you. Your vision went white, your thighs trembling and splashing the water as you came. Your thighs attempted to shut, Toby’s hand refusing to leave your cunt. Kate chuckled as she released your throat, allowing you to breathe fully. As you inhaled the duo exchanged looks before returning their gaze to you.

“You didn’t think that was it did you? Goggles needs a full lesson and that was just the start up.”

[a-hobit]

There are not nearly enough “Izuku midoriya in denial” fics for me.

Katsuki has accepted and is trying to confess but Izuku won’t let him or constantly forces himself to only see what Katsuki says in a platonic way. Eventually Izuku is stressed and cornered. Katsuki tries confessing but Izuku childishly slams his palms over his ears — eyes squeezed shut. Katsuki is devastated and feels like Izuku must be burdened by his feelings so he just…stops trying to talk and his own eyes go cloudy while he fights back tears. Izuku can’t hear or see but somehow feels the air change around him.

He opens his eyes. He sees the person he cares most about with a hand clutched over his breaking heart and the other trying to wipe away the tears falling down his face — twisted into an expression so broken it’s something that Izuku can no longer ignore.

His own hands drop from his face to settle on quivering shoulders while he panics internally. He can feel blackwhip on the edges of his fingertips in a painful bid to be free of his iron will grasp on his own heart. It’s unceremoniously shoved back into that tight spot between his ribs that seems to ache with every uncontrolled hitch or sob in Katsuki’s breath while he tries desperately to understand what’s happened and how he can fix it unscathed.

Asking what’s wrong doesn’t seem to help and Katsuki only shakes harder and diggs deeper into his chest. His hands grow tight on the taller boys shoulders as Katsuki is able to scrape out the barest hint of his overwhelming feelings.

“Why won’t you let me? Are you angry with me now — disgusted? You let round face confess and gave her every bit of the kindness and compassion I know you have while rejecting her…don’t I deserve that too? The be able to speak and be spoken to? To love freely and hear an honest answer?”

“Will you not even look me in the eye so I can tell you the truth? That I love you?”

The thin thread of steel control that Izuku has been grasping to from that very first time he allowed himself to see, and love, and care, fully for the man in front of him snaps. Controlling that feeling has been the only way to keep blackwhip strangled and weak but the acknowledgment is paramount to the heavy door put on it with lock and key slamming open without mercy or thought.

Izuku suddenly let’s go of his companions shoulders to grasp desperately at his thin shirt — now covered in a foreboding inky blackness that seems intent on grasping something. Katsuki only has a moment of warning before he’s violently tugged straight to Izuku — their torsos knocking the air out of both of them in a rush. They’re both covered in strings of agitated looking tendrils that seem to tighten around them with every breath or unapproved move away from the other.

Izuku can feel the humiliation creep up his throat while his nose knocks into another. All he can see is twin red eyes that read to him as shocked. The blood finally reaches his face as he thrashes against the tight renforced hold that black whip — his own damn quirk!— has got them in. Quickly he ducks his head down and pulls at their restraint. He’s embarrassed and can’t choke out an apology fast enough.

“No!! I’m so sorry! I - I can’t make it stop — I don’t want you to hate me and I can’t even get control of my own quirk! God Kacchan please — !”

The tears are cold on his burning cheeks but there’s a soft hand to delicately wipe them away and gently pull Izuku’s face back into view. The other rests sweetly on his chest while Katsuki wears a unreadable look on his face. Their noses are close again and they can feel the breath the both let out unevenly.

Izuku’s eyes are wide and searching while Katsuki slides his hands over Izuku’s shoulders to clasp together around his neck. Katsuki’s head drops down in a thud against his collar bone while his own hands find themselves desperately grasping at his oldest friend’s school uniform. Not really caring about the creases he’s making his eyes squeeze out another tear or two before his head hits Katsuki’s collarbone in a mirror image.

They both take a moment to steady their breathing and hold each other like they’ve never been able to before.

Once they’ve both had their fill their heads pull up so they can meet eyes once more. Izuku feels a shutter come up his back as he croaks out a few words heavy with months of held back feeling.

“…you love me?”

Katsuki eyelids flutter and then pin Izuku with a fierce and determined expression.

“Yes. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you before you run away or make some lame excuse or fucking — put your hands over your ears?! Like a little kid?!”

He huffs petulantly and ironically child like in his own way. Izuku’s finally able to whisper out—

“…why?”

His eyes shoot wide as they take over Izuku’s face. He’s so lost for words he almost doesn’t hear the next confession.

“You — you don’t know me at all. You don’t know how selfish I am Kacchan…you haven’t seen me without you. I…I wanted Shigaraki dead when I saw what happened…it’s too much — and black whip! Just now didn’t even listen to me at all and just — took what I wanted! I don’t want you to be chained to someone so…so not worth your time Kacchan. You don’t deserve to be chained to my mistakes…my selfishness for you.”

“You don’t need such a burden to drag you down.”

Katsuki could only stare in disbelief that someone so forgiving, so loving, so kind could treat themselves so horrifically — could talk like that about themselves. It made his stomach turn watching Izuku fold more into himself with every nasty declaration of his own worthlessness. It fills him with so much anger he can’t help the venom in his voice when he replies.

“Who the hell do you think you are telling me what I can or can’t love?! It’s not your decision to make whether or not you’re a burden to me. As if I couldn’t handle you!”

[strandsofgold]

For @reallyhatethiswebsite, hope you like it and thank you for the prompt <3 I am so so sorry that this took as long as it did, but I loved this prompt so much that I couldn't physically stop myself from turning it into way more than the short, little ficlet it was supposed to be. Whoops. Prompt: Tav nuts before Raphael does for once 👀

TW: Implied non-con (just to be safe), but I would sooner say very dubious consent because deep down there is a part of Tav that deeply enjoys Raphael's treatment of her Kink tags: Belly bulge, forced orgasms, rough sex, choking (kind of), painful sex, cervix-bumping, inappropriate use of mage hand

A Little Death

It is a sudden thing, her orgasm. It seises her, knocks the wind out of her, thighs shaking as that thin string of restraint snaps as if it was sliced in two by the tip of a claw. It drags her to the highest of highs, even when her muscles burn and her breasts ache, the pleasure overwhelms and drowns any discomfort she may have had.

A gasp, pitiful even to her own ears, spills from her mouth, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

When Raphael stills, so does the world.

Where she once rode him with abandon, his cock lodged deep inside her, his hips raising every now and again to meet her halfway between the bed and her, there is now nothing but quiet and stillness and the unceasing pressure of his fingers digging into the meat of her waist as he holds her still.

And Tav, in turn, does her best to quiet down and subdue her body as well, but she cannot—she truly cannot—her heart thundering away in her chest and cunt clenching around him as if trying to force him to meet his end just as soon as her. Sweat drips down the sides of her face. Her rapid breathing only intensifies when she looks down at him, her eyes meeting the amber brown of his iris.

He looks decadent in his human form, just as he always does. But there is a storm brewing in the fine lines of his face. A twitch at the corner of his eyes. The beginning of furrow by his brows.

"I—" She tries, she desperately tries to make it up to him—"I am sorry."

When that garners her no reaction other than the flare of his nostrils, she attempts to move once again, attempts to roll her hips—attempts to emulate Haarlep who would simply keep going in order to satisfy their master and distract him from the slight made against him.

But she is not Haarlep.

Raphael tuts, lighthearted almost, as the corners of his mouth stretch upwards. But his smile is all teeth, a violent kind of glee in his eyes as his grip on her waist tightens, finely trimmed, human nails digging into her skin. Thankfully, they are not sharp enough to draw blood.

He only ever makes her blood in his true form.

"So insatiable, little mouse," is all he says before Tav's world spins on its axis.

In the span of a second, she is beneath him, hands pinned on each side of her head. He is still inside her, his cock twitching every now and again—it betrays his interest, his desire.

Raphael looks at her, all smug and... calm. Too calm. His tail lazily swishes to and fro behind him. It is frightening.

As he is now, Raphael is unpredictable.

When they fuck—and it is fucking, they are not lovers, no matter how often Raphael refers to himself as such—it is always about his pleasure, first and foremost. He 'indulges' her, as he likes to say. And there are rules to these indulgences; some have been explicitly stated—'Do not touch my wings, you ingrate!'—whereas others have been implicit, recognisable only through their repeated pattern.

This is one of the implicit ones: Raphael always comes first.

Always. No exceptions.

Tav retreats—as much as she can—presses herself into the bed as if it will swallow her if she merely sinks far enough down. It is the closest thing to escape she will have tonight.

And Raphael, the bastard, laughs at her, that rich, smooth laughter that reminds her of fine brandy ringing in her ears.

"Why so gloomy, oh apple of my eye?" he asks her—mocks her, really, head tilted and eyes widened in the closest thing to innocence a devil like him can muster, feigned as it is. "I am nothing if not a magnanimous lover."

Tav is not so naive as to not see the threat for what it is.

Still, the wall of smoke and fire and magic that consumes him as his human glamour falls apart makes you gasp all the same. The flames lick at her skin, fine kisses of warmth a distraction only for so long. Because with the loss of his human figure makes way for his true one. His devil form.

And with the change in appearance—fine, olive skin making way for red, leathery ones—comes a change in size.

He forces her open, her walls stretching to accomodate him, the rim of her already sore cunt aching at his size. He swells and expands until she is on the brink of tears, the skin on the bottom of her belly stretched taut around the bulge that has formed there.

He is no longer fully inside her.

He is barely halfway inside her.

But she is full. Gods, is she full.

She hiccups, squirms beneath his hands, the his now clawed fingers digging into her wrists till it hurts.

"You want your little death?" He leans down, breathes deep as he presses his nose against hers, mouth hovering above her parted lips and whispers, low and venemous, "I will give it to you."

.......................

The violent, rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin is the only thing tethering Tav to reality. That, and the all-consuming, mind-numbing pain and torment that wracks her body at every point of Raphael's movement.

He pounds her into the floor—had her on all fours until her arms gave out—one large hand crushed agains the back of her head where it forces her face into the floor, the other possessively cradling her abdomen where it presses against the bulge that disappears and reappears with each of his sharp thrusts.

It is unending. The pain. The brutality with which he takes her.

She has long stopped fighting to flee.

When she tried to escape after the first dozen orgasms, rolled out of the bed, sore and bruised and desperate to not succumb to yet another forced orgasm, scurrying across the floor on hands and knees, Raphael merely looked on in dull amusement—leisurely commented that, If you wish to be taken on the floor on all fours like a filthy animal, you need only ask, little mouse.

Now she lies still, limp and defeated in his grip, nothing but pathetic little twitches of her hips, vain attempts at evading the mage hand whose sole purpose is to make sure her clit is forever stimulated that force her over the edge again and again and again. Even as Raphael violates her thoroughly and fully, his cock spearing through her, carving out her insides to a point where she feels her organs may have turned to mush.

Again and again and again his cock bumps against her cervix, and the stab of pain that comes with it every time tells her that she is as battered and bruised on the inside as she is on the outside. Every push and pull of his hips has puddles of his hot come spilling out of her. Raphael seems unbothered by the mess, merely continues to fuck his remaining spent into her, along with more every now and again when he too reaches a peak.

Her vision is hazy. Her lungs burn, spots of black flickering in and out of her vision. She can barely breathe.

The pressure on the back of her head eases, but only for a moment, and Tav gasps for precious air as Raphael wraps his fist in her hair and drags her head up—forces her into an even deeper arch, forces her ass to press impossibly closer to his scorching skin, his cock impossibly deeper inside her.

She cries and cries and cries, her tears the only cooling reprieve in the blistering heat that consumes her entire being.

Again, she is forced over the edge, her orgasm burning through her so violently she nearly passes out, thighs trembling from exertion, her poor, abused cunt twitching around him. The drool that has dried on her chin gets replaced with new spit as the gurgles and chokes on her tongue, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

She gets no respite. No mercy.

If anything, the mage hand rubs harder at her clit, pinches and twists to make it hurt that much more as Raphael yanks her even further backwards to a point where her back is nearly against his chest.

Shamefully, she knows she would not have it any other way.

[swifty-fox]

prompt #15 for inexperienced/virgin gale & john pleaseeeee

15.  “I wanted you to be my first…”

The sheets were scratchy.

Linen chafed pleasantly against Gale's shoulderblades, cradles his head as John tosses Gale's shirt behind them somewhere. Gale hears the soft whisper of it falling on the floor of the room they'd booked for the night. They'd left the rest of their boys at the bar, left Marge with her ladyfriend John had been dancing with all night, and John had driven them to the motel in relative silence.

Silence, not quiet.

The tension between them that had been low vibration at the bar raising with every mile ticked off the counter. John had even turned off the radio, as if to hear the hum of them better.

"You've done this before? Been with someone?" John asks, sucking kisses across the shivering expanse of Gale's stomach.

Gale stares up at the ceiling, tries to ignore the way his body throbs at every single touch. He's trying to show some restraint, or maybe self respect, and not give into the desperate need to beg Bucky to climb right inside his skin. Linen burns against his skin for how he's got his fingers all tangled up in the sheets. John's mustache is a wet prickle-press against his oversensitive skin. He thinks every touch might be enough to have him crashing out.

John's face comes back into his vision, flushed and dumped with hungry concern. His fingers, just big enough to make Gale feel dainty, slide along his jaw, cupping the sharp of it gently.

"Buck?"

"Not a lotta opportunities in Cheyenne or Sheridan, Bucky."

They come together in a sucking kiss, echoing around the room with wet skin contact and a quiet noise from Gale, who was taken by surprise everytime the bold force of John's tongue slipped past his teeth with casual control.

"Plenty of boys up for it in college, more so in basic training."

Gale barely makes the words out through the press of their lips, it takes longer for him to remember to reply. Longer even to allow himself the vulnerability of tender honesty.

"I wanted you to be my first," he stubbornly refuses to allow the color rise to his cheeks.

"Oh," John sighs though there's nothing delicate about the exhalation.

Instead, he sounds ravenous.

His face melts into Gale's shoulder, pressing languishing hungry kisses there, works open-mouthed against Gale's shoulder like there was something to delve his tongue inside of. It sends Gale keening, one knee coming up to cup against John's broad body.

They're rutting against each other and every movement sends his cock squishing wetly against his hip. There's a wet spot on the front of John's slacks, drooling a thin string of connection when he pulls away. Gale watches it stretch and snap, mouth watering like he's a starving man and shuts his eyes when John palms him in one broad hand.

"That's okay, doll," John says softly, "Kinda doing it for me, honestly, that I'm gonna be the one to show you what a man feels like."

"Why you gotta say it like that?"

"Like what?" John works his belt open and pulls his cock out with one smooth movement.

Gale watches John jerk himself root to head in one smooth movement, drooling fat drops of need onto the still-clothed line of Gale's own arousal. Marking him.

He doesn't know his mouth is open in shocked need until John presses a thumb to his bottom lip, smoothing back and forth as if appreciating the plump of it.

"Like I'm your girl."

John grins at him, all crooked lips and twinkling eyes, "Aren't you?"

"Bucky."

Their gazes hold for a long moment. John's still got a hand on his prick, guiding it in a slow grind against the rise of Gale's cock, ruining his pants. Finally, John acquiesces.

"Nah, you're not my girl," John bends down to nip loving teeth at Gale's nipple. Licks the beading sweat from the center of his chest and scrapes along the rise and fall of his torso muscles. They were fit fighting shape, peaked and ready for war.

"You're my fella," John croons, "My man. My copilot."

[pinkkpjobx]

can i please request ethan with a jealous reader?? can be smut or fluff up to you ^^

Ofc babes

warnings: smut! mdni! p in v, established relationship (ethan x reader)

notes: for some reason, I made it poetic 😟 idk how that happened

°♡°

gods, you hate that your boyfriend was so pretty.

the whole day, you had to sit there and watch as some new camper practically undressed him with her eyes.

and even now, undressed and beneath you, he's still pretty! he's pretty as he moans into your mouth. he's pretty when his hands tighten on your thighs. he's pretty when he bucks his hips into yours, pushing himself deeper into you.

"mmhhm." words had long evaded you both at this point.

however, you had a point to prove. you had to prove that no other girl could fit with him as perfectly as you did.

so, with your remaining brain function, you detatched ethans hands from you thighs and held then above his head. you were well aware he was stronger than you and could easily break from his restraints, and you're sure he knew this too, but he didn't.

with one hand, you kept his hands where you had moved them, and the other, you place on his stomach, bracing yourself to be able to move faster.

and you did. you sped up your pace to the point where ethan was no longer stumbling over words in english, but in japanese instead.

could you understand him? no. could you even hear him over the sweet sounds you were making, along with the sound of you slamming down onto his cock? probably not. but the fact that you made him like this brought a proud grin to your face.

you were doing this to him. no one else.

that thought alone made the knot in your tummy start to snap. it felt like a bridge, hanging on by one string that was being cut, one thread at a time, taking your sanity with it.

every time his cock plunged into your soft walls was like a chunk of your brain was melting. one after another until there was nothing left.

no smart reply to a comment he had made, no snarky remark about how he looked right now. nothing but the overwhelming approach of your long awaited orgasm.

ethans hands twitched in yours, like he was holding back from breaking free. you're not sure if you'd complain at his point.

he started bucking his hips up to meet yours halfway, eliciting lewd sounds from the both of you. it took one more deep thrust to finally snap the rope, dropping the bridge, and you with it, into the land of no return.

he, very easily, escaped the temporary bonds and supported your body as he helped you ride out your high.

"jesus, princess. just 'bout killed me." he muttered.

words still had not returned to you, you figured that part of your brain had not yet reformed. instead, you rolled you hips once more.

"aahh..." he squeezed his eyes shut. "..fuck."

you agreed. you lowered yourself onto his chest, head right under his chin, and released a heavy sigh. you vaguely registered a soft kiss being placed to your hairline.

once you could breath and think properly, you decided to test your words.

"i..." surprise, surprise. they didn't quite work yet. "...hate new campers."

ethans chest rumbled with laughter. "I think you've demonstrated that perfectly, my love."

fuck him for having such a pretty way with words.

fuck him for being so pretty. well...you kinda did.

°♡°

[2cupids]

cw: smut. noncon, implied k.idnapping, b.ondage and use of a gag, humiliation, force.d breeding. blank blogs dni, 17+ interact only.

haechan and jaemin circling around you and your naked body, taking pictures of you as you lay there on the cold basement floor, tied up and helpless. tears stream down your face as they taunt and tease you with every click of their cameras, snapping pictures of you from various angles and even taking some of your most intimate area.

as much as they want to continue their little game, they’re both painfully hard now and it’s haechan who’ll take his turn with you first. jaemin settles against the wall with his camera still in hand, rubbing himself through his pants, waiting for the scene about to unfold in front of him.

haechan shoves two fingers inside your cunt, pumping them into you a couple times before pulling them out. his fingers glisten under the fluorescent lights as he holds them up, doing a scissoring motion in the process. “look how wet this bitch is!” he laughs and jaemin begins laughing along with him. “we’ll have lots of fun with her, won’t we?” he says, tugging his jeans and boxers down his legs.

he wastes no time in pushing the head of his cock past your entrance, groaning at the way your pussy wraps around him. he fucks into you hard and fast, only focusing on one thing and that’s making himself feel good. he reaches for one of your tits, fondling the mound of flesh before harshly twisting your nipple between his fingers, making you wince. “y’know nobody cares about you, i bet no one even wonders where you are,” he chuckles. “maybe we’ll keep you down here forever, using you whenever we want.”

thinking about being locked down in this basement in the middle of nowhere for who knows how long is terrifying. but despite that, you’d be lying if you said being stuffed full of your captor’s cock doesn’t feel good. so you put the current situation in the back of your mind and solely focus on the feeling of being fucked. spit dribbles down your chin as you moan around the ball gag in your mouth, loving the way his dick grazes along your walls.

you hear him say something about cumming. you’re not on the pill and he doesn’t have a condom on. you struggle against your restraints and muffled sounds and pleas leave your mouth, which earns you nothing but a hard blow to your ass and a sarcastic remark from haechan. you hear a string of curses being spewed above you and seconds later he’s spilling his load deep inside you.

you drop your head as more hot, salty tears travel down your face as you quietly sob, wishing they’d leave you alone for awhile before continuing to carry out their nefarious acts. but you know they won’t because the moment you close your eyes, you hear jaemin’s voice from across the room, ”smile for the camera pretty girl.”

scared of what they could do, you open your eyes and you’re met with a camera just a few feet away from you and a grin upon jaemin’s face. the flash of the camera goes off and jaemin hands the camera to haechan as they switch places.

jaemin disrobes his lower half and plants his hands on either side of your head, howering over your body as he lovingly gazes down at you. there’s something about his seemingly calm and caring demeanor despite him partaking in an immoral act that makes your blood run cold. he lowers his head, dragging his tongue along the shell of your ear before placing kisses on your jaw, “let’s see if you’re really as wet as haechan claims. be a good girl for me and i won’t hurt you.”

you don’t know why but you bring your eyes up to meet his and you shudder. it’s at that moment you realize you have to do everything he says or else you’re dead, literally. you’re looking into the eyes of a completely and utterly deranged man.

[merakiui]

Wait wait wait! I wanna jump on this apocalypse au train real quick! But envision this…

Whenever a housewarden picks his bride there’s a ceremony that takes place to show the remaining population the person that’s going to be standing by his side. And for this, housewardens from other compounds are invited to come witness the ceremony (or some sort of diplomat comes in the leader’s place) . It's a show of goodwill and comradery between the compounds. To keep up morale and strengthen unity.

And for this special ceremony, it’s between the one and only Malleus Draconia and his pretty bride. And who shows up because of his hatred that borders on obsession for Malleus? Fuckin Rollo.

And he takes a great interest in Malleus’s Bride. She’s innocent looking, quiet and meek. But that’s not what sparks his unhealthy interest, it's the way you stare up at Malleus like he’s your whole world. Full of love and adoration. Pure and utter devotion.

And Rollo can’t fathom the thought that you, the pinnacle of perfection and innocence, could love a monster like Malleus. Surely, it must be the effects of some sinful curse.

And late at night, where all guests are in their rooms sleeping away from the festivities of the wedding, Rollo finds himself roaming the halls. Your sweet smile and perfect body engraved in his memories. How can he sleep when you're plaguing his mind?

That’s when he finds himself following the sounds of your moans echoing down the long hall. Walking deeper into the dwelling of the dragon’s territory. Forgoing any disdain he held for the ruler. Only focusing on the sounds of your pleasured gasps and lewd moans up to the large marble doors that seem to block his view of you.

A voice whispers into his ear to lean in closer and listen. That he’s the only one worthy enough to view. Tempting him so nicely and convincingly, that he’s on his knees peeking through the keyhole to see you sprawled across the large bed. Legs wrapped around Malleus’s waist and hands tugging at his long ebony locks. The force of Malleus’s deep thrust making your back arch.

And Rollo listens to you begging Malleus to go harder, to go faster. And all that strikes a chord with Rollo and he’s tempted to reach his hand down his trousers to beat his throbbing cock to the rhythm of Malleus thrust into your tight cunt. But he holds himself back, forcing himself to focus on the sway of your breast, the shining trail of cum that drips down your thighs and ass, the plumpness of your lips and hazy expression on your face.

It wasn’t until you plead these very words that not only does his restraint snaps but so does the man that was holding you like you were the most precious gem, “Please, give me a baby!”

And the thin string that was preventing him from falling deep into his delusion is cut.

Anyways, this has been on my mind for like the whole day. Um… so do with this as you please. It was mainly supposed to be about the love of my life, Malleus, but quickly turned into a rollo thirst, which is kinda surprising. But! Here it is. Also, I didn't know where to add it, but I like to think that Malleus knew Rollo was watching and knew that he was growing some sort of infatuation for his precious Child of Man and Mal took it personally.

And I just want to say I absolutely love your work. I consume it like my abuelita consumes her telenovelas. Every post is just so juicy and good. Legit, the best blog to ever blog fr. And i want to interact more, so i might be coming back with more ideas lol

-M (not quite sure how anon names work, but I hope this is good :))

AAAAAAAAAAA M ANON, THIS IS SO YUMMY OMG........ Rollo peeking in on you and Malleus when the two of you are trying to conceive a child, not only because of compound tradition but because the two of you genuinely love and care for each other. Oooooo Rollo is in utter disbelief that you could ever willingly love someone like Malleus! Surely you're under some spell. Magic is so filthy and terrible, after all. He wouldn't be surprised if that's the reason you're so affectionate with Malleus (Rollo is very wrong about that and also very delusional).

Omg and Malleus knowing Rollo was spying...... orz he can definitely sense the presence of another, and maybe come the following morning at breakfast Malleus is so attached to you, more possessive than usual because he just knows if he leaves you alone for more than a minute someone (Rollo) may attempt to strike up conversation with you. >_< aaaaaa and Rollo is so strict with himself, trying so hard to deny the fact that he's (lustfully) attracted to you and that he's only watching you from across the banquet hall like this because he's trying to understand what you see in Malleus. That's the only reason! It's definitely not because he keeps thinking about you and your pretty body and your moans and....... T_T he is obsessed and in denial, and Malleus most definitely knows this.

After he's returned to the Noble Bell compound, he (very begrudgingly) writes to Malleus, if only to keep up appearances and be polite, but mainly so, should another event happen, he can secure an invitation and see you again. <3 he frequently writes about you in his diary to sate every filthy desire he has, often tearing the pages out and burning them after he's gotten it out of his system. But some pages he keeps. Like the poems and sonnets dedicated to you.

[wellthebardsdead]

Lucy: *steps off the lift into Cazadors dungeon and stops in surprise as Raphael unintentionally finally gets a step ahead of her expectations* hm? Hello again dear.

Raphael: *tail lifting hearing her voice and wings stretching open as he turns around to greet her* hello my dear little mouse. I had a feeling this would be the first stop on your list. I’m here to make good on my deal. If, you’re ready.

Astarion: I am… *closes his eyes and steps forward, walking past him before opening them as he looks at the cages and barely holds in a sob as he spots a face out of the thousands he wished so badly Lucy lied about being there* Sebastian?…

Sebastian: you… I remember you, you were the one who did this to me!!

Astarion: I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. *tears pouring down his face* I’m going to make this right. I’m going to kill the one who made me do this… *looks to Raphael* I’m ready…

Raphael: *nods* lead on. *offers his hand to Lucy*

Lucy: *looks at it surprised* hm? *takes it, having some idea of what’s about to happen but wanting to see it play out*

Astarion: *walks into the main chamber with purpose* Cazador.

Cazador: *turns around* My, is this our prodigal son- and his… guests? *eyes immediately locked onto the devil and ‘tiefling’ behind him*

Astarion: My friends. My saviours. The ones who made me remember my worth! That my life is worth living and my body is my own! For two. Hundred. Years of shit. PURE! Shit! I have been trapped under your thumb. And this. Ends. Now.

Raphael: *raises his hand and snaps his fingers, disappearing in a puff of hellfire*

*silence*

Cazador: *looks around for a moment before laughing* And? What was- *blinks as the other 6 of his main spawn suddenly drop from their levitated restraints, all of them gasping for air and clutching their chests as their hearts begin to beat once more* what-

Astarion: *staggers back as air fills his lungs and his heart thrums back to life. The red of his eyes pouring down his face through tears as their original colour returns along with warmth to his skin* no more pain- *coughs* no more hunger. *draws his sword* no. More. Nightmares.

Cazador: *feeling his power fade as all the spawn he’d sired suddenly regain life as the curse is lifted* wh-what have you done?! What have you done?!?!

Lucy: *revs her claws along the strings of her axe guitar and roars as she enters a berserker rage and directs it at cazador* YOURE MINE MOTHERFUCKER!!!

[literary-motif]

Act IV — The Secret Eye

Scene ii — The Loss

previous scene // overview // read on ao3 // next scene

Warnings: (mild) canon-typical violence, smoking

“I insist you visit a hospital,” Julian said, bringing you a newly warmed heating pad to place on your back. “There is only so much I can do, and this won’t—”

“This will absolutely suffice, thank you,” you said, taking a large gulp of the tea he had made you — chamomile, by your request — and took the warm object out of his hands. You sighed contently as you placed it over your shoulder, the warmth seeping into your skin. It soothed the ache, relaxing the muscles that you had felt pull taut since crashing against the screen. “And I should insist you go home to your fiancé. I’ve got everything I need, Julian. Have a good night.”

The man looked unconvinced, wringing his hands in worry as he pressed his lips into a thin line. “I am hesitant to leave you like this,” he said.

You brought the mug to your lips once again, savoring the warmth of the soothing tea. It reminded you of Asirel, andvampires and death — but its sweet taste lingered despite the unpleasant memories. You would need to mend the rift, and you would start doing so tomorrow. 

Today, enough had happened. You could feel the light tremble of your fingers, and you longed for a moment of peace where you did not need to hold it together anymore. You had been hanging on by a thread since Mr. Rhoades' first phone call, nearly twenty-four hours ago. 

The roaring fire before you made you ease further into the cushions, thankful again for Julian’s observant nature. He knew that sitting by the fire — in the warmth of the twisting flames you could lose yourself in for hours, with a hot cup between your hands — was just what you needed after a difficult day. 

His expression of sly pride for knowing you so well had dropped, of course, when he had noticed you were hurt. 

“I promise you,” you said, glancing away from the crackling flames to look him in the eye — again with a promise, again with a word that would slip into a lie. Look me in the eye when you lie to me — “I am perfectly alright. Don’t worry about me, and get some rest.”

He searched your gaze. “Are you certain?”

Are you sure you’re certain?

Your heart ached. 

I’m certain, Dove. 

But Dove was dead now. All dead, all dead. 

You clenched your jaw, pouring all your remaining self-restraint into the effort not to snap at your secretary. He meant well. He was worried. It was not his fault you were on the edge of succumbing to the pressure, and chaos, and bloodbath of the day. 

“Yes, Julian,” you said, impatience creeping into your voice despite your best efforts. 

You could not wait to be alone. 

Your head was spinning, the day's events running amok in your mind. It was tearing you apart. Vampires. Werewolves! You could not believe the phone call that brought your world crashing down came a mere twenty-four hours ago. The Trimedian. Tara. Robert Ackroyd. That vampire. Dove. 

And Asirel, of course. The murder of his father that you had kept from him. 

You gazed into the fire, wishing more than anything to simply disappear. You gave Julian a small nod in farewell as he shut the door to the parlor with one final lingering glance at you. It felt like a million little strings were pulling you apart from the inside. 

Sighing, you allowed your eyes to fall shut, the warmth of the mug in your hands and the cracking of the fire keeping you from sinking too far into your mind. 

The Collective would endure this, you knew. Bashir was devastated, yes, but she would begin to pick up the pieces once her tears dried, the ache in her heart subsided — before the wound on her arm scarred over. You would have to collect the replacements of both Dove and Ackroyd, a task you did not particularly look forward to. 

And what would you tell the general assembly? The truth was out of the question with Kennedy still part of it. 

You would have to investigate the Trimedian soon, as well. It was a pressing issue now that it was brought to your attention. You would have to speak with Bashir. 

Despite the mess, you knew everything would fall back into place sooner or later. The Collective was structured. Things would be taken care of. The inner circle would gain two new members — perhaps from the general assembly, considering Dove had no children. She would have nominated someone in her will, you were sure. Then you would go about searching for a replacement for Ackroyd yourselves. You could not risk another spy sinking its teeth into the organization. 

Tara was more difficult to deal with. You had no chance to toil away and work out some clever scheme to get her back again, no. She was gone. Stage exit right. End of play. Exeunt — both her and your piece of mind. Tara was dead, and she was not coming back.

Stockton was in shambles, the shards digging deeper than the now stabilized numbers of Quetza’s crashed market value. 

You would work that out, too, with time. At least you hoped so. There was no safety net, as was the case with things in the Collective. There was no structure for the world, let alone for the city. Everything could come crashing down further, the precarious stillness now a mere illusion, a short moment of respite for the dust to settle before things got worse again.

But no, Warden would take over, and James would help him. They would turn things around. They would bring stability to the city again, or you would make them. 

Dove’s skeptical look weighed heavily on your mind, and you groaned, raising a hand to your forehead. 

CRISIS IN TECH-COMPANY CAUSES HOTEL CHAIN TO TOPPLE

You had not dared to look, afraid of what you would find. 

The mess with Incessant Inc. was over at last — or so you had hoped. You did not dare feel entirely reassured when Robert Kennedy swallowed Michelle’s hotel chain with his own. Samuel was a thorn in your side you itched to remove from power — currently to no avail — and you could not help but be weary of Robert’s son William and the person he would turn into. He had the choice of two poisoned legacies — his father’s or his uncle’s. 

Perhaps he would follow in his father’s footsteps, owning a myriad of bars and restaurants and a hotel chain, scattered across the States and Europe. Perhaps he would follow in his uncle’s, join the Trimedian, and release his pent-up rage on the prisoned mythics in an unequal fight. He would not join the Collective, that you would make sure. 

Perhaps he would find a path for himself, only time would tell. His life was not predestined. 

Time would tell. 

You sat up, wincing as you reached for the beige folder on the other end of the couch, resting against the cushions, unopened, mocking you with its presence. You wanted to throw it into the fire, destroy the evidence of what could turn out to make Stockton your fault. Warden’s pain your fault. Elias’ trauma your fault. Tara’s death your fault.

Hotel chain to topple.

If the article somehow knew of the bomb in Fresno — drawing a false connection between Incessant Inc. and Quetza, but foreseeing its market crash somehow — you did not know what you would do. Because you would have known, you could have warned her — if you had only read through it like you had promised Julian you would. 

There were not enough white roses on the earth to place on Tara’s grave to beg her ghost for forgiveness. There was nothing you could do to make it up to her remaining family. 

And Warden was sure to kill you. Perhaps you would let him. 

Opening the folder with a heavy heart, you began to read. Your fate was spread out on these pages, in the careful words some eager journalist had written full of glee.

—crumbling of the Tech-giant Incessant Inc. on Tuesday shook the stock exchange to its foundations, serving as a reminder of how quickly fortunes can change. The charge of embezzlement against CEO Sasha Zilk brought forth by the investigative journalist Patricia Kelley rattled many investors enough to jump ship, pushing the company to a freefall into next-to-nothingness. 

In our markets, evident when ships get stuck in the Suez Canal or we run short of microchips that hold up our entire production line, it is not easy to find the invisible threads connecting them. Often we are left wondering about a market’s sudden turn, a twist up- or downwards seemingly without reason. 

One such thread has just become apparent, and it has been shimmering in the light unnoticed for the better part of a decade now. It should not come as a surprise that the Zilk siblings — Sasha and Michelle — brought about the downfall of their respective companies (as CCO in Michelle Zilk’s case) together, which both warns and—

You shut the folder, tossing it aside. Hotel chain. It was not Quetza. You could not have known about Fresno. 

You could not have known. The loss was not your fault. 

“Small mercies,” you mumbled into the empty air, listening to the wood crack. You brought the mug to your lips, finishing your tea. At least that was a guilt you did not need to live with.  

A series of muffled knocks came from the front door. You frowned, wondering why security was bothering you at such a late hour. 

You got up regardless, gripping the edge of the couch in support as your back lit up in pain and the world spun. Another series of knocks followed, this time more insistent. You shuffled out of the parlor tiredly, opening the front door a crack. You shivered immediately in the cold night air.

“Ye—?” the word died in your throat. Your eyes settled on Warden, standing a few paces away from you, security flanking him with a tight grip on their guns. 

He looked tense but stood with an air of calmness that reminded you of the quiet before a storm, unrooting trees and bringing down lightning. He was calm in his anger. His hands were clasped together in front of him, waiting. You saw his wedding ring was stained red. 

“Sorry to bother but he said you had an appointment,” the security guard said — Sarah, you thought her name was — motioning towards Warden. “I’ve not been informed about it, but I thought it best to check.”

“An appointment in fucking Samarra,” Warden hissed, wrath burning in his eyes as he looked at you. The longer he stood in your presence, the more you got the idea that he wanted to pounce on you. 

His hands were balled into fists, the torn skin confirming what your mind had conjured up. Fingers digging into gravel, shuffling rocks to the side as his wife’s name tumbled helplessly from his lips. ‘She’s still under here,’ he had screamed, voice cracking with the force of his emotions. ‘She’s still buried. Someone, help! Help me! She’s still under here! She’s still—!’ 

Sarah shot him a dark glance, fingers flexing on her gun. “I’d be more than happy to take care of this,” she said. 

You cleared your throat, feeling how parched it was. “No need,” you said, opening the door wider. You motioned for Warden to come inside. “I’m bound to return your hospitality.”

He stepped forward carefully as if waiting for the security to tackle him to the ground. When nothing happened, he kept walking, shooting Sarah a glare which she returned wholeheartedly. 

You hardly had the time to close the door behind him, keeping the chill from seeping inside, before his hands were on you. He gripped your collar, ramming you against the wall. 

It knocked the air out of you, blinding your vision momentarily in white, hot agony as the pain in your back became all-encompassing. Your ears rang, but the scream trying to tear its way out of your throat came out as a choked, broken whimper. You did not have the air to scream. 

You knew Warden was talking. The deep cadence of his voice filtered through the silence like water rushing downstream, but you could not make out what he was saying. You were too focused on the pain, too concentrated on gulping down breaths with his hands crushing you against the wall and fighting your way back to full consciousness. 

“Are you listening?” he snapped, janking you towards him only to slam you against the wall again. 

This time you did cry out, gasping painfully as your hands shot up to grab his wrists, holding onto them tightly to ground yourself against the waves of pain dragging you under. “I didn’t know,” you choked. 

“Like hell you fucking didn’t!” His grip tightened. You were sure it took all his self-restraint not to smother you right then.

“I promise you,” you said quickly. Your vision cleared, the bright sparks dancing before your eyes slowly disappearing as you looked at Warden’s bloodthirsty expression. 

He had come here to kill you. It was plain in his fury. He had come to seek revenge. Why flee from Bagdad when the appointment with Death had been in Samarra all along? But it was not your fault. Tara’s death was not your fault!

“I had nothing to do with it. I would not have let her go if I had known,” you said. “It might not have been evident to you, but Tara was my—”

“Don’t you dare say her name!” he hissed, pressing you further against the wall. You bit back a low groan, your hands beginning to shake from the strain on your back. You gasped for breath. “Bullshit!” But you could see a sliver of hesitation in his eyes, the barest hint of doubt. 

Perhaps he remembered what his late wife had told him about you — ‘they’re dangerous, I know. I don’t like being a pawn in their game either, but they’re really not that bad, dear. They’re reliable, and I trust them, to an extent’ — and that was all you needed, latching onto his hesitation like a lifeline pulling you out of quicksand.

“I didn’t know,” you repeated, this time firmer. You squeezed his wrists to get him to ease up on the vice grip crushing you. “It is hard to imagine, I am sure, especially in the current situation, but there are more pressing things on my mind than Stockton, Warden.”

His expression contorted in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut against an onslaught of tears. His breath hitched and you could see his lower lip wobble. He looked struck by lightning, but instead of electricity scorching him in an instant, it was sorrow shooting through him, making his heart feel like it had stopped breathing the moment hers had. He drew away from you as if burnt.

You sagged against the wall unsteadily, reaching next to you to stay upright with a tight grip on the cabinet. The foyer spun. You blinked against the dizziness, exhaling deeply. Your chest deflated, and you felt a wave of exhaustion crash over you. 

Today had been too long.

Warden wiped his eyes. “How did you know?” he asked, voice choked. He gasped quietly. You noticed he was shaking like the last leaf on a tree in late October. He thrust a hand into the pocket of his suit jacket — blood-stained and dusty — and pulled out a crumpled packet of Marlboro red. Jame’s cigarettes. He lit one with trembling hands. “That I’m the Warden now. How did you know?”

Your gaze softened. “Who else would it be?” you asked, sagging further against the cabinet. You felt like a puppet with its strings cut, ready for the curtain call. “James? Little Elias? I don’t think he’s ready for the role yet. Besides, I could think of no one better to carry on in  her name.”

The truth was, you did not know, you had guessed. You were just lucky enough to guess correctly — your expectation (and the thing you had promised Dove to will into existence) had simply realized themselves. The man before you had exactly the position you needed him to have. Small mercies. Stockton was already steering onto the right path.

The Collective would soon follow. And so would the mythics. And the Trimedian. 

Warden took a long drag of his cigarette, leaning against the banister of the stairs leading up. He exhaled slowly. His shaking had calmed, and he looked at you through half-lidded eyes. He was appraising you in the low firelight streaming in from the parlor. 

“You should have done more,” he said, the agony at the loss he had suffered freezing over, turning into cold shards of ice digging into his heart. His eyes flooded with resentment. “I should kill you for this. For her.”

“And what good would that do?” you asked. Two attempted murders in one day. You needed a break.

You needed a gun.

“It’s justice. An eye for an eye,” he reasoned. “Revenge, but not in excess. I take what you have taken from me. A life for a life. It is only fair.”

You huffed, wincing in pain a moment later. “I have not taken anything from you, Warden. I did not know, and I was not the reason she founded the Wraiths. On the contrary, I kept telling her the gangs were dangerous. I kept urging her to strike a truce. She knew the dangers. Her death is no more my fault than it is yours.”

He flinched, playing with his wedding band absentmindedly. You knew he felt guilty beyond reason. It was only natural. If he could trade his life for hers, you were sure he would do it in a heartbeat. 

“But please, if it would make you feel better” — you raised your free arm, motioning to your chest — “do me the honor of making it quick at least. I’m sure you brought your gun.” You had given him free rein, presenting yourself like the sacrifice he wanted. 

A life for a life.

But it was not your debt to pay, and you could tell that he knew that. 

Warden considered your words, taking the last drag of his cigarette. He let it fall to the ground, grinding it with his heel until it was smothered. His right hand inched towards his belt. 

For a moment you thought you had miscalculated. A cold shiver ran down your spine, the pain in your back forgotten as you saw yourself staring down the barrel of his gun. Uncaring, apathetic eyes fixed on yours as he pulled the trigger, reaping his revenge. 

You thought you had misjudged his grief. His impulsivity. His wrath. 

But it stopped. He was doubtlessly thinking about Elias, refusing to let his son suffer the loss of both his parents a mere hours apart. He was not deluded enough to pretend to get out of your mansion after killing you without being shot himself. Sarah would make sure of that at least.

He pulled out the packet of cigarettes instead, offering you one wordlessly. 

You shook your head, declining. But you saw the gesture for the olive branch it was. 

“Given that you don’t want to kill me, as far as I can tell,” you said, releasing the cabinet to straighten to your full height. Your back protested. “How about we become allies instead?”

Warden sighed, lighting another Marlboro. He looked weary. “Do I have a choice?”

[hellmouth-manor]

i'll die when it's time || minami finale

With Micah taken care of, the shields Minami had drawn up crumble to the ground around her. She’s left standing in a smoking mess of metal, looking up at the orchestrator of their misery. She considers him with surprising restraint, given the anger that she feels. That she has felt, at this whole bitch of a situation. What had she said, in Ruby’s trial?

I’m gonna beat your ass so fuckin’ hard that you see colors no one on Earth could ever imagine. Right, that was right. And she’d done what she wanted to do before that– she held back her anger enough to understand Alou, and why they were here. It was easier to take apart a machine you understood, after all, and Minami was a scientist, even if she didn’t act much like one anymore. So with that done…

Well, it’s time for her to get to work, she supposes. Rather than run at Alou immediately, though, and rather than summoning anything to aid her, she squats down in the mess of torn metal around her. No use in letting it go to waste, after all, when she had always taken pride in doing things with her own hands. Maybe to a fault, if she was honest. Almost certainly to one, actually. It had been that pride that caused her downfall, and it had been the people here that had showed her that it wouldn’t hurt to rely on someone other than herself once in a while. Maybe with her final moments here, she could create something to repay them.

(You know, by beating Alou’s ass. That sort of repayment.)

As she reaches for the chunks of metal, despite her lack of tools, they bend easily under her hands and tear as if they’re made of paper. The cause of this is clear enough looking at her– despite no longer being a demon, her hands glow with heat as they had in that form. The metal warps into shape like she’s manipulating clay, wires growing in to fill the spaces Minami intends them to. She had thought that the burning hands of her demon form had been a mockery of how she felt she burned anything she touched. And maybe they had been, given that document about the design philosophy behind the demons. But now, her very human hands burn with the same soothing warmth that her shields had provided to those healing Micah. The warmth of love and protection. That, she’s finding, is more effective than any soldering iron.

It’s enough that, in record time, her vision is complete. Not that it was a particularly elaborate vision, for someone with her skill in mechanics… actually, it’s surprisingly understated for Minami’s bombastic personality in general. It looks as if several of the chunks of metal have been manipulated but left unfinished on the ground, leaving Minami holding… a belt? It’s probably a belt, though with some sort of mechanism on the front. Despite it being unclear how this is meant to help defeat Alou, its creator certainly looks pleased with it. Not just pleased– her one remaining eye sparkles with excitement as she starts approaching the monster. Just strolls right up there. (After all, she can’t beat the shit out of him without getting closer.)

As she goes, she smiles widely. It feels like nothing can touch her– has felt that way, since she started snapping Alou’s stupid strings. For the first time in quite a while, it feels like a weight is lifted off her back.

When she’s a good handful of yards away from Alou’s beastly form, she starts buckling the belt– yes, you can tell it’s a belt now– around her waist.

“Gahahaha– y’know, I’ve always wanted to do this! My whole life! Good thing I got it back just in time, huh!”

She addresses Alou, as if he’s even listening anymore. Once the belt is on, she… strikes a pose, one arm outstretched towards him.

“Now! Count up your sins! …’cause there sure are a lot of them!”

[♫♫♫]

With Minami’s words, the discarded metal left behind her starts to move. It soars through the air, revealing itself not to be discarded at all, but rather parts of a whole that she had left unassembled… well, probably so she could have the dramatics of doing a henshin to punch a demon in the face. But what else would you really expect from her?

The pieces lock into place around Minami’s outstretched arm, forming a heavy metal gauntlet that burns with residual heat. Wires slip into place beneath the plating, allowing her to move her fingers– when she does, steam puffs out of some sort of exhaust valve, the shell shifting to adjust. The metal plating builds up her arm, stopping around her shoulder for an effect that’s somewhere between a suit of armor and a mech. What could she say? She was feeling inspired enough to come out of retirement and build a fully articulated robotic arm just to punch someone with.

Her weapon in place, Minami pulls her arm back, thankful that there are vines bringing Alou down to her level. It’s not as satisfying to punch someone somewhere that isn’t the face, no matter what Hisashi and Arisa might say about kidneys.

And punch she does. Her first strike connects squarely with his nose. With it goes the anger she’s felt at watching people she loves and cares for suffer and die. She’s been lied to and fooled and betrayed multiple times, not in small part by Alou himself. With it goes the misery she felt, believing that she was unable to save anyone here and that she would never be able to make it back home again, just as she’d realized she might want to.

She brings back her arm again, landing another punch to Alou’s face. This time, her metal glove burns with heat– Minami’s love for Micah, who had shown her that she could still have friends despite all her sins, and who had cried for her, and who had given his life to get them all out of there. She wants to see him get to live a happy life outside of here.

She punches him again, in the already-ruined eyes, for Mirai– who Minami had so desperately tried to help throughout the game, and who had shown her that she couldn’t take responsibility for everything, lifting some of the weight off of her shoulders. Who Minami had finally been able to protect, at the very end, and who might finally get to be happy as well.

She punches him, metal cracking against the base of one of his horns, for Poppy, who she cared so deeply for and who had been so deeply betrayed. It burns with the hope that they might be able to finally be free, outside of here, and that she might be able to help with that. You know, in her clumsy way.

With the sound of the crack, she aims for the horn again, this time for Touji– who had been so unwavering in his strength the entire time, who Minami admired for that. She certainly didn’t have any plans to stop teasing him after they got out of here. He’d have to deal with her being loud as hell at his games.

Her fist slams into the same crack twice more, sending more spiraling out, shards falling to the ground. For Arisa, who was almost as stubborn as she was and who wasn’t her type of person at all, but who had managed to brute-force her into taking better care of herself. Funny how it was one of the dumbest people here who had managed to trap her in some of the flaws of her own worldview. And for Olwin, who Minami didn’t understand but had worried for all game. She had fucked up incessantly in trying to help him, but it looked like something had finally broken through at the end, even if it wasn’t her, and she was proud of him for it.

Realizing the state the horn is in, Minami strikes it several more times in quick succession– for Miranda, who she needed to do karaoke with once they were out of here, for Ruby, who had struggled so badly and yet managed to come out of it– until the base is weakened enough that she can simply grip it in her metal fist and yank–

And with a final crack, it snaps off in her hand. She tosses it aside, or whatever remains of it after her onslaught. As for the other horn…

Minami doesn’t raise the gauntlet again. Instead , she raises her other hand to her neck. There’s a much quieter snap as the chain she’s worn there breaks in her hand. Almost apprehensive, she opens her palm and looks down.

The gold ring she had picked out decades ago shines up at her. Its matching partner is gone, burned in the remains of a computer lab somewhere in Tokyo. This one has remained unworn since, Minami unable to stomach the reminder of a death she had always viewed as her fault. Not just that– unable to bear the reminder that her wife was no longer in her life. To wear it again felt like a weight– the weight of acknowledging what had happened, and accepting it. If she hid the ring, she would never have to think about it.

She slips it onto her finger now. Her hand balls into a fist.

“This is for you and your fuckass family killin’ my fuckin’ wife, you goddamn bastard.”

It doesn’t matter that all she has on this hand is a ring and not the gauntlet. It cracks through Alou’s other horn with the force of Minami’s punch as if it had a rocket powering it.

With it goes the dark cloud Minami has been living with. Not all of it, of course– but enough that she can see clearly.

You can’t protect me all the time, you know?

It wasn’t my fault.

She thinks it clearly and without guilt.

Do you think she’s happy?

Minami hopes she is. She hopes that wherever she is, Kumiko can see her doing a Rider Punch right through Alou’s stupid horn. Imagining her laughing and cheering doesn’t hurt as much as it might have a few months ago. She sees it clearly, through the clouds and her addled brain.

The second horn hits the ground, and Minami with it. As Minami lets go of her own pride, the source of her guilt, she takes some of Alou’s with her. What’s a king without his crown, after all? A final gift, from her to her fellow pride member. It was a shame she had had a chance to realize her mistakes at the end, and he hadn’t.

“...You look stupid as fuck without those.”

She lifts her head to look at him, grinning. The metal falls off her arm as she stands, leaving pieces on the ground behind her as she turns away from Alou to walk towards the rest of the group instead. She raises both arms in a cheer.

“Alright, everyone! Let’s finish this up and get the fuck out of here!”

[gaoau]

Monday 17th – A Joyful Afternoon Practice

The Girl Upstairs warnings — none. word count — 2.2k

prev. — next.

The joy Akaashi and his friends brought her could be considered a guilty pleasure. After years of chastising herself and slapping her own wrist to stay on track, letting her very persistent neighbor pull the strings allowed her to breathe in fresh air. [Name] knew better — she always did. However, she also knew that some things simply were out of her hands and she couldn't control every aspect of her life, even if she had wanted to.

It would hurt in the end. She knew that. She had made it a clear point when it all started to remind herself and engrave it in her brain. If she stayed away, if she let herself be left behind, if she kept the spotlight as far away from her as possible, no one would get hurt. Then Akaashi came around, and the temptation was far stronger than her self-restraint. Much like adopting a new puppy after suffering the death of a previous old dog; the new puppy grows into another old dog that will eventually pass away as well. The cycle repeats. It always hurts in the end.

But who was to say she couldn't enjoy it while it lasted? Make the most out of it. Have fun. Bask in the warmth and breathe it all in one last time.

What she had called Throwing away everything she believed in, Akaashi had insisted was a change in mentality. After giving it much thought, she concluded both of them were wrong. It wasn't a change, nor was it a sign of giving up. It was a door [Name] had locked tightly; a door Akaashi managed to kick down in a matter of forty days.

Almost everything came pouring out. Her passion, her tastes, her likes and dislikes, her desires, her ability to enjoy the sweet, sweet warmth. And there was no reason to hold them back anymore — not that Akaashi would let her, anyway.

It visibly surprised Akaashi when she accepted his offer to watch the boys' volleyball practice. [Name] had caught up to him on his way to the gym and informed him she wanted to tag along. Akaashi blinked bemused, eyes owlish and brows pushed into his forehead. She didn't know what reaction she had expected, but her cackles spilled out before she could stop them. He echoed her laughter with a small smile spreading on his mouth. 

[Name] followed Akaashi into the school's surprisingly enormous gymnasium. Being her first time visiting the gym since enrolling at Fukuroudani Academy, she couldn't help but gawk at how incredibly spacious it had been built. Upon stepping foot into the building, she caught sight of Washio and Komi setting up the net while the rest of the team warmed up. As she admired the atmosphere of professionalism in a mere high-school volley club, Fukuroudani's captain whipped his attention to the door.

His precious underclassman setter had shown up fashionably late and he couldn't wait to pester him about it. But then his eyes fell on [Name], standing half-hidden behind Akaashi, scanning the entirety of the gym and whispering words of awe. A toothy grin pulled at the corner of his lips, and he forgot all about his warm-ups as he sprang up from the floor. In a split second, Bokuto was already barreling towards [Name] like a wild beast, arms stretched above his head. "Hey, hey, hey! [Name], hey!"

[Name]'s gaze snapped down to Bokuto, only to find him shoving his palms in her face for her to high-five. She jerked back on instinct. Bokuto was a handful, and she'd heard every single complaint about him to ever exist come from Akaashi's mouth. Loud and boisterous, yet simply a friendly boy [Name] would've loved to meet under different circumstances. Despite her neighbor's words, she could never bring herself to resist the gleaming in the captain's eyes. Akaashi didn't lie when he said Bokuto would be ecstatic to see her.

Chuckling at his childlike excitement, [Name] slapped her palms against Bokuto's to entertain him. "Good to see you, Bokuto-san."

"Hey, everyone! Hey, guys, look! [Name] came to watch us!" Before she could react, Bokuto had dropped his arm around her shoulders and began dragging her towards his team. Behind her, she could hear Akaashi's exasperated sigh as he politely asked Bokuto to let her go.

"Oh, [Name]!"

"[Name]-san, hey!"

"Ah, [Surname], hello."

From every boy she had been introduced to came a welcoming greeting. Left and right, [Name] heard her name being called and saw nods of acknowledgement. For once, she had wiped every last bit of coldness from her mind, allowing space for Fukuroudani's warmth to seep in and consume her. Even while Bokuto kept her trapped in his iron grip and Akaashi tirelessly begged him to not suffocate [Name], her brain was too busy overwhelmed with pure mirth to break free from the captain.

Konoha popped into view seemingly out of nowhere. He grabbed onto her arm and tugged her out of Bokuto's grasp, much to Akaashi's relief. With only one word, he managed to make her burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles as she stumbled forwards. "Yeet." He wore a lopsided smirk and spoke with a nonchalant voice.

"Yoted." Never had it crossed her mind that inside jokes would become a thing in her life. But as she laughed alongside the Jack of All Trades, and heard Fukuroudani's captain whine like a kid, she couldn't care less and instead welcomed the change.

Akaashi blew out another exasperated sigh after hearing his coach scolding the rumbustious team. He approached [Name], still cackling with squinted eyes and bouncing shoulders. She excused herself from Konoha when Akaashi called her attention. "You can sit over there on the benches or you can head up to the bleachers. Whichever you're comfortable with."

"Ah, can I stay with your manager? You said Shirofuku-san was your manager, right?"

"Yes, along with Suzumeda-san. They usually watch on the benches."

"Oh, no way, Suzumeda-san, too? Cool then, I'll stay with them. Good luck with practice, Keiji-san."

They exchanged nods of confirmation before promptly turning on their heels. Akaashi walked over to his teammates to finish warming up, while [Name] shuffled towards the bench to plop down next to her two classmates, still chuckling to herself. She offered the girls a polite smile. When she stopped to give it some thought, she realized she didn't know anything about her classmates; the only information she had gathered came from how frequently they depended on her class notes, but beyond that, [Name] had never even formally talked to them outside of class.

"Nice to see you, [Surname]-chan." That was Suzumeda Kaori, who seemed to never pay attention during economy, and always ended up asking [Name] to take a picture of what she had written down.

"Good afternoon, Suzumeda-san, Shirofuku-san."

A hum sounded from behind her. Craning her neck, [Name] was met with Shirofuku Yukie's critter-like smile. That same smile that approached her after chemistry, because her handwriting was too messy and she couldn't make out what her loose sheets of paper said. "Didn't know you were a cradle-robber, [Surname]-chan." Her eyebrows danced as her smile morphed into a teasing smirk.

[Name] snorted, holding in her quiet giggles. The mere suggestion of dating Akaashi sounded incredibly absurd. "It's really not like that. He offered a while back I stayed and waited until after practice so we could walk home together. And I really have nothing better to do."

"Oh?" Suzumeda leaned closer to her, lips imitating her friend's expression. "So you walk home together now?"

"Neighbors should look out for each other, he says."

"Really now?" Shirofuku lifted a brow. "And you're saying you're not interested? I think you look cute together."

[Name] blinked while staring blankly at the two managers. Her and Akaashi? Together? The amused chuckles escaped from her before she could catch them. "Thanks, Shirofuku-san, but I'm honest—"

"Shirofuku-san, could you please not make [Name]-san uncomfortable? We're fine as friends."

"Oh, what's this? First name basis, huh?"

For the umpteenth time that afternoon, Akaashi exhaled a hefty sigh of exasperation. "Suzumeda-san, please." He hid his mumble behind his yellow water bottle. Of all things, he hadn't expected his managers to be the ones to put [Name] on the spot. His money had been on Bokuto, or maybe even Komi, but it ended up being the two other girls in the team.

And then [Name] laughed. "I know, he insisted a lot on that one. Right, Keiji-san?"

Half of his soul flew out of his body in yet another aggravated sigh. But the other half stayed to appreciate how far [Name] had come. It was a miracle she had accepted his offer to watch practice, and it was an even greater miracle to see her cackling in glee at his expense. Akaashi smiled to himself, watching as [Name] snickered to herself alongside his two managers. The deafening whistle of his coach blew loudly behind him and he knew there would be nothing to worry about.

If asked to list off her interests, the last thing [Name] would think of was sports. Volleyball was, as a matter of fact, a sport. A sport which [Name] had obviously heard about — living alone didn't equal living under a rock — but still had little to no idea about. Hell, if it hadn't been for her impromptu visit to the boys' club, she would have died assuming volleyball didn't even have any rules.

But it did. It had countless rules, an important position for every player, and a frightening amount of slamming an innocent ball onto the other side of the court. As a nihilist and a rational person, not many things could scare [Name]. Ghosts and urban legends were just that: made-up stories, much like horror movies; spiders, snakes, and any other poisonous animal was harmless unless threatened, and she had no reason to threaten an armless creature; Coraline was startling, not scary; clowns were a topic way too stupid to dive in. The list could go on, but so could people's strange fears.

However, some things could, in fact, make [Name] jump and shrink into herself for protection. Her newest addition to that short list was Fukuroudani's Boys' Volleyball Club's members, most standing close to six feet, and leaping to heights she never thought possible. While watching them practice and taking in the basics of the sport that Shirofuku and Suzumeda were explaining to her, [Name] realized how terrifying it was to see tall, muscular high-schoolers float in the air and blast — or spike, as Shirofuku had called it — a ball into oblivion.

[Name] stared intently, trying to follow the volleyball as the boys bumped it around at incredible speeds. It soon fell into Akaashi's hand — who she had learned was a setter and probably the most important player. Calling for his upperclassman, Akaashi tossed to Bokuto, whose feet left the floor in an instant while a toothy grin spread across his face. Practically floating in mid-air, Bokuto's hand met the ball and sent it darting like an arrow to the opposite corner of the court. The ear-splitting sound of his spike echoed through the gym, sending unexpected shivers down [Name]'s spine.

"And that was a cross shot."

"Holy shit…"

Bokuto threw his arms in the air, and celebrated at the top of his voice. "Hey, hey, hey!" He bumped his chest with Sarukui's and attempted to exchange a high-five with Akaashi. As he failed to get a reaction out of his setter, he whipped towards the benches, eyes glimmering brightly. "Hey, [Name], did you see that?! Did you?! Did you see that cross shot I just did?! Did you, did you?!"

[Name] blinked, still gawking like an awestruck fish. Her lips wobbled into an apologetic smile. "I'd like to say I did, but that was too fast to see. Man, that could've knocked my soul right out of my body."

Bokuto cackled, arms akimbo and chest puffed out in pride. "Hey, hey, hey! That's the power of an ace! Come on, guys, one more!"

Her meek words of encouragement didn't reach the captain as he was too busy celebrating his point. She was still blinking stunned when her eyes met with Akaashi's. He sent her a nod and mouthed a thanks, to which she replied with a nod of her own, albeit unsure. Practice resumed, the boys returning to hitting the ball to the air only to slam it down once more.

[Name] leaned towards the two girls sitting beside her, lowering her voice to a whisper in case anyone heard her — and by anyone, she worried about Bokuto. "Hey, uh, what's an ace…?"

Shirofuku and Suzumeda stared at her as if she had grown an extra head. Suzumeda was the first to laugh, soon followed by Shirofuku. "Okay, yeah, let's talk aces now." And the managers began explaining the concept of an ace. [Name] found herself smiling and listening closely, despite not caring if she understood or not. She had forgotten about it, but having fun felt nice.

[v3nusxsky]

I know everyone is loving the platonic Lesso stuff but I nEED THAT WOMEN TO RAIL ME LIKE OH MY GOD. You’re platonic stuff is very comforting though. Truly appreciate it.

Hey lovely anon! I hope this is sufficient if not feel free to send another ask in and I’ll attempt it again :)

play thing| NSFW

*Authors note~ I have a few requests waiting to be written I will write them guys it’s just a few personal things stopping me writing as much as I wish to*

Trigger warnings~ sub r dom lesso, pet play? Oral, toys, restraints r, self pleasure l, overstimulation, lesso called ma'am

Prompt~ tumblr Anon~ I know everyone is loving the platonic Lesso stuff but I nEED THAT WOMEN TO RAIL ME LIKE OH MY GOD. You're platonic stuff is very comforting though. Truly appreciate it.

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

You knew what would happen when you entered this arrangement. Of course you did. Yet you still couldn't stop yourself from agreeing to it. Lady Lesso being the irresistible women is knew just how to push your buttons. She knew just what to say, the sway to add to her hips and even the right stance to take on. Everything about the women all pointed to one word. Irresistible. That's why when you joined the staff you were shocked to hear that she was single. A women with this much beauty surly would be snapped up? Apparently not in her case. You heard the rumours of Rafal, how he treated her so poorly and shattered her heart leaving it irreparable.

That's why you couldn't be surprised at the fact this was a simple arrangement. No strings. And truthfully your heart yearned for more, to hold her close and try to fix her heart. But you knew that lesso didn't feel the same. It was more of a friends with benefits situation for her. So you tried to push down your feelings for the women and be happy with whatever Lesso is willing to provide. Which is why lead you to being in an agreement with the Dean of Evil and subsequently falling deeper in love with her.

Recently the Dean had become rather stressed with the upcoming test between good and evil. You knew this of course so it was no surprise to you that you that the play time had increased as the weeks progressed. At this point it was becoming a daily occurrence. You would wake up deliciously sore from the night before, teach your students in the school for Good their defence class and then would head back to your office to complete paperwork. And then that is where you would be interrupted by the Dean. Sometimes she would be so stressed you never even made it out of your office, others you were taken to the Doom room and on the odd occasion you even ended up in Lady Lesso's quarters. Each day you never knew what mood she would be in, never knew what would happen but that was all part of the game.

Lady Lesso liked to taunt her pets. Simply a play toy for her to use as and when she deemed fit. That was made clear to all that entered this agreement. Yet with you it was some how different from what you'd been told to expect. Rules had been established alongside any limits being discussed, after all this was all for the fun and pleasure of both parties. Lesso truly had no desire to seriously hurt you in any shape or form. Which is why you were not shocked to be dragged into her quarters by her guards.

You were instantly thrown onto your knees in front of her desk, immediately taking your submissive position and tilting your head towards the ground. Just as she had taught you. The women sat at her desk seemed uh phased by your arrival and choose to simply ignore your presence in general. She knew that the wait was something you enjoyed, it allowed you to let your mind wonder what could possibly be in store for you. So far the longest you had been left is ten minutes maximum but tonight it seemed that Lesso was setting a new record. Your knees were beginning to ache, the tights that clung to your legs beginning to irritate your knees yet you didn't dare even move a centimetre. You didn't even lift your graze to rake over her form, after all you truly preferred to receive her rewards rather than her punishments. It was her coming to stand in front of you that got your attention.

A hand cupping your chin tilting your head upwards to meet her lustful gaze. "Now pet remind me, what's your safe word?" She husked out taken in just how desperate you looked. "Nova" you mumbled earning a pleased hum from the older women. "Be a good Pup and go sit pretty on the bed for me" she commanded and you were left dumbfounded at the name. Not something you had experienced yet you oddly enough didn't hate it. It was the sharp tsk of her tongue that had you up in a flustered hurry. You sat on the edge of her bed and she couldn't help but hum in disappointment that you hadn't found your original position. "On your knees pup" she demanded and you complied instantly. Desperate to serve and please her.

Despite the things you heard, Lesso was a considerably slow and patient lover. She took time in learning your queues and tales. Loving how she knew the spots that would drive you absolutely wild for her. The spots that were just enough to tease you and if you had teetered on the edge of realise long enough a simple bite to your collarbone was enough to force you into the blissed out high. Lesso loved to switch it up so you couldn't predict what she would do with you next.

Tonight she opened to feast on you. When had you lost your clothing? Nestled in between your legs lapping up the slick drenching your core. Instantly her stress started to fade away hearing the sinful sounds she could pull from you. Good and Evil shouldn't mingle and you knew that. But you both also knew how sweet the forbidden fruit was. And that's how you found yourself on the edge of climax while Lesso licked and sucked at your aching core. You couldn't help but whimper when she moved just in time to prevent the pleasure from cursing through your body.

"Ma'am please" you whined out trying to get your mind to focus and remember the rules you had been taught. It was the chuckle that your lover let out that caused a shiver to run down your body. Immediately you were blinded by the familiar orange silks that were specifically used for this activity. Next your limbs expertly bound to the bed. Causing you to whine in need. "Oh such a need little Pup for me aren't you?" She taunted and began to strip off her clothing, watching as you withered in anticipation.

The silence in the room was deafening until a click of the button and a constant buzzing noise took its place. It was only then that you felt her position the toy perfectly against your core. Your moans instantly began to fill the room as it created waves of pleasure. The sight to sinfully delicious that soon enough your moans weren't the only ones flying around the room. Your mind was hazy due to the toy working diligently between your legs. Although pleasurable not enough to throw you into the pools of pleasure. You knew that and so did Lesso, which is why lesso had now sat herself in a chair with a direct view of your soaking core. You were now drenching her sheets with arousal unable to do anything but whimper and mewl uncontrollably for her. Quickly growing overly sensitive at the toys constant assault. Blinded and restrained all you could do was listen out as she brought herself to the edge at the sight in front of her.

The straw that broke you was when she finally tumbled over the edge praising you as she came.  That mixed with the toy still working on your core had you pleading with the women. The blind fold was swiftly removed and she was instantly met with your eyes full of desire. Need. Want. Lust. It was a delicious combination and one she thoroughly enjoyed being the cause of. You were completely out of my, only one thing on your mind, your need to climax and you weren't above doing just about anything to get it. So when Lesso situated herself on your stomach, her very own drenched core soaking the skin there and husked out "open pup" you couldn't help but instantly respond. Your tongue swirling around her slender digits making sure to get every drop of her essence and savouring it.

The toy was shut off and removed causing you to cry out. Your words incoherent as you begged and pleaded for her to give you what you so desperately needed. Only this time her fingers slid into your soaked pussy creating the sounds of wetness as she thrusted them in and out. You were thrashing wildly desperately chasing that high you had been denied so many times. It was bordering on painful when Lesso brought you over the edge in an earth shattering orgasm. She slowed her efforts in an attempt to drag out your high as long as she possibly could.

You were completely out of it. Your head empty as you enjoyed the pure bliss you were experiencing. How long had you been in this state? You weren't sure but you were sure you never wanted to leave. It was Leonora's voice that broke your sub space and guided you back to her. Despite being the Dean of Evil she gave the best after care you had ever experienced. Always so attentive and caring making sure you were safe and cared for. You couldn't help but fall for the women ever more than you already had. Once again the red head settled between your thighs this time with a warm wash cloth intending to clean you up so you were comfortable. Your body trying to automatically inch away from her, unable to handle any more stimulation. "Shhh hush pup I'm just gonna clean you up" she reassured pulling your legs gently toward her and wiping the cloth gently, ensuring she got everything for you. After ditching the cloth she joined you on the bed. This was new not something you were expecting and you most certainly didn't expect her to gather you in her arms and whisper "be mine pup not just a play thing but mine?" You couldn't actually believe your ears, still stuck in your own mind. You had to have had imagined it right? But you nodded anyway and snuggled into her embrace.

Word count~ 1771

[valentineforlemonandcherry]

Tag Yourself - Part 2. Slytherin Leading Men (Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Cyrille Lestrange, and Tom Riddle) & How They Finger You

In loving you, these men, who adore you, love when they get to hold you - maybe by gently hugging you and letting you rest on their chest, or perhaps by casually holding your hand and kissing the back of your small hand in theirs. However, in making love with you, their strong, broad hands will tend to wander elsewhere, and while all of them prefer to keep you all filled up with them until you simply can’t think about anything else, they each touch you in their own fitting manner - some with lithe and graceful fingers, others with thick and dominating fingers -  so that they each prefer to keep you occupied just a little differently…

[Warning: Please note that these are significantly darker than the Marauder’s ones.] [Warning: Rough Sex.] [Warning: Strong Dom/Sub Dynamics.] [Warning: DDLG Dynamics.] [Warning: Nonconsent.] [Warning: Bondage.] [Warning: Mentions of Bruises.] [Warning: Possessive Behavior.] 

Please heed the warnings above before continuing. Keep yourself safe and well. Thank you for taking care of yourself. 

Finally, please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Cyrille Lestrange is an OC. Thank You!

Severus Snape:

Severus loves hates when you squirm under him, so his hands are usually wrapped tightly around your wrists and pinning you down - against the bookcase, table, wall, bed, rug, doesn’t matter - you’re his. He uses his hips to firmly pin you down, and often uses his knees to spread your thighs as far as possible, because, he claims, it’s the only way to keep you still enough to take my cock, you naughty little thing. 

When Severus takes you like that, pushing into you roughly while your legs are splayed wide open for him, thighs flush against his hips, and your arms pinned above your head, and feeling his strong fingers curling tightly around your wrists, you feel all stretched-out and so very vulnerable. The rough burn building up between your legs makes you all breathless, and before long, you feel like your heart is going to burst. Your cries become high and raspy as Severus continues to take you. In fact, Severus loves the way you cry out for him and beg for him when you’re like that. But even though he eventually lets you wrap your legs around him tightly, for you to release some of that intense tension you feel in your body by holding onto him and squeezing his hips with your legs, Severus keeps your wrists pinned down. 

Keeping you in such a position lets him bend down and suck hard at your neck, multiplying your soft little moans until they become nonsensical, lilting whimpers of “ah... ah... ahh...” Severus merely groans softly in reply, but inside of his head, he’s dying for adoration and want of you. How can she sound so very beautiful? he wonders, surprising himself with his own sentimentality. Does she know what she’s doing, moaning like that? I mean, does she know what she’s doing to me? Does she know that I find her soft moans perfectly unbearable, and that, consequently, I’m already slipping, already losing control, so that it’s only a matter of minutes before I - 

Severus doesn’t realize he’s fucking you harder and harder. His attempt at restraint in keeping back his moans and growls - and dare he admit, his whimpers, means that the unbearable tension rising inside of him has to release another way, and it does - by his pounding into your little pussy until his hips are snapping hard against yours. 

“S-Sev! Ah!” Your soft cry rises and falls in longing and desperation. You want more, and yet, you can’t even take this. 

“M-mmm-mmm,” you mumble out a soft string of incoherent moans, half in pleasure and half nearly begging - for what? You don’t even know. But you trust Severus to give it to you. So, you babble out, “Give it to m-me, Sev, p-please. W-Want it - ah! - Mmm, please, want you s-so bad, S-Sev,- ah, ah, a-ah...!”

Severus growls, and he pounds you even harder. You can’t believe it. You just can’t - take - it - “Ah! Ah, ah, ah! S-Sev! Ah!” 

Driving me fucking insane, Severus growls in his head, and he feels his cock throb in absolute need of you, knows he’s very, very close. And when he’s close, Severus grips your wrists even tighter, and his fingers squeeze hard, almost creating yet another soft burn on your body, lighting up gently around your wrists. By this point, however, you love the feeling of Severus holding onto you like this; it’s the only thing reminding you that you’re still here, in this world, safe with him, and not floating off into some dark paradise all by your lonesome, which is what you’re apt to believe when you’ve been reduced to a moaning, breathless, trembling little mess underneath Severus as he uses your sweet cunt unapologetically for his pleasure. 

When he finally cums in you, Severus returns to himself a little, and he soothingly strokes your face before pressing his hand warmly against your flushed, pretty cheek. You moan weakly, and finally, Severus lets go of your wrists. Your arms fall down, and you immediately try to find Severus. Lightheaded and dizzy as you are, your hands still manage to pat gently over Severus’ chest until you find your spot - your spot, on his broad, sturdy chest, where you always rest your hands when you’re with Severus, whether it’s after Severus has made love to you or when you’ve fallen asleep on top of him after a long night of waiting up for him to come back from his office. 

It isn’t until a few hours later that impressions of Severus’ thick, strong fingers appear as soft blushing decorations on your wrists. Horrified, Severus ignores your protests that you’re fine. He wraps his arm around your waist and gently but very firmly drags you into his office. There, he quickly applies a soothing balm over each and every bruise with the utmost care, and then he wraps each of your wrists tenderly in bandages. 

Kissing your hands softly, he promises he’ll be more careful next time. You marvel at how very soft and tender he’s being with you. When Severus notices your bright eyes studying him most lovingly, he frowns says curtly, “What?” Instead of answering right away, you first sit in his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

After a few moments of sweet silence, where the two of you simply hold each other, you whisper mischievously that you rather like the way he holds you down when he fucks your little cunt. Severus tenses at first, not quite believing you. In fact, he pries you away from him and studies your face. He hates to be pitied and doesn’t ever want you hiding your true feelings for his sake. However, you mean it and when you keep reassuring him that you love it because his holding you so tightly makes you feel so connected to him, in a contrasting, yet equally wonderfully way from the way he ravishes the rest of your body, Severus finally calms down. 

Speaking a bit gruffly to hide both how embarrassed and pleased he is by your genuine liking the way he grips your little wrists in his, Severus still promises that he’ll be gentler with you next time. You agree, but you give him a little smirk, taking that as a bit of a challenge for yourself, and leaning forward, you playfully bite Severus’ neck, causing him to immediately grip your waist far tighter than he means to. When Severus scowls at you and takes his hands away, you laugh softly and hug him all the tighter, burying yourself against his warm chest. 

Lucius Malfoy:

You love to suck on Lucius’ fingers. You don’t know exactly why, but feeling your small fingers wrap around his wrist, drawing his elegant hand towards you, and then bending your head just a little to let his smooth, beautiful fingers slip between your lips... You exhale in pleasure as soon you feel his fingertips grazing your soft little tongue. You love the taste of Lucius - whether it be his fingers, his neck, or his cock. It’s just that when you’re busy kissing his neck or sucking his cock, you can’t really observe him at the same time, and you like to see him slowly but surely give into you. He’s a cold, stern, and unforgiving man, but when you can heat him up softly by running your warm mouth all over him, you find that he melts a little for you - however much he tries to deny it, you know. 

Often Lucius is busy writing letters - what he’s so upset about that he has to go dashing off letters to the Ministry all the time, you can’t comprehend, but you do know that his hands can be put to better use - namely, by pleasing you. So, you meander your way over to him.

“What?” Lucius asks coldly, not even sparing you a glance.

“Nothing,” you reply, sounding equally disinterested. But you lean over his shoulder and pointing, you murmur softly, “Oh, look, a spelling mistake...” 

When Lucius pauses and drops his quill for just a moment, you very quickly and slyly take your chance to slide your way in-between the table and his chair, ending up right in his lap. You immediately make yourself at home, rubbing your plush ass against his thighs until you’re quite happy with your lot. Then, beaming up at Lucius, you draw his hand up to your mouth and take your fingers into your mouth, and you suck on them, all the while staring up at Lucius with a most pleased smile on your face, eyes and cheeks glowing at your petty victory.

At once, Lucius draws his hand away, pretending to be disgusted by you, but you just smirk knowingly and slid off of his lap. Sliding onto the floor in a soft heap of lace and silk until you’re sitting between Lucius’ feet, you lean up a little, until your head is poking out from under the desk and beneath his thighs, and you slide your hands up the inside of his broad, strong thighs. Then, for the quickest second, you lean forward, bury your face between his strong thighs, and place your soft, pretty mouth against the evident bulge in his pants.

Lucius’ brow furrows, and his hands fall to either of the chair armrests at his sides. He exhales sharply; his proud chest unexpectedly deflating as he breathes out in a sharp, almost pained huff of breath. Quick as a snake, you yank his hand off the chair arm and once again suck on his fingers. This time, you give him a vicious grin, and your eyes glint at your tactic. You disarmed him by teasing him, by giving him false hope for just that second that you might possibly start to take his cock in your mouth, but no, you won't. 

Feeling both ashamed and angry by your false taunts and the fact that he even let himself get his hopes up for a second, after being tricked by you so many times now, Lucius growls furiously, “You think you’re funny, kitten?”

With a sincere look and his fingers still in your mouth, you blink at him and shake your head emphatically. No, not funny. Not funny at all. But then, you smile the tiniest sliver. 

With an even deeper growl, clearly indicating how displeased he is with your antics, for Lucius demands to be taken seriously, Lucius stands up suddenly. In one swift motion, he yanks you up by your neck and pins you down roughly against his desk. You gasp, but your mouth has barely fallen open in a hushed gasp, when Lucius is already groping your body, taking special care to massage your soft breasts all over with his greedy, rough hands. He touches you passionately enough to make you cry out, as his fingers thumb rather meanly at your nipples through your lace dress. 

“No bra, you naughty little thing,” he whispers to you in a near hiss. “Can’t even properly dress yourself.” 

You mewl somewhat indignantly as your cute, expensive dress, made entirely of silk and lace, falls apart so quickly under Lucius’ hands. He doesn’t care, that piece of fabric is utterly worthless to him - at least, compared to what’s underneath. His broad hands roam very possessively over your sweet little body, pushing your breasts together before running up and down your curves and then passing softly over your soft tummy. 

Then, cradling you in his arms, he kisses you. With you all gathered up underneath him and in his arms, the dress straps slip down your shoulders. At the same time, you feel Lucius’ hand hurriedly hiking the hem of your dress all the way up to your waist. But the time Lucius lays you back down, your dress has essentially pooled to your middle, all bunched up over your tummy and just barely clinging onto your hips.

Lucius doesn’t care, so long as it’s out of his way as he jerks his trousers down and takes his position to fuck you. Your eyes widen and you gasp in both pleasure and surprise as Lucius takes you as his. Thankfully, your sucking his fingers and his touching you all over has made you wetter than you’d like to admit, so it’s easy for Lucius to slip in. But as soon as he’s inside of you, a soft burn lights up between your thighs and you moan, feeling Lucius lean forward to press himself deeper inside of you, taking your tight, sweet cunt for himself. 

“You think you can get away with being so naughty all the time, distracting me with your silly antics, not even having the decency to be properly dressed?” Lucius half-purrs and half-scolds you. “What have I told you about disobeying my rules, kitten?” 

“I... I...” But before you can get any coherent words out, Lucius is fucking you, making love to you roughly and passionately, and it’s all a blur. You’re completely blanked out on his cock, on his gorgeous, thick cock stuffing your precious little cunt all full. 

Overwhelmed by how deep inside of you he is, your eyes sparkle with tears as you reach for his hand again and put his fingers back in his mouth. Lucius gives you a dark, warning look, but damn it all if his cock isn’t twitching inside of you at the sight of you reaching for even more of him, to want his fingers even when he’s giving you his cock so very deep inside of your tight little body. 

She should be pushing me away, but she’s wanting more of me. What a devious, dumb little kitten she is, he thinks, frowning at you. For a moment, he takes in the way you’re lying back on his desk, and he sighs as he realizes that you’ve messed up his desk entirely again. But clearly, you don’t care one bit that you’ve messed up all of his letters by how much you’re thrashing about as you take his cock, arching your back, shaking your head, and trembling your little legs. 

No, little one, you don’t care about anything as long as you get what you want, don’t you? Lucius thinks to himself, staring down at you. But he can’t hold the thought for very long. You’re so tender and sweet as you lay there, his fingers shoved in your mouth and his cock stuffing your pussy, and you’re still diligently holding up your little legs, with your hands tucked just beneath the back of your knees, as you present yourself so beautifully for him.

Oh fine, Lucius groans, and with a long groan of relief and release, he cums inside of you. Lucius isn’t one for cuddling, and he falls back into his chair as soon as he’s certain that you’ve taken every last bit of his cum inside of you. But you tiredly push yourself up and then flop over onto him, forcing him to catch you. Lucius lets out a disgruntled noise, but all the same, he pulls you up into his lap and gathers you up in his arms. 

You lean forward and kiss his lips sweetly. When Lucius pulls away, you laugh, and then your little hand sneaks down to your waist and before Lucius knows it, you’ve pulled his hand back up to your mouth and are sucking on his fingers yet again. 

Always getting what you want, Lucius thinks, with a sigh. He stares at you, reluctant to betray the deep fondness he feels for you as he watches you humming in pleasure and with your eyes sweetly closed as you suck on his fingers hungrily. 

But a moment later, when your eyes open, you pause from sucking on his fingers to smile at him, clearly letting him know that you’ve won this round, that you’ve successfully distracted him from his letter and enticed him to spend time with you, to make love to you, and Lucius finally (though silently) gives in to you. This time, he lifts his hand and slips his fingers into your pretty mouth himself, giving you, his sweet little kitten, exactly what wants from him. 

Cyrille Lestrange:

Well, you’ve noticed by now that Cyrille’s long, elegant fingers love to wrap around your throat. He whispers in his silvery voice all of these endearing nicknames like, “Princess,” “Sweetheart,” and “Angel” - but all the while he’s absolutely punishing your pussy. 

Just when you’re begging to cum, Cyrille pretends to pity you, purring in your ear, “Aw, is Angel feeling all trapped in her little ribbons?” You nod, tears in your eyes, and Cyrille’s fingers slip away from your neck. Thinking that he’s going to let go of you, you start to exhale, but that’s right when Cyrille sneakily and suddenly tightens the ribbons around your body and throat to up the tension that you’re feeling all throughout your body. You gasp; Cyrille doesn’t always choke you, but how deftly he keeps you trapped in his arms and in these seemingly innocent silk ribbons always catches you off guard and leaves you breathless. 

But then Cyrille’s fingers, after pushing into your pussy a few times, making a few wet squelches ring out into the air because of how wet you’ve become for him, slip right back around your neck and tighten, and your eyes roll back softly. For you’ve learned that when Cyrille does choke you, it’s precisely when you’re most desperate for air - not one beat sooner or one beat later. 

However, Cyrille is careful. He never leaves marks on your neck, nor does he ever choke you for too long. All he wants to do is to heighten your pleasure to a dizzying, almost incomprehensible height: to add that extra bit of buzzing, high-heaven sensation throb through your already pulsing body, all feverish with lust (and love, Cyrille hopes) - in short, to make those angel’s wings on your back flutter uncontrollably with sinful pleasure - and then to be there to hold you and kiss you when you come back down to earth. 

And Cyrille does all this with you, guiding his angel high up until she’s losing her mind in his arms, and then he brings you right back down, softly, from your spiraling high, covering your face with soft kisses. He keeps his fingers wrapped around your neck, still - but gently now, and more to help you keep your head up so he can kiss your face than to actually apply any pressure. 

Breathing shallowly, you blearily open your eyes, body completely limp against your lover’s, and Cyrille is there, as sturdy as you could wish for, despite his long, thin, and cut frame. Because your Serpent Prince is a master of control, one who teaches you simultaneously about heaven and hell. 

Truthfully, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve fallen deeply in love with this man of a thousand disguises - the man who turned his own devilish powers against those who corrupted him to Heal countless victims, and more personally, the man who first made love to you under the brilliant canopy of a glittering night sky atop the Astronomy Tower and has since proved his love to you a thousand times over since... 

“Cy?” you whisper exhaustedly. 

“Yes, angel?”

“Was I a good submissive today?”

Cyrille chuckles lightly at you. “Are you ever?” 

You frown a little at this. “But I did my very best.”

“Oh, angel, I know you did. I know,” Cyrille says reassuringly. 

“I let you wrap me up in these ridiculous silk ribbons again,” you say, now almost scowling at him. 

Cyrille laughs inside of his head at how quickly you’re slipping back into your normal demeanor. And with that scowl plastered across your face, he knows exactly what you want - you want to be held and rewarded for your efforts. “Come here, princess.” 

You feel the silk ribbons fall away from your body, and you find yourself nestled most comfortably against Cyrille. You smile wanly up at him, and he rewards you with a long, soft kiss that steals your breath away in yet another way. Cyrille lightly runs a finger over your nose and lips, tracing his precious angel’s beautiful face. 

“You can’t help but be a brat,” Cyrille lets you know, but he’s smiling softly down at you as he continues on, in his lovely, soft, silvery voice, “But I love you for that, princess.”

A moment later, your lips move under his fingertip, and you tell him earnestly, “Love you, too, Cy.”

Tom Riddle:

Tom’s hands are always, always deathly cold. He knows that, because he can feel how warm you are, this soft, warm, whispering little cloud in his lap, telling him (taunting him, it seems) with promises of love and heaven that he can never believe in, no matter how much he wants to. 

“Tom, when I’m with you, I feel so safe,” you confess, burrowing your face sweetly against his neck. “My friends tell me to be careful around you, but I don’t understand them. You aren’t dangerous, are you?”

Tom pauses. A pleased smile appears on his face, as he tells you softly, “No, of course not. What a ridiculous thing to say.”

“Right,” you say, almost sharing in his smugness (or so you believe) as you smile in satisfaction at his answer and go back to laying little kisses up and down his neck and sharp jawline. 

“Why do you care what they say about me?” Tom lifts an eyebrow thoughtfully. He knows he could shut them all up if he wanted to.

“Oh, just because, I feel like people go out of their way to misjudge you,” you reply earnestly. “And it makes me sad to think they can’t see you the way I see you.”

Oh, that’s why? Well, that’s no concern of mine. Who cares how anyone else sees me, so long as she still graces my nights with her silly little thoughts and soft little shape? Tom thinks to himself, and he instantly reverts back to his careless, arrogant demeanor, knowing that his relationship with you isn’t threatened at all by these so-called ‘rumor-mongers.’

“Well, why should they see me as you do?” Tom returns haughtily. “I take no delight in pleasing anyone but you. You ought to know this by now. Or shall I remind you of what it means to be mine?” This is when his fingers begin to travel lightly on the outside of your arm, and the chilliness of his hand makes you shiver in his lap. 

“Hm, little one?” Tom asks, barely holding back a smirk as he watches your brow furrow, for you’re trying not to turn away from his cold hand. But a moment later, you give up entirely. Instead, you burrow further against his neck and chest, now pressing yourself up against him.

Tom lets you press yourself up against him, and he remains silent. However, he then knowingly traces his fingertips up your shoulder, then slipping into your hair, before grazing the back of your warm, bare neck. 

You jolt slightly, twitching against him, and Tom smirks. It pleases Tom to no end that he’s the man you’re sharing these lovely, otherworldly moments of romance with.

But then, you draw back a little and you gaze at Tom with such sincerity as you whisper, “Are you cold, my love? I can bring you a blanket or a cup of tea. Just tell me what you want.”

At this simple gesture of kindness, Tom’s eyes flash coldly at you, losing the slight kindling of warmth that had barely begun to spark in his locked-away soul. Because, truth be told, while Tom enjoys entertaining what he thinks of as ‘your delusions of love,’ sometimes, as in this moment, it annoys him how sure of yourself you seem to be in loving Tom. 

You’re obviously wrong, little one, Tom thinks scathingly while gazing at you. There is no such thing as true love in the world. So, why are you so exasperatingly foolish, as to keep forcing this illusory idea of love upon me, when it doesn’t exist? But the very thought that it might exist and that it might be sitting in his lap right at this very moment, gazing concernedly at him, terrifies Tom - terrifies him more than all the stages of Dante’s Inferno combined. Therefore, it’s in a very cold and unforgiving voice that he murmurs back to you, “Well, if you truly mean for me to tell you what I desire, then might I remind you that there are other ways for you to warm me up tonight?”

That’s why, when Tom has you undress yourself and present to him in only your panties, lying down on the bed and waiting for him, Tom decides to teach you a little lesson. He first runs his cold fingers lightly up and down your body, barely touching you. He wants you to feel as vulnerable before him as you make him feel before you. Sure enough, you shiver and stare up at Tom with wide eyes. 

With a gratified smirk, Tom rips your panties off with one easy yank, and then plunges two of his cold fingers into the warmth wetness of your pussy, making you gasp in surprise. Your heartbeat jumps up to a racing speed in a matter of seconds, and your pretty eyes go wide with shock. Tom feels such a thrill when he notices how your warm little cunt clenches so very tightly around his cold fingers. He pushes his fingers in even deeper, until his cold rings push at your little pussyhole - you both clench your teeth together - and then when his rings slip in, too, you both moan, you because of the sensation of being finger-fucked by Tom Riddle, and Tom because of the gratification he gets from watching you moan and shiver for him like this.  

“So c-cold, Tom,” you bleat out pitifully, clutching at the sheets.

“Mm, I know,” Tom says, and his voice lacks even a drop of empathy. He loves seeing you like this, using you like this. 

Before long, his fingers are cruelly and mercilessly pumping away at your pussy, and when your pussy gets all wet and flushed, he reaches over with his other hand and slaps your pussy hard, making you cry out. 

And you’re getting all dizzy, as the ceiling spins above you, and you have to hold onto the sheets as hard as you can to keep any semblance of reality, but Tom is pushing and pushing and pushing at your little hole - and - and “Ah!” you gasp loudly. “Tom!” 

“Yes. Keep going. Keep cumming. Keep saying my name,” Tom growls at you. 

“C-Can’t!” you stutter out. “Can’t anymore, p-please!” 

Tom smirks, and he whispers to you in his most silky and deep voice, “Of course you can. You don’t need to hide how desperate you are in front of me. I know what you want, my love, and I’ll give it to you - on the one condition that you never hold back from me. So. Let me hear you moan. Cry out for me. Don’t hold back any longer.”

His permission unlocks a realm in your mind that you didn’t even know you wanted, but it turns out that it was all you were waiting for. You cry out mindlessly, with the sweetest voice, “A-Ah! Ah, ah, ah!”

Tom’s in love with you. He knows it, even if some part of him wants to deny it. He loves the way you give yourself to him - which is acceptable. But worse, he desires to be there for you when it’s all over. He doesn’t want just this, as gratifying and incredible as it all is. He wants you.

Meanwhile, your entire body trembles and you fall into that subconscious realm of sex, passion, possession, darkness, and domination - where you know your Tom will be waiting for you, waiting to meet you and make you his, just as your little heart desires. 

And at the very, very end, when you ignore Tom’s irritated remarks that he doesn’t want you to lie on his chest and you cuddle up against him anyways, it’s you that has the satisfied smile as you whisper to him adoringly, “Guess what, Tom?”

“What?” he asks, annoyed. 

You place a kiss on his chest before reaching over and dragging his arm around your waist. Then, comfortable with where you are, with your love, you tell him, “Now you’re warm, too. I win.” 

And before Tom can even berate you, you’ve fallen asleep with the most peaceful smile gracing your lovely face. 

[darklove9314-blog]

But tell me why I want to read your Breeding Kink Nessian…

Author's Note: This story includes breeding kinks, please proceed with caution or scroll if they aren't your thing.

Nesta stared at her tea in concentration, running her finger over it's rim as the steam from it wafted in her face.

Nesta had been consuming her contraceptive tea for years now, feeling content with not having children for years, until one day the urge to just-not take her contraceptives had cropped up.

Lately the thought of stopping her birth control, at taking that risk with her mate, had been calling to her, she had tossed the idea in her head around for some time.

Visions of letting Cassian fuck her bare, at his seed sowing into her so deep that they finally conceived a child. visons of her pregnant, Cassian staring at her swollen abdomen in awe, talking excitedly about the future their children could have flashing across her mind, visions of Cassian holding their children, his face filled with so much lover and joy that the thought nearly drove Nesta to tears.

"Mate?" A voice spoke gently from behind her, startling her as Nesta spun around so fast, her tea cup smashing to the floor, her tea leaking over the floor as Cassian stiffened rushing towards her and the cup of tea as Nesta knelt on the floor staring at it.

"Shit, Nes, I didn't mean to-was that your last dose? Cassian asked, gathering the shards carefully to make sure he didn't cut himself.

"Yes." Nesta murmured softly, contemplating this sign from the universe or the mother, whichever one came first.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Nes. I can go get an emergency dose from Madaja right now if you want it or we can not have sex for a while-whichever-"

Nesta's gaze settled on him, pressing her hand to his as her eyes bored into his.

"What if I don't want to?" She asked, catching him off guard. His eyes widening at her words.

"Nes, are you saying-" He gulped, trying to get the words passed his lips as disbelief crossed over him, "Are you saying you want to make a baby?"

She thought the words would terrify her, thought they would kill whatever urges were pulling deep inside her, but when she heard those words, she smelt her desire for what he was asking between them.

Cassian let out a soft growl, holding himself back even though she could tell he was trembling. Even though she could feel the bond singing deep within her, urging her to climb him, to get him so deep that his seed would coat her deep.

She let out a soft moan as Cassian caught her face, her blue-grey eyes boring into his, his gaze so intense that Nesta thought it would scald her.

His gaze set her body ablaze as his fingers went to the strings of her bodice.

"If we did this, Nes-it wouldn't be a one time thing." He told her,

"Well, that's what usually tends to happen when two people want to conceive a child, Mate. "

"Fae are different, Sweetheart." Cassian growled softly as confusion overtook her. The spilled tea now soaking into the fabric of her dress as Cassian undid her laces one by one, so torturously slow that Nesta trembled behind the heat of his gaze.

"How so?" She inquired, wanting to concentrate on anything besides the feel of his cock inside of her.

"When a Mate-when a Mate knows that his Mate wants to get pregnant, instinct takes over, the need to keep their mate-to keep you in our bed for as long as possible will overtake every thought you or I have, until-until our desire is completed."

Nesta's heart thudded against her chest, her pulse pounding at his words as she felt her center throb,

"Nesta-" Cassian rasped out, her scent drifting towards him,

"What if that's exactly what I want?" Nesta asked.

"Then I will give it to you, but the bond-it'll make our urge to conceive ten times more potent, I want to make sure this is exactly what you want. Exactly what you desire. Do you want a baby with me, Nes?"

"Yes." Nesta breathed as she felt the last of Cassian's restraint snap, his hands surging forward as he gathered the fabric of her dress, the laces in his way, and tore it with his bare hands, exposing her breast to him.

"Thank the fucking Mother." Cassian growled out, shifting her body so she was straddling him, she gave him a soft growl as he gathered her skirts until they rested on her hips, his center slick for him already. The pressure so intense that it was nearly begging for him to be inside. He had been right about anything,. she had never desired him more than she had desired him in this moment.

She let out a breathy laugh as Cassian's kisses peppered her breast, her throat, anywhere his lips could reach as she made him met her gaze.

"Are you sure you want to conceive our baby on the kitchen floor?" Nesta asked as Cassian let out a low laugh, his gaze flickering towards the table.

"I can take you on the dinning room table if you prefer. Gods only know I have fond memories of you at that table." Cassian responded, capturing her lips with his own. Her underwear slipping off as his hands found her center,

"All I know is we better find a place to conceive this child soon or else I won't give a fuck, all I'll care about is being inside of you. Of focusing on the feeling of fucking you bare with nothing standing in my way of impregnating you."

Her body couldn't take the waiting anymore, the yearning as her hands found his leathers, tearing at them until his glorious cock sprang free.

"Fuck it." Cassian rasped out, lifting her hips for him as his eyes met hers. "Keep your eyes on me, Mate. I want you to remember every minute of this."

And with those words, Cassian sank her onto his length, stretching her out until he was buried inside her up to his hilt. They both moaned in unison as Nesta rolled her hips, taking his cock as deep as she could possibly imagine, and still she needed him deeper. Needed him so deep inside that she could feel his seed take root within her.

He spread her legs wider, allowing her access to take him deeper as she tossed her head back to moan.

"That's it, Nes, take what you want. You know exactly how to get it."

She coated his cock as he spread her further and further each time, causing her to cry out in pleasure.

"Holy fuck, Nesta. Holy fuck." He growled out, his lips finding her neck.

"I want you deeper Cassian. Take me to the table." She pleaded.

He growled, hooking her legs around his waist as she clung to his neck, He kept her inside of him, thrusting into her as he took her to the table, careful not to break his stride as he laid her out on it spreading her wide as if he couldn't get deep enough inside of her even though he was buried to the hilt.

"Cassian." She cried out, as his hand firmly pressed to her stomach as his hands traced circles around it as if-

She moaned as Cassian pressed deep into her, he was so deep, deeper than she could ever imagine him going, as if he had found a new part of her to claim for himself.

He grinned, triumphant, as he pressed a kiss to her lips, pulling out until he was nearly to the tip before slamming back into her finding that spot deep within her once more as her nails dug into his neck =, her cry so loud it sounded as a sob.

"There it is." Csssian purred, "That's the exact place where I need to fill you. I'll "be so deep that you'll hardly feel any of me leak out." '

Nesta cried out, sobbing in utter pleasure as her nails dug into his tender flesh.

"You really want this, don't you?" He growled out, "You want me to cum so deep inside of you that I give you exactly what you want. A piece of both of us that you can carry in your womb for months. A reminder of this bond between us. One that I will gladly give to you as soon as you say the words"

"Cassian." She sobbed.

"I can't quite reach it from this angle, sweetheart, I want to make sure I give you this gift in the right way."

He pulled out of her as Nesta almost sobbed at the loss of him,

"I'll be back inside you soon, Nes. I just need you to get up on that table."

She did as she was told, the table creaking slightly under her as Cassian lifted her hips to where the angle was just right. He slid into her, finding that precise spot he needed, she felt every part of him, his weight on her back, his cock buried in every sacred part of her as she let out a moan she didn't know she was capable of.

"Say the words, Nes." He rasped, "What do you want?"

"Your baby." She cried out as he slid deep,

"Again. What do you want?"

"Your baby." She cried out again, on the verge of her most intense release, feeling it gathering in her spine as golden tendrils of light flowed around them, strings intertwined between them, ]

"One more time. What do you want, Nesta? I want you to be explicitly clear this time."

"I want you to come so deep in me that there's no doubt in either of our minds that I'm carrying your child. I want you to cum so deep in me that this bond will give us that we both crave. Please, Cassian, don't make me wait longer for our baby."

Cassian trembled at the words, his cock sliding deeper than she though possible as he snatched her lips with his own, hitting the deepest parts of her until a tidal wave of releases crashed through her, her pussy clenching around him as she felt the splashes of his release filling her to the brim, deeper than she had ever taken his release. hardly feeling any of him sliding down her legs as he collapsed a top of her, breathing heavily, his heart pounding in time with hers, their bodies still intertwined as the last of his release spurted inside of her, hardly a drop wasted between them.

"If that didn't make you pregnant -" Cassian mused, hands in her hair with a mischievous smile as Nesta met him with her own,

"Then let's do it again, Mate. Double-no triple our chances at conceiving this child."

A smile curved on Cassian's lips as he pulled her into his embrace, lifting her from the table as he caught her lips in a kiss,

"The third time is the charm, Isn't it?" He mused, "But this time, I think I'll try to conceive our child in our bed."

"Then by all means, Mate. Take me there."

And with a smile, Cassian did just that.

[llamagoddessofficial]

How would they react if she had to come to work sick to calm one of them down? I'm sure the prison would prefer her to do it than them since they'd die. I'm sure red or sans would make her go home to get better! I can see red panicking seeing her get dizzy and nearly passing out from the fever

Sans: Once he realises just how sick she is, he tries to convince her to go home... he doesn’t even feel unwell and he’s happy to go back in with the other prisoners. But she explains (through her coughing) that she doesn’t really have a choice. She has to be there, according to management, and if she’s not treating him she needs to get back to work.

“... well. in that case... i’m having a serious medical emergency right now, doc. super serious and deadly. imma need you to stay with me for like... at least a few hours. to monitor and make sure i’m okay, yknow? in fact, why don’tcha stay juuuust there on the care bed, under the blanket, and i’ll getcha some water.”

She makes some mild noises of protest. Had she been in a better state of mind, she NEVER would’ve fallen asleep with a convicted murderer in the room with her... but she’s exhausted and delirious and it feels amazing to be off her feet. 

She sleeps for about six hours. Sans keeps a socket out the whole time. 

Red: She was probably called in after he got in a fight. He can immediately see she’s not feeling well but he doesn’t realise how bad it is until he makes a halfhearted flirt, and she doesn’t even try to tell him off for it. Something must’ve gone HORRIBLY wrong!

She actually totally passes out while cleaning blood off his face. He catches her, luckily, quickly scooping her up into his arms... it’s hard to enjoy his first chance to properly hold her when she’s got a raging fever, with bright red cheeks, fluttering breaths and a sweat-dotted brow. Once she rouses herself back to life again he makes her put her foot down and go home... it’s hard to say no to her request to end her shift early when Red is hanging over her shoulder, giving death glares to everyone who even looks like they’re thinking of saying no.

He feels extremely guilty for getting in a fight/getting her called in while she’s so clearly in need of rest. If you ignore all the pestering he does about how she’s doing and if she’s back yet, the days when she’s on sick leave are his best behaved in a long time.

Skull: She passes out in Skull’s room, too. It’s usually a high-stress space for her and it’s all too much for her already exhausted brain... an enclosed area with a monster that frightens and confuses her, she basically just sways and topples over.

... And then it’s like someone threw a tank’s worth of gasoline on campfire. His instincts, for a lack of a better word, explode- the love of his life just dropped to the floor in front of him like a puppet with its strings cut and the panic he felt in that moment can’t be understated, let alone measured. The effects of his sedatives are burned away in milliseconds. He tears out of the restraints (the metal buckles of the straps warping and twisting) and gathers her tiny body into his arms, backing into a far corner and curling around her, fussing her hair and face with his giant claws and mumbling her name like he’s trying to wake her up.

He won’t let go, even once she wakes up. He keeps her close to his chest, where he can hear her breathing, and be certain she’s alright. Nobody can get close... when staff approach/attempt rescue he becomes so irate that they’re worried the gentleness he has with her will slip. And it only needs to slip for a few seconds for him to instantly snap her like a twig.

So... while the staff wait for the industrial sedative to arrive, Mc is stuck in enforced rest with her big, purring guard.