#if you wanna come rape me yourself you can!!!!

[moonlightretriever]

Where’s the knotrape vid, mutt?

ITS GOTTA WAIT UNTIL IM HOME ALONE I CANT SCREAM IN MY HOUSE IF SOMEONES IN IT!!!!!!

[thedreadvampy]

the thing that I really feel about male contraception is it doesn't matter how much you trust your partner because you are simply not always in control of what happens to you. and if shit happens you're going to want to know your bases are covered. you cannot guarantee your partner will be honest but more importantly you cannot 100% guarantee you will only have sexual contact with your partner, and that may not be in your control, and if nothing happens you're fine and if something does happen pregnancy on top of that is the last thing you fucking need

(nb I have been pregnant multiple times and I didn't start hormonal contraception until I was like 28 because I'm afraid of doctors. so my high horse is like. subbasement level. this is a reflection of my innermost feelings not a judgement call.)

[pacofprunes]

let me help ya’ relax.

thanos / player 230 x reader (squid game)

warnings — noncon, public (voyeurism), tears, kissing, use of the word bitch, use of the word rape, pussy kissing, choking, slight / barely but manhandling,

by clicking read more you consent to reading this content and you are 18+

“hey beautiful.”

“the hell?”

standing right in front of you, or rather over you, player 230. it was night and everyone was asleep or sitting in a corner somewhere. you didn’t know this guy besides seeing him the first two games and seeing him act like a fucking lunatic. you sit up and gather yourself.

“what do you want?”

“oh you know, just wanted to talk to a pretty girl.”

he does a cheeky smile. you stare. what do you even say to that. thank you i guess…?

“uh—”

“no need to thank me, it’s what i do. just such a great fucking guy right?”

he picks at the cross on his neck before pulling a pill out and holds it out to you.

“you use?”

“what?”

“drugs. do you do drugs? or have you done them before?”

how the fuck did he manage to bring his shit in here for one, and for two; why the hell is he more worried about doing drugs rather than living. that’d be the last thing you’d be thinking about.

“no. i dont do them and i dont have any interest in that.”

he does a fake pouty face.

“come on babe, loosen up ya’know? don’t wanna stress your pretty little face out.”

he pops the pill in his own mouth. where was this guy going with this? he clearly wants to stay here, hence the big blue ‘O’ on his jacket. so if he’s bored he should go talk to the people on his side. how the hell could you relax watching people you’ve gotten close to or even have just spoke to once die? meanwhile this dudes been jumping around having the time of his life while he’s been here. if this game ended tomorrow, he’d join it again a million times over. or maybe he wouldn’t but the drugs in his system sure as hell would.

“yeah, no… i appreciate your kindness but i don’t even know you and i think i’m just gonna lay back down.”

he grabs your hand and starts shaking it aggressively.

“my names thanos, it’s great to meet you! now you know who i am.”

he smiles again. you just stare. that’s not how it works at all. you could tell he was waiting for you to introduce yourself but you just brush it off and tell him again you’re going to lay back down. before you go to turn over and lay though, he grabs your face with both of his hands and presses your lips together into a deep kiss. he holds you there for a good while, and it felt like you were suffocating.

“what the fucks wrong with you?”

“baby, you could be my new drug! change that ‘X’ into an ‘O’, we’d be absolutely unstoppable!”

“this is real life you idiot, not some fucking video game!”

you slap his hand away from you and try telling him to get lost, but he just grabs your wrist and pushes you back onto your bed. you yell at him to get the fuck off of you but he just presses a finger up to your mouth hushing you.

“sex is a great way to relieve stress. just let me make you feel good. don’t be too loud though, unless you want the others to see us. but by all means, do it. it’s only going to make me harder.”

he laughed and winked at you. you suck the air through your teeth and he still holds onto your left wrist with one of his hands while letting the other one push at his chest. you’re more cautious with your voice level now and in a whisper you try again to get him to go.

“i don’t want to have sex with you, can you just go? go jack off in the corner or mess with literally any other girl here!”

he ignores you for the time being and goes to push your pants down, but with your free hand you grab his hand to stop him.

“gee babe, how sweet of you to wanna hold my hand! but uh, i kinda need it to get to the fun part.”

he ignores your hand continuing to grab at his, not proving to be much use at all besides annoying him. he pushes your pants down, and then your panties to your ankles; acting as sort of some form of restraint. it would prove to be somewhat more difficult to kick at him now as your footing would get caught in the pant legs. he sits up off of your chest finally and starts to pull his pants and boxers off. you wanted to scream at him so badly to get off of you, to scream for some help, but you knew nobody would and all they’d do was watch. it wasn’t anybody’s problem and they weren’t going to make it theirs.

he cups your sex and starts rubbing circles at your tiny little hole to get you all soaked and ready for him. he leans down and he kisses it. he was literally about to start making out with your fucking pussy.

you squeezed your eyes shut and a couple tears come sliding down. god, first you’re in this game that seems normal, then people around you start getting shot, nobody wants to go home, and now you’re getting rapped by some crazy ass drug addict that calls himself fucking thanos. thanos! you’re pulled out of your thoughts when you feel his thumb on your face and him wiping your tears. you slightly open your eyes and he kisses you again. this time with your free hand you push as hard as you can at his face. he moves back and he makes an ‘ow’ face and rubs his forehead. he grabs your used to be free wrist and just pushes it to your side and holds it there.

“it’s always the prettiest bitches that play fucking hard to get.”

he lines up his cock with your somewhat wet hole. he maybe would’ve spent a little more time prepping you but you just ticked him off and he wasn’t going to help you anymore than he already has.

“it’s alright, i’ll have screaming my name and this whole place will know it by the time we’re done baby!”

oh god you were gonna be sick. you feel the sudden intrusion and you immediately tense. biting your lip back from screaming and shaking your head, tears flying left and right. you try to bend and claw your fingers at his hands that are holding yours down but it proves to be futile. you yell at him, while still keeping your voice down to stop and that he’s gotten enough and that he should go.

“agh—please—”

“please? you—fuck’—you want me to please keep going? well you don’t have to tell me that, i was already going to!”

he keeps a fast pace going, and the bed might as well of slid off of the shitty bars it was being held up on. everybody sleeping above you could definitely feel the whole thing moving. you try to fish your legs out of your pants legs to at least have some sort of way of pushing him away but it proves to be slightly harder than you thought.

“fuck babe—you feel so—fuck- so fucking good.”

he sucks the air through his teeth breathing heavy, while you’re doing the opposite and holding your breath.

“god you’re so tight, and you’re so — m’- so hot. i wish i could feel every inch of your — agh - you’re body but you’re too much of a fucking bitch, so i gotta keep ya’ still.”

he stops at an in thrust and moves his face down to yours, causing his cock to go deeper in you and causing you to bite back a moan and squeeze your eyes shut. he presses his forehead to yours, your sweat causing them to almost stick together. he whispers to you while keeping perfect eye contact.

“but you’re my fucking bitch right? you’ll be my dumbed out little whore, baby. should get a tattoo on ya’ that says thanos’s bitch.”

he laughs, now moving down to your neck, starting to kiss all over it. leaving sweet marks all over as he starts thrusting into you again. you just feel his heavy hot breath against your neck and you just stare up at the bars above you and hold in the choked up sob threatening to come out. you feel his cock tense in you, threatening to shoot his load out and your eyes widen. he starts thrusting harder. he lets go of both your wrists and before you can even breathe out, relieved from the slightest bit of less pressure, he wraps both his hands around your throat and looks you in the eyes the whole entire time.

“come on bab — fuckk’- babe. look at me pleas- come on, watch how good you — you make me feel.”

you start to scratch at his his hands and his arms. he’d most definitely be marked up all over by the morning. finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe. you finally decide to look him in the eyes, sending him a pleading look to stop and to quit choking you, your face slowly starting to turn a shade of blue. upon your eyes looking at him, seeing those teary orbs and pleading face, it sends him over the edge. he sends a curse your way before he surprisingly pulls out, his load going all over the bed. he lets go of your neck and pulls up his boxers, falling on top of you. his weight making it hard for you to completely catch your breath. you start to choke and hiccup on your own tears before he looks up at you and strokes his hand across your face, catching a few tears in his hand.

“i told you it wouldn’t be bad at all. don’t you feel a little more at ease now? are you prepared for the games tomorrow?”

not at all. was he fucking delusional? he lays his head back on your chest, looking up at you like a child, and rubs his hands up your sides.

“tomorrow when we vote, you better change to an ‘O’. wouldn’t want my pretty girl to betray me after all.”

he does a fake pout at the end of that. you go to sit up to pull your pants back up but he stops you.

“uhm, allow me. wouldn’t want you to do any hard labor! i’ll take care of it all for ya.’”

he pulls your panties and your pants up and sits up off of you, getting his own pants situated. he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the top of it, looking at you in your eyes with a smile, your eyes still watering. and you send a glare his way.

“ouch babe! you hurt me here.”

he smacks his chest a couple times where his heart was.

“i’d stay here and sleep with you, but my friends will want a piece of you too if they find out that’s what i did tonight.”

you shudder at the thought of that.

“but dont worry. i’ll see you tomorrow. i’ll see ya at breakfast, yeah?”

he pulls you in for one long kiss and you push him away and he almost falls into the next bed over. he grabs at his heart again dramatically.

“ugh, i don’t wanna leave you. we’ll talk tomorrow though, kay? maybe have some more fun too.”

he winks at you again before turning over his shoulder and literally skipping away, running with his arms in the air and his hands in fists. you just hug your knees, crying into them, and now more than ever you wanted to go home. god this was so fucked. you just wanted to go to the bathroom and wash all over yourself but you knew they wouldn’t let you in. you just keep a tight grip around your knees, trying to find some sort of solace while you’re stuck here.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 9

in which we find out how the morning after went for fem!reader. you finally share with spencer after unanticipated anxieties come up. you're continually shocked by his affection for you.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ (angst, fluff) warnings/tags: (preface none of the bad stuff is done by spencer) sexual harassment, slut shaming, non consensual voyeurism of sorts, blood + pain from losing virginity, talk of rape (nothing like that actually happens), implied nonspecific age gap (someone says he looks slightly older than you) non sexual nudity, showering together, intimacy, ewww being in love is embarrassing a/n: I honestly was not gonna post this today but I decided to bc it's just Tumblr its not that deep also you can probably tell I am just creating problems bc I don't wanna let go of them...... ik this is supposed to be a smutty series btw and trust good things come to those who wait!!!but anyways idk what I'm doing and I kinda hate this!! lolol!!!

Friday morning

The air is thick when you wake up—the angle of the sun through the window is lower than usual, and the binding weight of your limbs as you struggle to stretch in place all suggest that you’ve slept in. 

But you don’t check the time quite yet—for a moment, you simply lie there, studying the pattern on your ceiling, downloading the events of the previous night. 

Flashes of skin on skin, lips, breaths, whispers, promises. Phantom sensations. 

Was it even real?

Your apartment is deafeningly silent, you realize. And you have that sinking sense, which you can’t quite explain but know to be true—that you are alone. Spencer is gone. You can’t feel him like you’d be able to if he were simply on the couch or in the kitchen. He’s definitely not in bed with you, and the sheets have long gone cold. 

The truth of it renders about as slowly as your sluggish consciousness does, and you frown, not quite sure what to do with that information. Should you be angry? Should you cry?

Mostly you’re confused. 

As soon as you sit up, sore thighs and abs and a strange ache between your legs confirm that last night was not a dream nor a figment of your imagination. You’ll figure out what to do about your twinging body in a moment—for now you rub your eyes and blindly reach for the bedside table, knocking several things to the ground in your quest for your phone. 

It’s not there, you realize, once you actually try to use your eyes. It’s not in bed with you either as you pat the sheets, and it doesn’t materialize as you sit on your knees and shake out the comforter. 

From this venture, however, you learn two things. First, Spencer must’ve taken it upon himself to get you dressed last night, which you have no recollection of, but you doubt you sleepwalked your way into underwear and a big t-shirt; and second—you bled. 

It wasn’t something you were thinking about in the moment, but now, faced with all the evidence and none of the pleasure of last night’s activities, it’s jarring. A stark, unforgiving archipelago of red on a pristine sea of white. 

People say, at its best, sex brings couples closer. Spencer once told you it could facilitate feelings of deeper connection. But here you are, no longer a virgin, and what do you have to show for it? A stronger bond with your boyfriend? He’s not even here. 

All you have is this glaring red stain marring perfectly good sheets. It mocks you, like something you’ve dropped and can’t pick back up. You can’t think looking at it, and you need to think, and so in a fit of frustration you’re pulling the comforter onto the floor, leaning over your mattress and yanking the fitted sheet free. You ball it up in your hands, breathing heavily—and realize you bled through to the mattress. 

Wonderful. 

Spencer’s just at work, you tell yourself, grabbing the first pair of shorts you see and pulling them on before gathering the ruined sheet once more and stomping on aching legs through your apartment to the hallway, not even bothering with shoes. He can’t just play hooky because his clingy girlfriend lost her virginity and needs to be comforted like some previously celibate high school cheerleader.

But you miss him so much it’s making you angry, so much your eyes are stinging and welling with tears of frustration as you shove your bed linens down the trash chute at the end of your floor’s hallway. You’re supposed to be independent. That’s how you’ve always been. Since when does it bother you to wake up alone? It’s just sex. It’s not as big a deal for him as it is for you. Or for anyone. You’re the one overreacting, you’re the one who expects too much. He works for the FBI, for god’s sake. There are people dying, and here you are—

“What’chya got there?”

The gruff voice makes you jump, and you turn around just as the bundle is disappearing down into the hole in the wall. It’s your neighbor, Jerry—the one in the unit right next to you. You’re not happy to see him, especially like this. He’s got a blue 5 o’clock shadow despite the hour, and is clad in ill-fitting gray sweats and a pair of ratty slippers. His distended belly strains at the confines of an oil-stained white shirt, tied with a dingy checkered robe. You barely meet his drooping eyes before looking longingly back at your cracked door down the hall. 

“Just… garbage.” You shift your weight, hiding a wince as you try to find a comfortable position to stand in. Jerry notices this, and you wish his eyes wouldn’t linger on your bare legs like that. 

“Huh. Looks like someone had a late night.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s just noon and you’re still in your PJ’s.”

Disgusting. And who the fuck is he to judge? At least your pajamas are clean. 

You shrug. “Yeah.”

He scratches his bald head. 

“So that boy tired you out pretty good, huh?”

Your stomach drops. Your brain freezes. 

When you don’t reply, he takes the liberty of continuing on. 

“Saw him sneaking out of your apartment in the middle of the night. He looked a little older ’n you. You like ’em older?” His laugh is a cruel bark. “Yeah… He’s a lucky man. You know, it’s natural for a man to like a younger girl. Fresh meat, ’n all.” You try to speak and can only swallow a gag. Jerry adjusts his stance, hands in pockets like he’s telling you a local news story. “Heard some of it. Sounded like you were putting on quite the show. And sure, a young pretty thing like you? Hell, I would if I could. But I’ll tell you right now, you don’t wanna end up like my daughter. She wasn’t as pretty as you, but still—three kids with three men by the time she was 24. She should'a kept her damn legs closed. You know, she loved to cry rape, but you gotta ask yourself, if your legs are open all the damn time, what do you expect? Back in the day we all knew girls like that—” he bats the air dismissively. “Guess you can’t call ’em sluts anymore—they get what they’re asking for one way or another. See, I think everyone still knows it and they’re just too afraid to say it. So my advice: don’t let yourself get used up, you hear me? Not by men who are gonna ride you hard and put you away wet. So to speak. Men can smell a girl like that from a mile away, and they’ll take it as an open invitation. It’s just human nature.”

When he finally stops talking, the hallway fills with a vacuous silence. It makes your ears ring. Several moments pass, but you’re frozen. Your whole body feels intolerably hot but your blood is freezing. How are you supposed to react? 

“Hello?” He says, voice loud enough to hurt your ears as it echoes. 

Get out of here, your more rational self says to the rest of you, and you mumble something, you don’t even know what, excusing yourself to hurry on stiff legs back down the hall to your door. 

Once inside, you do up every lock on your door, and face your apartment, shoulders tensed practically to your ears and fists clenched so tight your arms are trembling. On autopilot you look around for something to do, but there’s nothing. More importantly, nobody.

I’ll call Spencer. He’ll know what to do. 

No, you won’t, your higher self reminds you. You lost your phone. And besides, it’s clearly not like he wanted to stick around last night. Maybe he doesn’t even like you anymore. 

So you’re stuck here. Stranded. Sharks can smell blood. 

Processing that information, you walk back to your bedroom and close the door behind you—before promptly sinking to the ground and burying your face in the duvet with a deep, silent sob.  

That goes on for a few minutes until you realize you’re too achy and you can’t breathe and you’re forced onto your side, curling up in your blanket on the floor like it’s a nest and not a burial plot. 

You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. A relationship can’t implode twice in 24 hours.  You don’t have your phone. Maybe he’s texted you. 

But is that really all you’re worth? A text sent after the fact? He couldn’t sacrifice a few hours to sleep by your side? Couldn’t even wake you up to say goodbye? You think about the sweet things he’d said afterward—the way he held you, fingers dancing down your spine. Promises he made when you were half asleep in his arms, so sure he’d be there when you woke up. 

Even fucking Jerry the neighbor—who you think might have just sexually harassed you in the hallway—said Spencer should’ve stuck around. 

Fuck. 

No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t even matter. They were just words. 

Heard some of it. Sounded like you put on quite the show. 

Your skin crawls and your stomach turns as you hold yourself tighter. Something that was supposed to be private and special—and some random man not only had a front row seat to your deflowering but felt comfortable talking about it with you. It feels like a violation. Like he crashed a really important party. If you had known you had an audience last night, you never would’ve done it. 

The way he looked at you, tracing your legs with his eyes like he was touching you—

You scramble up from the floor and walk heavily on your knees to the dresser, digging up a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. You should be showering, but you don’t want to deal with your body right now. You just want to hide. 

Friday evening—present

After your conversation, Spencer seems eager to make sure the car ride to his apartment is not reminiscent of the car ride to yours last night—he holds your hand, resting in your lap, bringing your knuckles to his lips at a red light. Every few moments he glances over at you, maybe to appreciate the view (though you doubt it’s especially scenic at the moment) or perhaps to gauge your mood. The further away you get from your apartment building the better you feel, and you try to focus on that. Sure—maybe you had a shit day, but Spencer’s here now, and he didn’t leave you after all. In fact, since finding your phone, you’ve seen the series of very sweet and highly concerned messages he sent over the course of a few hours. They almost make your stomach hurt. It would’ve been really nice to have those earlier. 

He doesn’t ask you any more of the hard questions, but you sense an inquisition in the works and getting closer with every curious glance he gives you. It’s like he’s unwrapping you, layer by layer, using his impressive cognitive faculties to drill through your skull into your brain and deeper still into your soul. 

Back in his apartment you sit awkwardly on the bed. Last time you’d been here, things hadn’t gone so well for you. 

The shower starts in the adjoined bathroom, and Spencer comes out a moment later, warm light seeping into the darkened bedroom. Purple and dark blue mixing with yellow, like a bruise. 

“Hey. Water’s warm.”

You hum, smoothing the material of his neatly made bed with your palm and watching the way it flattens. That had been your doing. You may have thought he was on the verge of breaking up with you last time you slept here, but you didn’t want to leave his home a mess. Didn’t want to leave any evidence of your having been here. 

A moment passes. You thumb at a thread and don’t look up. 

Spencer crosses the space without a word and crouches in front of you, hands coming up to cup the back of your legs, running knee to ankle and up again. 

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?” He asks softly. His voice wrings your heart out. Now that you’re in a completely different space, and you’re not so alone anymore, you’re struggling to sort out your feelings. It should be fine. You’re with Spencer. Presumably he still loves you. 

And you still feel terrible. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you whisper. 

“I know,” he says, just as quietly. 

Spencer doesn’t say anything else. I know you don’t want to—and yet. Your lips twist to the side. He’s persistent. Even in his kindness. It’s not the kind of care that falters or buckles when you try turning it away. 

“My neighbor said he c—” 

You’re forced to stop, frowning by how overcome you are. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Worse things have happened to you. 

“He said he could hear us. Last night.”

Spencer’s hands stop on your legs. You can’t meet his eyes. You’re afraid whatever you find there won’t be the right thing. 

“He’s in the unit next to you?”

You nod. “We share a wall.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation and your stomach sinks. He doesn’t understand. 

“What did he say?”

“Just… dumb shit,” you scoff, fiercely wiping away a stray tear. “He said he listened and it sounded like I was putting on quite the show. And then he—and then he told me not to let you… use me up, whatever that means. He called me fresh meat, and said I shouldn’t let you ride me hard and put me away wet, and bad things happen to sluts who can’t keep their legs closed.”

You finish with a sharp inhale, briefly leaning down and covering your face with your hands when you realize how upset you really are. You want to hide it. 

A fraught moment passes. Spencer reaches for your hands, no doubt to try and pull them away from your face. You spare him the trouble, sitting up with a cavalier sniff before he can touch you and brushing your hair behind your ears.  

His voice is uncomfortably quiet. You can’t look at him. “Baby…”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I only told you because you asked.”

It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyway, and so you avoid eye-contact like it’s the plague. Maybe it’s just safe to be mad at him. Maybe he knows that. 

Regardless, you’re not in the mood for coddling. It’s borderline repulsive—like trying to mix oil and water. Anything good slides right off of you because maybe you’re not designed to be able to absorb good things.

Nothing changes for a minute—and then he’s standing, offering you a moment alone as he goes to crank the shower off. 

As soon as he’s gone all the air is vacuumed from your lungs and you crumple, heaving it back in silently as your head spins and your heart races. It’s like your mind is split in two—half is primal, overwhelming panic, and the other a cold observatory eye, full of disdain and scorn for what it deems a severe overreaction to a few nasty comments made hours ago. You’re so tangled up as you curl in on yourself on your side that you can’t even cry. You’re just trying to remember how to breathe, ignoring the crawling feeling up your spine and the tingling heat at the back of your neck. The shower stops on the downbeat of your staggered breath, and then it’s silent. He’ll come back at any minute and see what a mess you’ve become. 

You’ve ruined everything. If only you could’ve kept it to yourself. 

When Spencer reappears in the doorway, and sees you collapsed and curling like paper burnt at the edges, he’s quick to return to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying and failing to brush away hair from your cheek, which is wet—so you were crying—and Spencer shushes you, pushing it away for you as he kneels. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m being dramatic, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Of course, at the end of that declaration, a sob wrenches its way from the depths of you, so bright and cleaving you half expect the smell of ozone to follow. You follow it with a blisteringly self-deprecating laugh.

“Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t minimize it.”

His hand is warm where it rests over your cheek, affectionate, but he sounds frustrated. You frown and sniffle. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell me his name.” 

It’s a quiet request, made as gently as his hand cards through the hair at your temple like it’s woven with fragile threads of gold.

“No, Spencer,” you beg, anxiety pooling in your gut and rising in your throat, “please, I don’t want to make it a thing, I don’t want you to talk to him. You’ll just make it worse, it’s fine.”

You look at him imploringly, eyes wide and still welling, hoping to god the gravity of your plead will sink in. His are a bed of coals—somewhere between furious and sympathetic, and you try to appeal to the sympathy. 

“It is not fine. Saying sluts get what’s coming to them is not fine, that is a threat, and I’m not going to talk to him. I’m going to have him fucking arrested.”

You scoff. 

“For talking to me? Yeah, good luck with that. Cops are really known for being helpful when it comes to sexual harassment.”

“Baby. Men who are comfortable violating your boundaries like that are exponentially more likely to commit an actual violent crime. That is not a safe person for you to be around.”

“He’s not gonna rape me, Spencer! He’s just a gross old man! This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d make it a bigger deal than it is! You did it last night and you’re doing it now—you think everyone is out to get me!”

To his credit, he doesn’t so much as raise his voice. 

“Of course it’s a big deal. You’re upset.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my own fault.”

Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say. Spencer goes silent for a moment. 

“It’s your fault?”

“Yes. It’s my fault because… because now everyone knows that I’m…”

His voice goes impossibly soft again. “Knows that you’re what?”

“I mean, what did I expect?” You sniffle. “It’s an apartment. If I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, I shouldn’t’ve done it.”

He says your name like it’s a ring he twists around his finger as he tries to think—to gather the right words. 

“The consequences for having sex do not involve punishment or sexual harassment.”

“It’s the result of my actions, so—”

“No, it’s the result of your neighbor being disgusting. I don’t care what he heard, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”

“He—”

“If you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear would you bring it up to the person the next day?”

“Stop interrupting me,” you plead. Spencer looks like he has something to say to that, too, but he swallows it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I… understand that he shouldn’t have said those things to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he did, and it was really, really uncomfortable and I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna go back now. Maybe that’s dramatic, but…”

You trail off, studying the ceiling as a fresh wash of tears dampen your cheeks. Spencer’s hand slides down your waist as you wipe your face. “I don’t regret the fact that we slept together. I just regret everything that’s happened since, and if I didn’t do it last night, none of this would’ve happened. I feel like he ruined everything.”

The words end on another cry and you put your hand over your eyes like you could stop it all from coming out. You sniffle. Spencer is quiet for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispers, his own voice threaded with emotion. “I…”

He sighs. You push your hair back and look at him. 

“What?”

He studies you, chewing on his lip like a nervous tick you’ve never seen before. You sit up again, feet balanced on the edge of the bed frame. Spencer’s eyes remain stuck on you. Again, you ask, “What?”

“I didn’t think about it until you brought it up earlier, but—I did see someone. Him, I think, when I went out to my car to get my bag. He was smoking when I came out, and when I got back into the lobby he was waiting for the elevator. We took it up together, he—he said something to me, so I know he saw me going back to you. I don’t know why he made it sound like I left.”

You frown. “What did he say?”

Spencer hesitates. 

“He asked if I had a long night. He was obviously commenting on the fact that I was basically half-dressed and getting an overnight bag from my car at one in the morning, so he could probably gather from context what was going on, but… my point is, he knew I came back and it seems like he was almost trying to make you think I didn’t. So for whatever reason, maybe he was lying about being able to hear you, too. Maybe he just wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s a long shot, Spencer.”

“I know, but… it’s not that long. He obviously gets off on it—and besides, he said you were putting on a show, but you weren’t… you weren’t loud, last night.”

Heats blossoms in your cheeks and you look down at your lap. “Thin walls.”

“Have you ever heard your neighbors before?”

You have to seriously think about it. 

“I’ve heard them yelling…”

“Nothing else?”

Again, you consider it. The answer comes as a surprise. 

“No.”

“Okay, so… does that maybe help a little bit? I really, really don’t want you to feel like last night was a mistake in any way, or let anyone ruin it for you.”

You breathe deeply. “I know. It… it kinda helps, yeah.”

His hands come to the top of your legs. There’s so much genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Only when you nod does he relax some. His hands skim your thighs, and you set yours on top of his own. For a few breaths, it’s quiet. And then you laugh. 

“What?” Spencer asks, a tentative smile curling his own lips like he doesn’t know if he should be concerned or participate in your mirth. 

“I—I don’t know how to say it without being cheesy,” you admit, sniffling the last of your tears away and smiling softly down at him. 

“I think you should say it.”

You link your fingers with his on your lap, watching the way they twine like it’s what they were meant to do. 

“I was just thinking about how I had, like, the worst day ever. And how much worse it would’ve gotten if you didn’t show up when you did—I would’ve completely spiraled. But you did show up. And how easy it is to kind of compartmentalize, because I have you, and when I’m with you… nothing feels as hard. You make the bad things feel smaller, I guess.”

By the end, it got a lot more real than you’d intended, and your face feels warm, and your stomach is sort of floaty—but you don’t look away from Spencer. You hold his gaze, though it makes you a little nervous, because you want him to know you mean it. 

He inhales, like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t—only looks at you, like you’re beautiful and impossible and a defiance of everything he thought he knew, which was almost everything. To him, you’re expansive. A gorgeous anomaly.

And then he stands, holding his hands out for you. Without question you take them, and he pulls you to your feet, absorbing the momentum that threatens to topple you, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. So tight you have to laugh. 

“I love you,” he says against your shoulder, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head. 

Your humor softens, but doesn’t become inflexible—still tinges your words with the perfect amount of euphoria and relief. “I love you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and your laughter flares again. 

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I’m grateful. I… I feel lucky.”

Always so earnest, so vulnerable, when you’re least expecting it—which should be always, you’re learning. You pull back to look up at him. You don’t want that concession to go unrewarded. 

“Me too,” you say softly. He’s doing that fond thing with his eyes, where they’re all soft and it’s like he’s trying to take in every millimeter of your face. This time when he goes to touch your hair, you have the wherewithal to dodge it. 

“You’re really brave for trying to touch my hair right now.”

“Why?” He asks, utterly bewildered, and the softness of the moment falls away easily, but not without leaving everything smudged and fuzzy around the edges. Everything is still okay. It’s still good. 

“Because it’s dirty,” you laugh, dodging him again and eventually ducking from the circle of his arms entirely. 

“Oh, your hair is dirty? Should we breakup?”

“Hm. I don’t really like when you take on that tone with me.” You’re still half-laughing, dipping and weaving past him toward the bathroom as he tries to get you in his arms again. And then you stop, toes just short of the tile. 

“What is it?” He asks after another moment. You blink, looking at the shower head as it drips. 

“Um—would it be okay if I had a five minute headstart in the shower?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just… I need a minute.”

His hand skims your waist as he passes by you through the open door. “Okay. Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll get the water going again?”

Soon enough, you’re remembering how much better his water pressure is than yours as you stand under the torrent, eyes closed as if in prayer. You definitely could’ve stood to shower earlier in the day. But you had other concerns, earlier, and besides—you were afraid of what you might find. 

And you were right to be. The sex was nice. The aftermath isn’t quite as pretty. 

When Spencer taps on the bathroom door, you’re nervous. 

“You can come in,” you call. 

“You sure? If you want it all to yourself, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

The door creaks open, and gently clicks into place again, and fabric rustles as he undresses, and soon the shower curtain is sliding aside and he’s stepping in. Unsurprisingly, the space feels smaller with him in it—but not small in a bad way. It feels warmer. Again you’re awash in that safe feeling, which you didn’t realize you’d been missing so much today. 

“Hi,” he smiles, a teasing sliver of what you know to be the most brilliant light in the world, and stunning like the rest of him as you watch the water begin to darken his hair. 

“Hello.”

His smile flickers briefly wider like you’re his favorite thing and he just can’t contain his joy, and then it’s easing again, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

In this alien context the idea has your heart pounding—you don’t really understand the concept of casual nudity yet, but you know he’ll respect your earlier wishes to keep it chaste and so you nod. 

Spencer doesn’t take you immediately in his arms like you’d expected—instead his hands find a rest at your collarbones and carefully push your wet hair back over your shoulders—but his eyes aren’t cast quite low enough to be indecent. They connect dots over your chest and neck, and he thumbs at one just over your pulse point. 

“Oh, man,” he laughs, and you think you detect a hint of self-deprecation. “That’s… wow, I didn’t realize I… sorry. They don’t hurt, do they?”

It’s your turn to smile as he’s suddenly over-concerned. 

“No, they don’t hurt.”

“Good.” He looks relieved, but it doesn’t last as his eyes trace lower—though you don’t sense any hunger in it. He’s just taking you in. “How about everywhere else?”

“Um… it’s not bad. Kind of, like… I don’t know. Sore. But it’s not bad.”

“Still?” He frowns, clearly unfazed by your evident embarrassment on the subject. You shrug and avert your eyes. 

“It’s fine. it was worse earlier, so.”

That does not have the calming effect you’d intended. 

“Worse? 1-10, how—”

“Spencer, it’s fine, I promise. It’s only when I—when I move certain ways, I notice. Honestly the… blood… was way more disconcerting to me.”

“Yeah, I saw your bed… sorry for ruining your sheets. I’ll buy you new ones.”

You shrug, watching the water run in rivulets down your arm and branch off into tributaries and waterfalls from your fingers. “You don’t have to do that. It was a collaborative effort.”

Normally this conversation would have you melting into an embarrassed puddle, but something about the tile cocoon of the shower, the humid fog, the proximity, feels safe. The white noise of water on porcelain, the warmth. You go to him at the same time as he comes to you—his arms around your waist, yours slung over his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. Falling asleep standing up has never seemed so plausible until now. 

He presses a kiss to your head. You sigh. 

“Ugh. I don’t want to deal with washing my hair.”

“I can do it,” Spencer immediately offers. You frown. 

“I was—you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was asking.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“It’s a process.”

“I understand.”

“You would have to do it exactly how I say.”

“I am willing to learn. I like taking care of you.”

You’re glad for the hot water, then, and as he washes your hair. You’re not sure if you’re crying at the tenderness of his touch, or the way he loves you like you’re easy to love. You’re too tired to explain it. 

He doesn’t push you, because he never pushes you. 

He just washes your hair. 

-

part ten

[l1tw1ck]

Thunder

Bottom!FTM Cloud Strife x Top!Male Reader

⛈️ Word Count: 1,799 ⛈️

While out on a mission, you and Cloud get caught in a sudden thunderstorm, forcing you to find shelter for the night until it stops. But after a couple days, there aren't any signs of it letting up

AFAB Language Used | I had writer's block and got bored so i decided to finally continue playing final fantasy. I stopped like 30 minutes in to write this fic at 12AM. i put down the game (temporarily! i love it) after the section 8 stuff so i'm sorry for any inaccuracies, just needed to take advantage of this burst of motivation

CW: Rape/Non-Con, Somnophilia, Power Imbalance, Frottage, Teasing, Creampie

You peek outside the window, or what was left of it, of the broken down building you're in then turn to Cloud. “Looks like we’ll have to stay the night.” Lightning strikes to reinforce your words. “Think you can handle it, pretty boy?”

“Stop treating me like a rookie.” Cloud sighs. “And stop calling me pretty boy.”

“It's hard when you look like an adorable little kitten.” You smile.

He rolls his eyes and looks around for burnable items.

“It's like watching a lion cub hunt and gather.”

“I can't wait for this night to be over.” He groans. “How about you do something useful, captain?”

“Like what, kitty?”

Cloud grips the damp piece of wood in his hand in annoyance. “Like maybe finding things to keep the water out of here.” He tosses the wood aside.

“Sure.” You stretch.

The two of you worked together to make the old building livable for the night and went to sleep thinking it’d be over by morning.

Cloud wakes up to the loud sound of thunder and sighs. He sees you leaning against the wall. “It's still raining.”

“It sure is.” You chuckle. “We might be here for a while, kitty. Unless you want to run out and somehow dodge all that lightning?”

The two of you are way too far from the base to even consider doing that. The job pays well but not enough for Cloud to not be annoyed with this sudden detour. “I better get a bonus for this.”

“Of course. You could get paid even more if you did me a little favor.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“About 60,000 gil plus your bonus pay.”

“What is it?” He asks, attentive.

You smirk. “Since we're gonna be stuck here for who knows how long, I think it’d be nice to do something as a…pastime of sorts.”

“Stop beating around the bush.”

You motion for him to come over. He rolls his eyes and gets up. “I know you're talented in so many ways,” You grab his wrist and pull him close to you. “And I wanna see if you're talented in this way too.”

He pushes you and steps back, his cheeks red. “Don't even think about it.”

“It was worth a shot.” You laugh.

He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.

The sun set and the sky continued to pour. Then days passed. You rationed food and managed to find other edible things to keep yourselves alive but the situation isn't all that great for you. You're still functioning, but just by a small margin.

The two of you were able to collect rainwater to drink and help yourselves clean up. Cloud insisted on doing it upstairs so you wouldn't watch him. You promised you wouldn't but you were lying.

As time went on, it was getting harder and harder to keep it in your pants. Your mental state started to get a little wonky thanks to your body not getting all the nutrients it needs. You couldn't stop thinking about how much you wanted him, especially since it was better than thinking about food. It got to a point where you couldn't even fall asleep.

You look at Cloud’s sleeping face, studying the slight movements in his facial muscles as he dreams. The soft glow of your lamp allows you to properly see him despite the darkness. His chest slowly rises and falls. You know if you made an attempt, he’d wake up, any good soldier would. But it's getting hard to control yourself. Being in such close proximity with him is driving you mad. You hesitantly, and very softly, touch his shoulder. He doesn't react. You poke his cheek. Nothing. You pause.

You trace your finger down his chest and to his pants. You carefully unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn't seem to notice you pulling them down. You take in a small breath. You're so nervous it feels like there's a hole in your chest. You remove his boxers at an agonizingly slow pace. You gulp as you start to see his pussy. Light blond tufts of hair beautifully surround his soft, pudgy cunt and his t-dick. You look at him. He's sleeping peacefully. He must be more tired than usual tonight.

You gently pull his underwear down his ankles and place it on the end of the blanket he’s laying on. You carefully spread his legs and slot yourself in between them. As you begin to free your aching hard dick, you start to feel a little bad. You tell yourself to give him a huge bonus after this. You gently rub your cock along his pussy, knowing you can definitely get off just by doing this. You don't want it to hurt, at least not too much, so you decide not to penetrate him since your luck would probably run out if you tried to prep him properly.

You bite down on your lip. The view is making you feel dizzy. Your ears drown out the sounds of the thunder storm and focus entirely on Cloud. On his soft, gentle breaths and the squelching sound of his wet pussy, aroused by your cock pressing itself against it. Your heart starts to pound louder, ruining your focus on Cloud.

You let out a breathy gasp as you begin to feel your climax approaching. Your eyes flicker over to his face, watching to make sure he's still asleep. You don't know how you’ve gotten this far but you're no longer so sure that you’ll be able to stop here. Your movements stutter as your cum splatters on his body.

“Cloud..” You whisper. His lack of reaction emboldens you to keep going. You move back and slide your middle finger inside his cunt. Squelch. It sucks it in with ease, and same with your ring finger. You slowly open him up while using your free hand to jerk yourself off. He twitches. You pause and look at him before continuing.

You eventually decide to stop and finally get to the good part. You gently lift Cloud’s legs and position the tip of your cock in front of his entrance. You take your time easing into him while constantly checking if he's awake.

Once you're finally fully inside, you take a couple minutes to take everything in. You're in serious disbelief but way too horny to be concerned about it. You know that, at this point, if he wakes up, you’ll be able to overpower him.

You slowly thrust into him, happily indulging in the wonders of Cloud Strife’s pussy. You gently caress his t-dick, smiling when you start to hear him whimper. “You feel so good, Cloud– ‘s like you were made for me, to tempt me..” You murmur, gradually picking up the pace. “I didn't think it’d be so easy…”

“Maybe you're not even asleep. No properly trained soldier would sleep through something like this…I wonder if you're enjoying this. Getting off on me assaulting you in your sleep like a slut.” You notice his cheeks starting to turn red. A chill runs down your spine as you start to get a feeling your assumption is correct. “You like this, Cloud? Letting yourself get taken advantage of? Does it feel good getting treated like a cocksleeve?”

He whimpers, his cunt squeezing you.

“I know you're awake. Answer me.”

His eyes flutter open, his face flushed and deliciously seductive. “It– it feels good-!” He moans.

“Good boy.” You grin. You never would've thought Cloud would be into something like this. You roughly pound into him. He cries out in pleasure, feeling his orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside and you're gonna take it like the good kitty you are.”

“Ye- yes–!” He shuts his eyes, squirting on your dick. His mouth hangs open as the aftershocks hit him. He smiles dreamily as he feels your cum flow inside of him.

You stop and catch your breath. “Did you reject me hoping this would happen?”

Cloud nods softly. “I didn't think it would…but I wanted it to.”

…..........

He pushes you and steps back. “Don't even think about it.”

“It was worth a shot.”

He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.

Cloud climbed the semi-intact stairs and explored the second floor of the building. There wasn't anything noteworthy inside but it did give him much needed privacy. No room to lay down but he didn't need to anyway.

He walked behind a wall to hide himself in case you decided to follow him, and unbuckled his pants. He stuck his hand down them and gently caressed his t-dick. He always knew you were attracted to him, it wasn't like you were hiding it, and he pretended that he hated it. He loves your pet names and the lustful way you look at his body. Part of him hoped that one day, you’d just force yourself on him and claim him like a prize. He didn't think it'd ever happen but he never got tired of fantasizing about it. He hoped he'd have some sort of opportunity for you to finally make your move.

He'd imagine you cornering him in the locker room showers and covering his mouth to make sure no one finds out.

Cloud sneakily rubs his sensitive nipples against the cold wall tiles as you enter him. “Shh, this is what you get for being such a tease.” You spank him, your cock forcefully entering his pussy. Cloud shivers at the sounds of your heavy breathing. He can tell how aroused you are and how much you love his body. He rolls his eyes back as you stretch him wide open, his own heavy breaths making him feel lightheaded.

Or he’d imagine you giving him an ultimatum and forcing him to submit to you in exchange for keeping his job.

Cloud fakes a look of disgust as he stares at your rock hard cock. He looks up at you then back at your length, hesitating before enveloping it in his mouth. “There you go, Cloud, finally doing what I hired you for.” You praise him. He shudders at the thought, his pussy throbbing with need. “This is what you should be doing, not out on the battlefield but here, pleasing me.”

He looks up at you, trying to look angry. You smirk and push his head down, forcing him to shift his focus back.

His latest fantasy was about being trapped together. He hoped that something would happen to keep the two of you together for a long time. And he’d tease you even more to frustrate you. Then you’d finally do it.

He didn't think that exact scenario would actually play out.

[localkiss]

Pray to Leon, He's Your God

pairing: kidnapper!leon x f!reader

cw: creampies, afab terms used, pet names galore, ooc leon, mean and desperate leon, power abuse, degrading, praising, god complex, religion, praying during sex, ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, dumbification, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mentions of stalking, implied drugging, nipple play, somno, rape, hickey's, squirting, aftercare, las plagas mentions, control freak Leon lol, absolutely nasty dirty talk, spit kink, oral fixation, Ashley/Spain mission mentions...lmk if I missed anything >_< !

wc: 3.5k! hehehee a shorter fic for rn !

tags: @rigorwhoring @adiorxia @angelstargel @leonkennedygvrl @dilfstar @leonsdolly @dollfacefantasy @bonnibuckets @bunnyclaire @bwruisedkiss (tagging some moots :3 sry if u don't wanna be tagged gahhhh)

a/n: i didn't proof read much .. didn't edit much .. so um ignore anything weird. If it's messy n awkward uhhh GO WITH IT OK. 😮‍💨

“Baby,” he coos in your ear. Soft and sweet like he loves you. “open up.” Coaxing your mouth open for his thumb to slip inside.

The strange man dotes on you like a long-lost lover. Your brain is too foggy to even remember where you had met him if you did that. Tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you roll your head to the side, blinking extremely slowly, taking in the room around you.

A desk with a computer, two monitors and a gun lays on it. A couple of knives and a pack of gum too. You swear you can make out your panties and bra that went missing a few weeks ago on his desk as well. Makes you frown slightly.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth and wipes the saliva on your lips, dragging it across your cheek. Like he's dragging his cock and tapping it all over your face. Get you all messy.

You swallow thickly, head swirling, body feeling heavy and numb all at once. Tears pricking your eyes as you lay beneath the dirty blonde in confusion.

“Who..” is all you can croak out, blinking the water down your cheeks.

“Shh baby… relax. I'm here to take care of you like you should be taken care of. Mkay?” He murmurs soft and sweet. Wiping away the tears.

Only then do you realize you're naked and he's only adorned in his boxers. How long has he been waiting for you to wake up? You don't even know what day it is or the time.

Weird as it is, you find yourself relaxing under his guidance, mimicking his steady breathing.

“Want some water, honey? Just stay here and be a good girl for me, alright?” He kisses your forehead, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from his fridge. Coming back with long, quick strides. “Here, sit up and open your mouth.” Helping you sit up against the pillows.

Slowly pouring the water into your mouth. Pulling away as soon as it fills up, watching you drink it. Repeating this step a few times before he sets it next to his bed.

“Good girl.” The man hums, patting your head like you're a dog.

“Mm… who are you?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, asking the question hesitantly.

“My name's Leon, baby. Do you not remember me?’

Shaking your head, he sighs. It's not like he expected you to remember him. The two of you met briefly at some sort of party and once the both of you were drunk, you got all handsy. Wanting him to fuck you in his car.

That was like right after he got back from his mission in Spain too. He swears Ashley didn't fully kill off the plagas in his body with the machine. It's whatever. What doesn't kill him only makes him stronger, he thinks. Unless this possessive, obsessive, need for you is something else. But then he doesn't want to end up like Major Krauser, all mutated and weird. He hopes it's something else.

“S’okay. We met a couple of times at a few parties. Got to know each other a little bit and slept with each other. And you gave me your phone number… here we are.” Maybe he's lying. Maybe he's not. You'd never know the difference as it feels like it's mostly true. Which it is. But he certainly didn't get your number through legal ways.

“Okay, Leon.” You mumble, limbs barely moving as you try to turn to your side. Wanting to rest a little bit.

“Wanna sleep, baby? Cuddle up with daddy?” He coos down at you, warm hands shifting you around and pulling the blanket over the both of you. His warm toned body is behind yours as he cradles you like a baby.

Soft kisses planted on your cheeks and one on your neck. You feel your face get red hot as you nuzzle into the pillow. “Mmh,” replying to his first question with a soft grunt.

Leon hums, “Goodnight baby girl. Sweet dreams.”

You don't even bother replying. Not like you could as you find yourself instantly asleep. Feeling his warmth behind you lulls you to your dreamscape.

Not long after you fall asleep, Leon kisses his way down your body. Maneuvering you to lay on your back. You sigh and open your legs, rolling your head to the side.

He sucks on your nipples, not biting down hard enough to wake you. Just to tease your unconscious body. Swapping between the two and massaging the other one he doesn't have his mouth on. God forgive him, for he cannot wait any longer.

Trailing a wet path down to your pussy, he moves the blankets up over you both. Making sure you're nice and warm as he feasts on you. He's not going to deprive you of your rest and warmth. Leon's not that big of an asshole.

“So pretty. Pretty fucking juicy pussy. All mine.” Kissing and nipping the skin around your vulva. Leaving light marks for him to enjoy later on.

Leon kitten licks your clit, groaning as he tastes you on his tongue. Tangy but so fucking good. Heaven. God created you for him, he's sure. Kissing all over your pussy, tonguing around your opening as he feels your body automatically flutter.

It's like she knows who owns her already. That got him smiling as he licks you open slowly and teasingly. Eyes fluttering shut as he immerses himself in the feeling and warmth of your body wrapped around his head.

He sucks on your clit, gently biting down on it. Wearing it down as he takes turns licking into you and sucking on your clit like a hard candy. If you were a flavor, he'd always buy your flavor. Make it his cologne, his soap, his detergent. So he can always be enveloped in you. And only you.

Slurping up your juices as he pulls away. Kissing each thigh tenderly, as his hips rock against the bed. Tasting you makes him harder than obsidian.

That night when he got your panties and bra after you guys fucked in his car drunkenly. He held them up to his nose and sniffed them so much, that people would've thought there were cocaine remnants in them.

But no, he was just addicted to the way you smelled and tasted. The way you cried on his tongue and begged him to just fuck you already. To stop teasing you.

Did he fuck you until you saw white? Yes, very much so. Until you squirted and made his arms bleed? Yep! He even went so far as to make you cum so much you couldn't even remember his name, just, “daddy, daddy, daddyyy!” Until you became a sobbing mess for him.

Of course, he gave you what you wanted the most though! His cum deep inside of your cunt. Multiple creampies. You truly emptied his balls. Couldn't get hard for the next couple of days. Truly washed over his libido to a much calmer state of mind.

He hovers over you, making sure to bring the blankets over his broad shoulders. Shifting his boxers down low enough to get his cock and balls free. Slowly rubbing up and down your slit with his tip. He lets out a soft groan, pushing into you and gritting his teeth to not wake you up from how loud he wants to be.

“Hail Mary, full of grace…” he begins slowly, “The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Fuck.. Holy Mary, mother of—fucking—God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death.” Leaning his head down into the crook of your neck. Repeating it again and again in his mind, louder and louder each time. Drowning out all the white noise in his ears.

Maybe it's just tinnitus but he thinks it's the plagas trying to invade his mind once more. He justifies his actions by blaming it on a virus infection. Your pussy is his fix. Only if you were just a bit more submissive like you were when you were drunk, maybe he would think of you as somebody he should kneel to. To worship.

“Amen. Amen, God fucking damn.” Leon rocks in and out, matching the pace of your breathing. He moans into your ear, gripping the fat of your hips before moving his hands to push your legs up to your chest. Immediately putting you into a mating press.

Licking and nibbling on each part of your neck that is exposed to his eyes, he mumbles sweet praises to your sleeping body.

“Yeah, good girl. Taking this cock so well, hm? Yeah?”

“Fuck baby, pussy squeezin' me like she doesn't wanna let go of me.”

“Mmm.. shit. Wanna make you mine. My wife. I'll get to do this to you every day. All y’gotta do is just lay there and be pretty f’me princess.”

“Yeah, yeah… take it. So fucking cute seeing your expressions and feeling your body enjoy me while you're asleep. You thinking about me baby? Dreaming about me ruining you in your sleep while I do it in real life?”

You try to shift around in your sleep and furrow your eyebrows. Letting out a low whine as your eyes roll around before opening hesitantly. “Mmph.. Leon?”

“Awwh, good afternoon sleepyhead.” He coos down at you, peppering your cheeks in kisses, rubbing up and down your sides. “Did daddy's dick wake you up?”

“Yeah,” you flutter around his length, barely processing what's happening. Only feeling full of him and his warm body pressing you into the blankets. Hands clutching onto his firm biceps weakly, digging your blunt nails into his pale skin.

Leon laughs cruelly, his hips rabbiting into your squelching heat with vigor. Half moaning into your ear, his hot breath tickling you faintly. “Shit. Look at me, baby. Who owns you? Let me fucking know who owns this pussy.”

Whimpering, your toes curl as a heat wave of embarrassment rolls down your spine. “Unhh… you do.”

He clicks his tongue at you and stops his hips, fully deep inside of you. “That's not who I am, princess. Now say it again or I won't fuck you.”

“Daddy…”

“Yeah, that's me. Now, use your big girl words and tell me who owns this pussy baby.”

“Daddy owns this pussy. Daddy owns me…” you squeeze your legs against his sides. Impossibly tight around his cock, earning a groan from him. Nails were almost close enough to draw blood from his arms.

“Good girl. Such a smart cookie, yeah? All it took was daddy having to be a bit firm with his baby.” He presses his lips to yours, capturing you in a messy, feverish kiss. Teeth clashing as he starts to thrust in and out. Tongue swiping all across your mouth, letting you suck on it briefly before he pulls away.

One hand holding up his weight, the other one squeezing your lips together. Dipping down to spit into your mouth. Smirking as he hears your little noises of pleasure.

“Knew my baby would like that. So dirty.” He moves your face up and down, forcing you to nod. “Look, you're agreeing with me. Such a slut, eager for her daddy. Mhmm…”

Leon's lips are the only thing you can focus on. Besides his dick, of course. “Daddy,” you spread your fingers around his face. Like you're in awe of him, putting them into his mouth curiously. “please?”

He gently bites down, licking and sucking on your fingers playfully. Dark oceanic eyes narrowing and analyzing you. “Baby wants my fingers in her mouth?”

Bingo. You don't even have to respond, just the look of surprise in your eyes is enough for him. He presses a wet kiss to your palm and wrist. Slipping his thumb into your mouth as he speeds up his hips.

Cock jumps inside of you as you close your eyes. Sucking on it with fervor makes him swallow a whine of his own. God, you'll bring out the desperate whiny side of him someday.

He'll still dominate you through the whines and whimpers, of course. Can't let his precious baby try to top him. It'd be so cute.

Watching you fail and beg for daddy to take over. He'd let you try though, but he'd know he'll forever be in charge. Just lending you the ‘power’ for the moment.

“Mmhhf baby. Don't do that. Daddy's gonna shoot his load inside you early. We wouldn't want that. Ain't that right pumpkin?” Leon hums, pushing down on your tongue with his thumb. Enjoying the way you drool around it and bite on it like he's some sort of oral stress relieving toy. Or gum. Not that he minds being your fix to your oral issue.

You loosely have a grip on his arm, sort of not wanting him to leave your mouth. Fluttering your eyelashes up at him, he presses his forehead against yours. Lowering his body so that he can barely pull out of you.

“Sweetheart, let daddy hold himself up with his other hand. Wanna play with your cute cunt. Make you cream all over this dick.” He pry’s himself out of your mouth, replacing it with his lips on yours. As he brings his other hand down to press tight and fast circles against your clit.

Lifting up so he can watch you fall apart on him. “Good girl. Such a sweet girl, letting her daddy do whatever he wants. Hmm? Isn't that right? Yeah,” he kisses your forehead tenderly.

At this point, you're babbling out nonsense. In your mind, you are agreeing with him. Out loud, you're saying, “daddy please.” As your walls squeeze around him tight like a vice.

He doesn't want to be too much of an asshole and make you use your dumb puppy brain, but there's a part of him that needs you to beg him to let you cum. Make you call him a God.

‘Please god, let me cum, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.’ Something along those lines will do it for him. Fill that womb up with his sticky white cum.

“Want daddy to let you cum?” Leon's gonna slowly fade into it. Have you wrapped around his little finger. Just as he is wrapped around your body like a snake does to its victim. To its food.

“Uhuh, please daddy. Wanna cum,” you mewl out shamelessly. Tears gathering up in your pretty beady eyes. Goddamn, you look gorgeous.

“C'mon puppy. Use that pretty little brain and beg daddy correctly. Daddy'll even give you a hint, baby doll. Beg for God, because aren't I the owner of you? The one who fulfills your dreams, needs, and wants? Hmm?” There's this crazy look in his eyes. Black little veins popping up in his skin, looking similarly to a dead person. But it's also fucking hot how he looks so psychotic and desperate for you. And only you.

“Daddy—God, mmmph… please let me cum. Please!” Can't help the moans escape as he smacks his fingers against your swollen, sensitive bud. Your fingernails attach themselves to his chest, dragging red welts down to his abs. Feeling them flex as he groans in pain.

“That's right bunny, that's right. Cum for me. Cream all over this fat dick,” he purrs as he spanks your clit extra hard, in time with a deeper and harder thrust.

Watching you as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth going slack. Holding you still as you tremble as you thrash around, orgasm still ringing around your body hard. Seeing you like this beneath him has his own climax running up on him. But he wants to make you watch as he fucks his cum into your womb.

“Baby,” Leon shushes, pressing faint kisses around your temples. “Look at me. Watch daddy's cock go in and out of your pretty pussy. Look at how daddy's stretching you out, baby girl. There's even a little bump from daddy.” He lifts up so you can look down between the two of you comfortably.

Still pulsing around him, he pushes down on the bulge. Listening to your cute little squeals of overstimulation. “God's gonna give you a baby now. Say, thank you, God. Thank you Leon for blessing me with your seed.” He half moans half chuckles, giving your cheek a couple of soft slaps.

“T-thank you God—Leon please… bless me with your cum…!” You sort of get it right. It's not like he's a stickler for how you say things or actually, repeat them back to him. Leon likes the control. So all is well.

He chants your name, rabbiting his hips even harder now. Eyes closed and forehead against yours. Whining as he gets closer and closer.

Leon groans as he feels your pussy greedily sucking him in. His hand immediately starts to rub your swollen nerves. “Gonna make you cum again and then I'll pump you full of it.”

You cry out, kicking and scratching at him. “S’too much! Can't cum again!” Lies. All lies.

“You can take it and you will take it. C'mon puppy. Know you can do it for me,” he coaxes another one out of you. Albeit slower this time.

Syrupy goodness coats your brain as you hiccup his name, going frigid beneath him. Oh, there you have it. Sprung a leak around his cock. You can't help but scream and hold onto him tightly. Cunt practically pushing him out because of how intense this one is.

The sight of you squirting uncontrollably has his cock kicking and spurting his hot, thick semen in your insides. Slowing his movements down he moans.

It's like it's never ending. Maybe Leon was backed up for a while and is gonna get you pregnant with triplets. Feels like it with the way he keeps pumping you full.

“Good girl. Good job. So good for me, mhmm… gonna keep you plugged up. Make sure it takes, yeah?” He coos soft and sweet, whining pathetically as his dick softens. All sensitive now.

Leon sounds so good, you think. All desperate for you.

You hum, blearily watching him maneuver the two of you around. Slumping against his chest, his warm hands soothe your sides. Giving him a soft kiss on his chest in reply. Too fuzzy-headed and dumb to even form an actual response. Not like he wanted one, it was probably more of a rhetorical question.

“That's it, baby. Rest on my chest. I'll clean us up once you're ready.” Giving the apex of your head a long kiss, he wraps his muscular arms around your frail, trembling figure.

Slowly pulling you into a deep slumber. With rainbows and sunshine.

Possibly an hour or two goes by and you wake up to warm water soothing your aching muscles. A soapy sponge rubbing your front side. Leaning back into him, you relax and let him do his thing.

“So pretty baby,” he sighs, grabbing a cup and slowly pouring it over your soapy body. Being careful not to get your face wet. “Does this feel nice?”

You nod immediately, scratching your scalp for a moment. Scooting away from him, grabbing your hair and giving him a good view of your back. Silently asking him to wash it.

The soapy sponge gently runs into your skin, over your shoulders and arms. Dipping down to your lower back before carefully going around your neck. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head once more. Washing it all off before he lets you lay there against him.

Can't help but yawn and stretch. This is going to make you fall asleep again! “Daddy. Want to go to bed.”

“Hmm.. okay. Let's get you out of here. Daddy'll put you in the cutest outfit.” He grabs the towel and wraps it around you. Drying you off before he dries himself off. “Lift your arms for me.”

You close your eyes sleepily and lift your arms, feeling him tug a loose shirt over your head. And you instinctively lift your foot, allowing him to put panties on you and pajama pants.

Opening your eyes you see that it's Hello Kitty. Biting your lip, you watch Leon get dressed. Quietly zoning out on his chest.

Leon picks you up bridal style with ease. Despite you being a little chubby, he acts like you weigh like nothing.

“Snuggle close to daddy, sweetheart.” He sets you down, pulling the covers over the both of you. Reaching down to grab a stuffed animal he had under his bed. One he bought in advance. Thinking you'd like it.

It's a cute little shark! Leon puts it next to you as he wraps his arms around you securely. “Sweet dreams baby.”

“Sweet dreams daddy.” You mumble in return, putting the shark in your arms as you snuggle into his warm chest with a huff.

Maybe next time he'll force you on your knees and make you worship him. And if you don't do it right, he'll baptize you with his special white liquid until you immediately submit to him. To praise him as a higher being. But, first and foremost, he's your daddy, before he's your God.

[finsplurtz]

Can you do something with Bakugou and rape?

loosen up, yeah? — katsuki.bakugo

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Katsuki.Bakugo

— contents : drunk sex , non con , you get bakugo drunk n fuck him , this is kinda iffy i’ve never written noncon before oops also rlly short gulp

warnings : R@PE!!! be currrful

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Katsuki Bakugo is insanely pretty. that’s what you first noticed about him when you met him, he had a nice face, beautiful eyes. second thing you noticed was how cold and rude he was to everyone, even his friends, and you were going to be the first person he truly respects.

you got along with all the other people, izuku and shoto, uraraka and tsu, they alll loved having you around and you all had fun when you guys hung out.

then there was bakugo who didn’t give a fuck that you were there, he basically ignored you.

to end the night everyone went out for drinks, one thing you knew about bakugo was that he wasn’t a lightweight, it definitely took a lot to get him drunk.

you sat down next to him at the table and passed him a glass with wine in it.

“drink?” you ask. he hummed before taking the glass and downing the drink. he did this for a couple times throughout the night but then he stopped.

“guys i’ll go get more to drink, you guys still going?” you ask getting out of your seat. all of them were still for drinking and you looked at bakugo who shook his head.

“mh… bakugo help me with the drinks!” you pat his back innocently hoping he would go with you, took a while before he finally gave in with an grunt of annoyance.

“you don’t wanna get wasted tonight bakugo? i mean look at everyone else, they’re already pretty drunk…” you start conversation as you both wait for the drinks to come.

“no i don’t want to wake up with hangover.”

.

.

“cmon, have some fun! drink with us~” you coo. bakugo shoos you away declining your offer. you grab one of the drinks on the counter and firmly grab his jaw, looking down at him.

“just a bit more, kay? loosen up.” you smile as you bring a glass to his mouth and slowly pour it into his mouth, he brought his hand up to stop you but drank the alcohol anyway. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked away.

“there you go, let’s try to have fun tonight!” you grab the rest of the drinks and he follows after.

the whole night you tried to get this blonde as drunk as possible, passing him more drinks, playing drinking games, pouring them down his throat yourself. by the end everyone was on the brink of passing out, bakugo could barely stand without stumbling.

you were a bit dizzy but managed. you sent everyone home safely and kept bakugo with you.

“drank quite a lot, huh bakugo.” you ask the man in your passenger seat who didn’t respond. he noticed you weren’t taking the route to his house and looked at you, you just kept your eyes on the road.

you guys got to your home and you helped him get up and out the car. bakugo was still conscious, aware of his surroundings, you needed him to down just a couple more drinks…

right as he sat on your couch you got some vodka out and placed it in front of him.

“imma throw up…” bakugo said, some hiccups leaving him.

“expensive kind. tastes good” you popped down next to him and poured him a glass anyway. you had to force feed him the drink and he wasn’t really putting up that much of a fight.

he started to blank out and he barely recalls passing out.

.

bakugo groans as he wakes up, hands feeling around at the sheets of the bed he was laying on. he opens his tired eyes and his breathing pace picks up when he sees his legs propped up on your shoulders, your dick already buried deep in his heat.

“w..what..” he has a migraine, you’re grinning devilishly, running your hands all over his thighs.

“morning pretty..” you whisper.

“wha….are…s-stop..” the blonde is about to start freaking out as realization sets in, he’s pulling his legs back and you take the opportunity to push them against him into a mating press, slamming deep into him.

“NOUH..~!” His eyes roll back as your huge length digs deep inside him. Tears begin to fall down his face as more painful moans leave him.

“you look prettier when you cry, baby~” you taunt as you set a pace and keep fucking into him. He’s trying to say something back but he’s speechless, you’re pulling moans out of his like crazy and he’s never felt this good.

his legs are trembling and he’s gasping pathetically, tears blurring his field of vision. you move his legs and start to jerk him off with one of you’re hands, groaning at the feelings of him tightening around you.

“fuh- hm..~ stop…p..lease..” he begs, barely even able to look at you. you’re just going at it faster, watching his tummy bulge at how far in your cock is hitting him.

“just…a second.. haa..” you’re thrusts get wonky and you whine when you finally fill him up with your semen, a cry leaving him.

Nothing but panting could be heard as you both calm down. just as you were pulling out, the blonde gave you a hard kick to the chest. you roll of the bed throwing a coughing fit.

you look back at him with a glare and see him filled with tears of rage. he’s covering his body up and shaking.

“so beautiful..”

a/n: wait ts so buns mb😭😭🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿

[deluluass]

Time cast a spell on you

Content warnings: rape/noncon; graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-harm; implied suicide; name-calling; degradation; misogyny Other tags: heavy angst; yakuza AU; multiverse; reincarnation; actually just an old lady's excuse to finally write a silver springs angstfic

*SUMMARY*

There are two things about his life that Sukuna knows to be true.

One—

He was born to rise above all men.

And, two—

This is not the first time.

**

It's like picking a flower when he takes you on his lap. "Wanna hear about the little shit from earlier?" he groans into your ear, squeezing your ass.

"Sir, the blade."

You're keeping yourself from landing where he's got his thighs spread apart— prude bitch, but he is who he is. And you're just not strong enough.

"All good, doll," Sukuna reassures you.

The straight razor in your hand could cut his throat. You're not being stupid for keeping it at arm's length. It's old— the kind of thing brown-nosers would call vintage, collected and well-cared for with a gold handle— but it sure as hell can nick and make a caught fish out of a grown man. He knows because he’s since developed an eye for these things. That’s why when it was gifted to him a few years back, he had done nothing more but make the guy lick the toe of his shoe for being so thoughtful towards poor, fatherless Sukuna.

He offers his throat to you and juts out his chin, stubble lathered with cream.

“Just be careful,” he teases.

You go to work without a word. The blade is a kiss against the barely-there hair. You glide your hand sure as can be, fingers resting over the shank, until half of his face is as smooth as a baby’s bum. Water drips from the faucet and clinks into the wide porcelain tub behind him.

The silence could tick off even a monk.

“Anyway, this man, right?” Sukuna begins to mutter, curling his lips in once you shave over his mouth. “Drove me up the wall today, kitten, you wouldn’t even believe it. Water boarded, tased, had his balls cut off, still, not talking. But just as I thought he would— ‘Don’t fuck with people who got nothin’ left to lose,’ he tells me.”

You are soft under his palm. “So, I’m like, fuck does that even mean?” Sukuna continues, bending his neck to the side to give you more room to work with. “And that’s when I just about lost it. I was hungry. It was hot and I was getting tired. We’ve been at it for five fucking hours and I had to end it somehow. What’s a guy to do, huh?”

You don’t answer, but he keeps going. “I had his bitch taken out of the car.”

The blade over his jaw halts. Sukuna grins. Open his mouth some more and that thing could kill him right now. But would it? Would you? He feels his cock, stiff as a motherfucker and balls heavy in his boxers.

“Pretty, young thing. My boys said she was tight too.” The bit of skin where his lips meet stings when you stroke over there. “And that’s when he started singing.”

His laugh rumbles off his chest, before pulling you closer. “Like a bird,” he sighs to your ear.

Don’t fuck with people who got nothing left to lose, my ass.

Your heart is a battering ram, and he feels every weak, desperate blow. There’s no longer a trace of cream to be found on his face.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Sukuna coos as he tips your chin up. “Something I said?”

As always, you do not speak, that gaze of yours gone off to someplace else. He clicks his tongue. The blade sinks down, down, down over his throat. Your hands tremble as tears come rushing down your face.

There she is, he thinks with a satisfied groan.

“Go,” he commands. “Kill me.”

He waits, watching you as his thumbs caress the swell of your tits, then mouthing your nipples over the loose cotton of your top. Your nipples harden over his sweeping tongue. He bites and takes the fabric between his teeth.

The blade nips in time, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Blood trickles to his bare chest. It blends seamlessly with the cherry blossoms and dragons tattooed on the pectorals, although old Emma-ō on his stomach looks like he gashed his eye out.

This is his favorite part. And it never gets old no matter how many times he sees it: your face falling apart, searching for a way out only to come to terms with the fact that this is it.

There’s nowhere to go. You’ve reached a dead end.

It was raining that day he first caught sight of this. On your knees before him, a blade hung over your neck— a simple, crude, mundane blade—held by a lowly servant. That was all that you amounted to. You didn’t even deserve a death dealt by any of his four arms.

And that’s all that you amount to now. You take the razor off his neck and bring it to yours.

“You’re gonna kill yourself? Some big plan you have there.” He scoffs, pushing your ass down to grind into you. “Do it, little girl.”

Your panties are pushed to the side, but nothing comes out of you. Not a single gasp or moan. Just those tears and that never ending vacuousness before you. His fingers twitch. He should just kill you right now. Get this all over with.

“Worthless cunt,” Sukuna growls, before grabbing your neck. The razor clatters off your grip. And soon enough you’re on the floor beneath him, throwing scratches and kicks that almost hit him. So, so close.

The blotched scar on your left palm peeks through his clutch.

“That’s more like it,” he barks out, laughing as he pins your wrists to the pearl tiles. Your thighs are forced apart, hanging limply over his. “Now, say it.”

“You’re a monster!”

His laughter rings sharply in his ears. “How nostalgic.”

He takes his cock out of his boxers, heavy in his hand and already leaking, before smacking the tip over your clit.

“What’re you hoping to achieve this time, hm?” It doesn’t take long before he’s aching to have your cunt gripping around him. His cock is slick enough for the both of you anyway. “Take it, you’re a good girl, you can take it, good girl, just like that, yeah.”

You whimper breathlessly, releasing that cute little whistle of a cry every time his thrusts brush the cushy, spongy lump way, way deep inside you. Sukuna feels his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he just can’t help it.

“You look so pathetic,” he jeers. Pathetic and even prettier when he gives your face a slap or two. “Were you hoping I’d take pity on you? Show remorse, that it? And what d’you think’s gonna happen after you bleed to death? I’ll tell you, it’s okay, I’ll tell you—”

He leans down, your lips almost touching, as he tells you, gently, “I’ll call for room service, have your body in a bag, give the cleaning guy a tip for his time, and then— then that would be it. That is it. You have nothing. No one would say anything, no one would cry, no one would go searching. Your story ends at a dump. Just some pussy to sell.”

Tears wet his cheeks, tracking like a stream, and his cock throbs inside you. If heaven were real, it exists right here. “Then, once that’s over, I’d get another piece of ass that won’t fuck me over the way you did.”

You’re a hyperventilating, hiccupping mess, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He pulls out, then drags you down by the leg so that your face is at the receiving end of his cock.

All it takes are some nice, firm tugs at his shaft and he’s shooting his load all over that pathetic, pretty little face. A creamy splatter over the bridge of your nose, dripping down your cheek and mingling with drying tears. Sukuna doesn’t bother wiping when he’s got you for it.

“Clean it up, baby,” he whispers.

And you do.

You suck at the tip where he’s still leaking, tongue lapping up what’s left of cum.

He then gets up to pat his face with a towel and a shaving lotion, gelling his hair back afterwards. You hobble towards the other side of the bathroom. Your lone figure, sitting naked inside the tub, is reflected and scattered into a hundred different you’s by the floor-to-ceiling mirrors caging you on all sides.

The hot water spills over the wide tub and into the floor. Sukuna sighs, before approaching you to grip the back of your head, leaving a loud kiss on your lips. You bite back, and his cock twitches again.

He forces his tongue in, keeping his eyes open. So do you.

You part with both of your spit tied loosely together, until it melts and disappears into the water.

“Please lock the door on your way out,” you croak.

After all that, any man would feel compelled enough to move mountains, so he indulges you.

The lights in the walk-in closet are bright when he dons his button-up and slacks. He sits on the chair that faces the skyline. Under his feet, the city waits, half-asleep. A whiskey later, and he still hears water rushing.

And rushing.

And rushing.

Sukuna throws the decanter into the carpet, then strides to the bathroom. But he finds, with a sneer, that he cannot get in.

“Open,” he growls as he twists the handle and bangs the door. “Don’t fuck with me, open the door.”

Like most things, it eventually breaks under his hands, and once it does, the door crashes with a thunderous clap, alerting the men posted outside.

They wait behind him, no one dares to move until he does.

It takes Sukuna a second before he’s stepping inside the bathroom. The water on the floor is bright red, spreading like ink, and the closer he gets, the darker it becomes. You are lying in the tub, hand splayed over the rim. Your fingers are slack around the straight razor. You are a cold, plucked flower in his arms. 

And the water does not stop rushing.

--

“FOR COLLUDING WITH THE SORCERERS OF THE NORTH, FOR THIS TERRIBLE ACT OF TREACHERY AGAINST LORD SUKUNA, AND FOR UPSETTING THE GODS WHO WE BESEECH TO GRANT US MERCY IN THE COMING HARVEST—”

They are no better than ants as they bustle towards the courtyard. Commoners and nobility alike jab their way to get the best view even when there are dark clouds overhead, while handmaids trail behind the highborn ladies with bright silk robes, parasols popping open one after the other. Ants and dogs, the lot of them.

The air is humid, and it brings with it a stench of iron that makes Sukuna’s mouth water. The spectacle of bloodshed has not been done in a long, long time, and anyone with a pulse clamor for it, regardless of where they stand in this insignificant, unimpressive kingdom.

Seated on the dais, he yawns and thinks, in hindsight, that he could just end this all himself. But he does not. By his side, Sukuna can feel Uraume’s shame like hail against the earth.

It was him, after all, that brought you to Sukuna as a gift.

To while away the quiet hours, he said.

A poor villager whose meagre value lies in what’s trapped inside her skull. Washed up ashore. No family. Not even a single thing to call her own.

“— IS HEREBY SENTENCED TO DEATH!”

The priest pauses. The audience catches its breath.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY LAST WORDS?”

You make no sound, head down and on your knees: the center of the attention of a hundred gluttonous eyes.

To everyone’s delight, it is Sukuna that breaks the silence.

“I want to see her,” he orders. They make you turn away from the people.

And you do not disappoint Sukuna. You never have.

The emotions of the lowest animal flutter across your face— a predictable end to be sure, but even then, your gaze does not falter.

You look at him as the priests chant a prayer. You look at him as the executioner lifts the sword. You look at him and, in that heartbeat where the blade just about grazes your nape, it seems to Sukuna like you’re witnessing this entire execution from high up above.

All twenty of his fingers itch. “Arrogant wench,” he mutters.

The sword sings at the taste of your blood as your head tumbles off into the mud.

Rain, soon enough, begins to fall like arrows on the capital.

After the crowd has dispersed, sated, Sukuna dismisses Uraume. And then he is left alone.

He steps out into the rain, stopping only to where they held you down. The rain has already washed out the blood, but right where he’s standing there are two dents on the ground the size of pebbles.

That must’ve been where you’d dug your knees.

He crouches down. The tips of his fingers sink into the hollow soil.

He feels rain drops break on his skin, tungsten and diamond, and the fire that has forged him grows bigger, deeper inside him. It feels like it’ll lay waste to his own body, but it doesn’t. Instead, it eats the whole world. The fire chews through wood, metal, and mineral, until screams and cries create a symphony just for his ears.

Yet, it only feels colder, somewhat— and the only warmth comes from where he’s got his fingers buried.

The rain does not stop. Fire reduces to ash. Water reduces to smoke.

And in his mouth, there is a child’s curse, tumbling off his lips.

How does it go again?

Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam…

“Whish, whoosh,” Sukuna drones. “Whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams.”

--

There are two things about his life that Sukuna knows to be true.

One—

He was born to rise above all men.

And, two—

This is not the first time.

He understands the factual nature of these two things because he recalls, in vivid detail, two of the times that he’s been alive. He had four arms that he still misses to this day like phantom limbs. This is what he knows the moment he gets old enough to pick pockets.

In each one of them, Sukuna remembers the sensation of power.

Raw, soaring power unlike anything that has ever existed before. In the first life, Sukuna was a sorcerer, a demon, and— more accurately, he was a god.

The second one is a bit different. Stranger, too, funny enough, than the first. He was not any of those things, but close to it, in a way. The memories come to him inside a cell after a fight. In that life, Sukuna conquered galaxies, and the stars and the suns and the moons yielded to him. Planets gave under his feet. That ancient future called him emperor, and there was not a corner of that vast universe that did not tremble at his name.

The first one has got to be his favorite, while this one… took some getting used to.

Sukuna only has two arms to begin with. The standard affair. He doesn’t have a curse to wield or a galactic army to lead. Nevertheless, it starts where it always does: at the bottom of the fucking barrel.

Little Ryomen Sukuna grew up in the dingiest alley of Kabuki-cho and had a crack whore for a mother. Power was something that he had to grab by the throat with nothing but his own two, regular hands, but— power was power.

And no matter where he was, in what lifetime, in what form, power was something that would eventually come to him.

It couldn’t be more evident tonight.

A year in the game and Sukuna’s already made a hostess out of Kamo’s first lieutenant— an ugly, garlic-breathed hostess pouring him a drink.

The old man pushes more women to his lap, to which they titter and giggle in response. Sukuna lets them hang onto him, fat cigar in his mouth, while the old man makes a jester of himself trying to get on his good side. To his credit, he does everything that might put a smile on Sukuna’s face, even going as far as to make a scene with another waitress.

Drinks shatter and the women surrounding them yelp out of the couch. Even the ashtray has turned to shards. Another gimmick and this old man’s done. Sukuna wouldn’t even mind if a war comes out of it. Maybe it’s just what he needs.

“Do you know who you’re serving, you dumb slut?” He’s slurring his words as he jabs his thumb in Sukuna’s direction. “You can’t even give us some quality fish?! What kinda dump are you runnin’, huh?! This tastes like soap!”

As the woman bows in apology, he grabs his glass to splash its contents at her— maybe he thought this would amuse Sukuna.

“We’re sorry for the food, sir,” she announces in a clipped tone, head still down and her uniform damp with sake. Sukuna couldn’t see the entirety of her face, but it’s visible enough for him to know that she’s just a waitress, if the shapeless pants and long sleeves didn’t already make it obvious. There to put food down as silently as possible, not pretty enough to be taken out. “I’ll inform our manager about this situation right now.”

“No, no, no, missy, y’cmere, look— y’don’t gotta call anyone— could get you into trouble! I’m forgiving enough, hm! We can jus settle this ourselves, w’dyou say?”

The old man grabs her by the shoulder, pushes her down to her knees, and turns her towards Sukuna. Her eyes are still trained to the floor.

“This fine, young man over here, well, you just broke his ashtray, and now his cigar’s makin’ a mess— see that? Ash every fuckin’ where!  Now—”

He snatches her left wrist as if she’s some marionette and extends it, palm open all beggar-like, to where ash falls. “—All you gotta do’s improvise! Ladies! The night’s still young! Let’s all have fun!”

The party returns, business as usual. Sukuna only watches.

He watches the women and men— each and every one a whore, drink and sing and dance until the whole room looks like it’s about to throw up.

He watches the old man bend over backwards and just about present his asshole for fucking.

And he watches her as he flicks his cigar clean.

The ashes on her palm have accumulated into a hill. She doesn’t make a noise, wouldn’t be heard in the cacophony anyway, but Sukuna sees her flinch when ember hits her skin. The women beside him aren’t subtle. They peck and lick his neck and fondle his cock to keep his cigar away from her palm, but—

He wonders, keeping his eyes on her, what would happen if—

Sukuna flicks the cigar onto her palm, then pulls it away as he peels a manicured hand off his crotch, and even with her head down she must have already guessed because before he could even stick the glowing stub to the bit of flesh he’d intended—

She catches it.

The waitress, still on her knees, rises to seize the cigar in her palm. It burns through her skin and the sizzling invades his nostrils like grease. The women beside him cry out with the waitress, but nobody stops him as he presses it down to her palm.

“S-stop- stop it…!” Sukuna hears.

She remains on her knees, a guttural scream clamped between her teeth. Her palm does not budge, and when she finally raises that stubborn head to look at him, what he sees in there is louder than what any scream, any curse could ever be.

In her eyes are the thousand different ways that she wants him dead, along with a million other lives, and a million more universes, imploding together like a great storm.

Sukuna laughs— a sharp, incredulous thing that was stolen from right under his nose.

“It’s you,” he gasps lowly. “It is you.”

---

“—I, OF THE FEW AND HUMBLE BA-A-AYLAN, CONDEMN THIS DOMITOR’S CLAWS OVER OUR MAM-A-NA GALAXIAS…!”

The assembly is in an uproar. Guards from hovering balconies land on the steps below him. Their rifles, however, remain suspended as soon as he lifts a finger, his chin resting on the opposite hand. Remnants of the fiery rocks that used to decorate the aisle are now scattered across the polished, onyx floor, crimson pocks among the swirling cosmos around your feet.

“Y-YOU WOUND OUR LANDS- RAPE...! AND PILLAGE...!”

The beaded halo perched on your head is askew— like a gale had gone through a garden. Gold and silver coins hang from your two earlobes and on the frayed ends of your vestment. They clink together like rain as you collapse on your knees. Sweat tarnishes some of the coloring painted on your face, revealing streaks of tender, quivering skin. Although the red dot on the right side is intact, the other one is being nursed behind a bleeding hand— scorched, like the rest of your face.

A courtier points at the slaver groveling on all fours a few paces behind you. “Death to the human pirate! You dare bring this- this impertinent witch before the Emperor Du-o Dech-Im Nihil! Death!”

“P-please, my lords…! Sp-spare me…! She speaks in tongues— e-exactly what one would expect from an exotic creature—”

“Silence!”

“She is a virgin, my lords! Untouched!”

“The witch has burned half its face! It is now sullied and no longer fit for He Who Brings to Heel!”

A single glance from him is all it takes to silence the rabble.

Sukuna descends the steps.

He wraps one hand around your waist and picks you up with it. Your toes dangle over the strewn rocks. A talon lifts your chin to meet his eyes.

The unburnt side of your face winces in pain, feeble arms grappling out of his hold.

Millennia have passed since he has laid eyes upon your kind. After complete subjugation, there has been nothing much more for this lot other than labor— creatures to trade with and make trade of. There may be squabbles on that side of the universe that would-be lords and conquerors can make a feast of, but it no longer interests him.

Extinction dawns with a dimmer star besides.

Very few things can occupy his mind and even stay there. Sukuna has forgotten what the last human being he’s encountered looked like. Even the pirate, with its familiar weaponry and slaver’s garments are alien to him now, but— curious, isn’t it?

It is as if he has seen you before.

Just you.

Somewhere, in one of the corners of this endless universe.

--

He could’ve done this quicker, without all the melodrama, but the people at the bar called themselves your family. Sukuna heard it with his own ears when he followed you back to the kitchen after that night.

“We know you’re on your own,” they told you as they dabbed medicine on your palm. “But you’ve got a family here.”

And so, Sukuna watches your face as these same people that had called you their little sister take the case from his accountant.

You refuse to sit on his lap, something that he’ll allow for now. On the opposite side of the car, you can clearly see the woman who runs the establishment count the bills, each piece of paper thwip-thwipping in her hands, then stacking them together into thick towers.

One million yen.

Two.

Three.

Relentlessly, you slam your injured hand against the window.

Four.

“Mama-san!”

Five.

Six.

That is all you are worth.

“Mama-san..!” you screech, jamming the door handle that does not budge.  “I’m here, mama-san! I’m right here! Please- help me! I’m right here please don’t leave me! Mama!”

It’s not until when the woman leaves with the case that you break into sobs, your head in your hands. He’s leaning against the window on his side, arm over the headrest, as he counts down, mentally, towards the inevitable.

You lunge at him.

“What do you want from me?!” you cry, face wet with tears and snot. “What the fuck do you want from me?! Who do you think you are?!”

His driver says nothing, and Sukuna only tilts his head when you grip his collar.

He wipes your cheek as he says, more to him than you, “You really don’t remember.”

--

You have resigned yourself to death. That much Sukuna knows.

You are a pet. Nothing more. That is the way of nature: you cannot even hope to outlive him, even if he willed it so. Weak, negligible little creature.

The reptile that's got a dagger to your throat is under the misconception that you are more than that. Your palanquin and guards lie on the ground. Its mask does not conceal the fact that it’s about to piss itself, its green scales distorting into a sallow shell as he approaches the wreck.

Sukuna’s army watches. The war ministers and envoys in the ships flying above him are waiting for his next move. He’s heard the whispers.

Domitor Ryomen Sukuna, He Who Brings to Heel, Noro-I no Oh, Emperor Du-o Dech-Im Nihil— has been conquered by a human slave.

How charming, he thinks with a smile.

He does not bother to address you. He knows how you look at him.

In the same breath as a white dwarf hurtles through the sky, Sukuna has ripped the hearts of both slave and assassin in his hands.

His army ululates.

“EH-NI AH DAH-YUS!” they roar.

The ships blare their horns, groaning like a deep-sea behemoth.

Sukuna decimates the Holy Seat of Desh-Ih in a matter of two rotations. It is a battle-hardened planet, and he loses a quarter of his soldiers by the end of the last siege. There is a sensation in his chest that makes him halt as he slices their general in half.

They had put up a good fight. For that, Sukuna would remember them. And— something else.

Something he cannot put a name to. It would be irritating if it were not so…peculiar.

It rains on his way back to his ship. The planet’s neighboring galaxy, Setus, is visible despite, bloodied vessels that set flames over the graveyard of severed and incinerated Desh-Ih warriors.

And in his lips is an old song— rushing like children playing tag near a stream.

Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam…

Where did he hear this? Sukuna does not remember. Perhaps from a dead, primordial planet.

Whish, whoosh, whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams…

“Pitter, patter,” he drones. “Pitter, patter, please fall back to me.”

--

Your fingers are wilted stems in his grasp, and your pulse is sluggish, off-beat.

He brings them to his lips, keeping them there, pinky brushing his chin. The metal armrests are cold against his elbows and the room smells like mint. There’s a knock that takes his focus away from you. He’ll shoot the next person that tells him he needs to rest, he decides.

But it is only the rain, hitting the window pane one at a time, then coming to a downpour. Sukuna blows air out through his nose, shutting his eyes as he takes your hand with both hands and props his forehead against them. He brushes the singed mark of your left palm.

“Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam,” he hums, not bothering with the words, the sound a low thunder from him. “Whish, whoosh, whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams.”

The rain does not stop. “Pitter, patter, pitter, patter, please fall back to me.”

He repeats the tune, whistling this time. It echoes through the hallway.

Sukuna lifts his head, the song refusing to die in his lips, and when he does, he finds you staring right back at him. The tune crashes like a ship.

Your eyes are open, and he does not recall them being this bright, like you’d just woken up from a long and hazy dream.

“Can you speak?” he drawls.

You can. He knows you can.

But you do not.

“Speak,” he repeats.

You take your fingers from his hand and brings them to his cheek, wiping it. He doesn’t let go— refuses to let go, feeling your pulse.

It peters out, slowly.

Acid perforates his muscles, spreading from the tips of his fingers to his chest, climbing up the veins and filling them with magma, burning him from the inside, until he's all spittle and heat—

“Speak—" His voices shakes the walls. "Speak, damn you!”

You keep your eyes open, as impenetrable as they’ve always been, and for a moment there, right before they close again, the corner of your mouth lifts— a smirk— like it’s you who’s sitting on this chair, and it is him that lies there on the bed, breathing his last.

--

Your laureled horse jumps atop his incense chariot. It is promptly removed from his side and kept in yours. Sukuna tempers the urge to fling the board across the mat. Uraume sits outside, waiting.

“I’m going to die soon,” he says unprovoked, legs crossed, before moving his gold general away.

You freeze, then you slide your silver general beside your foot soldier. “I see.”

“Not gonna cry?” he simpers.

“Not in front of you, my lord.”

His incense chariot lances for your silver general. Your gold general captures it.

Cherry blossoms peer through the shoji. It was you that had drawn them open earlier, as was your habit before setting the board. ‘Flushed and efflorescent,’ you’d whispered as their petals landed softly on the grass.

He raises all of his fingers. “Keep my soul here, die for a while, then—” He grins, “live forever.”

You do not move, legs folded primly beneath you, staring at Sukuna.

“You’re a monster,” you utter.

That makes him laugh. He grabs your neck. A foot soldier stumbles off your fingers, and you swiftly place it back on the board. With it, you’ve captured his gold general.

Sukuna drags the blunt end of his nail over your throat, but stops when he remembers that the game isn’t over yet. He can do that after he’s finally won over you. He lets you go wheezing lightly.

“And yet you love me.” He pounces your foot soldier with his.

Your silver general infiltrates his territory, turning it to gold. “I do.”

“You’re a fool,” he scoffs.

“I know, my lord.”

Your tears fall on the board. Sukuna looks up, but you wipe them before he could see them on your face.

 A fool. A weak, powerless, dispensable fool.

Like picking at a scab, “Why?” he asks.

“I hardly know, my lord.”

“You can be my mistress,” he says noncommittally. “I could use one more to warm my bed.”

He picks at the silver general in his midst, taking another foot soldier with him. He could force you down now. Sukuna had even thought about it in passing before. Although, with Sukuna having yet to win a single board against you, he had not seen the pleasure in it.

This is the only battle he has yet to win.

And the one that only you can.

“Then, if I do, would you cry for me, my lord? Afterwards, would you stay by my bed when I am weak?”

“You must have taken a blow to the head, fool,” he chuckles. “Proclaim me dead and lost if I’ve come to that disgrace.”

With your western region barren, he easily devours through generals, incense chariots, and a laureled horse. You meet him piece by piece, but he has, at last, cornered you at your most vulnerable. His jade general conquers your invading gold generals.

Victory is close and you say nothing more, apart from a song.

“Rush, rush, rivers oceans,” you hum like a wind chime, putting a foot soldier forward in your eastern region that he is now making a wasteland of. “Rush into a steam.”

He smirks. “A child’s curse.”

“Whish, whoosh,” you continue, nodding with a timid smile as you discard his laureled horse. “Whish, woosh, go and form daydreams.��

It is hardly a revelation to Sukuna that you hold these infantile beliefs. Brats— bunch of human waste, are wont to sing this tune, convinced that if they do, then time, like water, would return anew— different and yet the same, so that they can keep  playing without having to hear their mothers’ reprimands.

Water to steam to clouds to rain. Then back again. Over and over, making a game of time.

“Pitter, patter, pitter, patter—” That foot soldier crosses the border. You turn it over and it transforms into a gold general. No matter. One more loss and it would be your only piece. “Please fall back to me.”

He makes quick work of the last laureled horse on your side. Your jade general sits, untouched, farther behind it.

“What’s this?” Sukuna holds out a hand to brush your cheek. “Are you cursing me so that we can keep playing?”

The suggestion cannot be lost on you. Sukuna makes sure of that. He drops his fingers to the bare skin above where your robe meets together.

You nod, humming again. “Yes, my lord.”

Your gold general moves forward to his eastern region.

“But, my lord, my curse is much simpler.”

Sukuna glances back to the board.

And there it is— that gold general, once a foot soldier, with a wordless sort of aplomb, capturing his jade general—

His king.

"I only wish to see you lose," you tell him, levelling at Sukuna with your gaze. "Even for one last time.”

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 03

Kinktober Masterlist in absentia lucis - "in the absence of light" John Price x f!reader Kinks > rape, torture, sensory deprivation Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

You are a new recruit to the CIA, and Kate Laswell sends you to some remote blacksite for your interrogation training. Your temporary commander, Captain John Price, gives you a safeword, but as your training begins, you realize that you feel everything except for safe. 

Hey, did you see where the tags said RAPE? Okay, just making sure.

It was three flights and a cab. It was airport food and cold coffee. It was forgetting whether the date ended in a three or a four. It was paperwork and passports and finally a cold office. It was a long trip, and you were running on empty. 

“What are your expectations, here, Katie? I don’t wanna do another Warsaw situ–” The man complained.

“This is nothing like Warsaw. She can handle it. Trust me.” Your boss replied, her voice crackling over the video call.

The man who complained squared his jaw and fixed his eyes on you again, looking at you fresh now that your handler, Kate Laswell, had vouched for you. You tried not to fidget in your seat. You didn’t sit up any straighter. You weren’t here to advertise yourself as the bravest or the toughest of anything. You knew you still needed a lot of training, and if he wanted to draw his own conclusions about you, then that was his business, not yours. 

“Her scores are high. She beat your exam?” 

“She did. Her field test and her ‘chute certifications were performed at a DF site here in the states.”

There was a long pause before Laswell spoke again,

“Do me this favor and maybe I’ll even let you borrow her for a recon mission or two. I know none of your boys are pretty enough to pass for party girls, but mine is.”

“That she is,” you heard his tone darken, thickening in his mouth like sticky sap from a tree, borderline inappropriate. When he saw your reaction to his comment, he turned back to the screen and said, “Alright, Katie. You got a deal. I’ll send her back once she’s out of recovery.”

“Thanks, John. Don’t go easy on her, or she’ll make you pay for it.”

“Is that so?” His wry smile sent a jolt somewhere in your belly that you didn’t appreciate.

She laughed and hung up the call. You waited, trying not to let the jitters or the exhaustion win out, battling both but feeling pulled in either direction just the same. 

“So,” he turned his attention to you at last, “Did you lay in your fuckin’ pink princess bed when you were a little girl and dream about becoming a bloody spy, or is this some sort of complex I should know about?”

You shrugged, 

“A man does what he must…”

“Careful, girl. Quoting Kennedy can’t be good for your health if you’re working in Katie’s office, hm?”

“You don’t need to know why I’m here, sir.” You used his title like a knife, flashing it right in front of his eyes and watching them ignite with his smoldering, quiet fury.

“No, but I bet I’ll find out during our time together,” he promised, making your heart clench with stress and anxiety, “What’s your safeword?”

“Red.”

“Red,” he repeated it to you as if he wanted to see how it felt in his mouth. Then, after a long pause, he explained, “I will also stop before the point of emergent damage. But, I will push you past the point of pain. You will sustain injuries. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, love?”

He seemed to be under the misconception that this was your first rodeo. You knew what you had come here for, and it wasn’t some drill sergeant to yell you into shape. You had already been through Delta Force’s operator training center - the parts they allowed CIA operatives through, anyway - and you’d surpassed what Williamsburg had to offer. You were aiming to serve as a Special Skills operative, the blackest of the black ops groups, and although you lacked the physical strength to be of any use in most field positions, you had one key factor that your fellow recruits didn’t have.

Men never expected a woman to be a threat. 

Laswell had plans for you. She’d tracked down two high value targets, but they were well-guarded. However, there were usually strippers and dancers and prostitutes as far as the eye could see, always partying and coming and going at all hours of the night. You were her way in. But, it was your job to get back out. If you could survive, you’d be a hero. If you didn’t, well, she had more pawns on the board. Not to mention, you had a mission of your own to complete..

So, you worked harder than anyone. You jumped at every field training exercise, you took martial arts classes in every different format you could find, and you lived at the shooting range. You didn’t have a social life. Usually, if you were alone in a room with a man, your fists were connecting with each other’s faces. 

You looked back across the wooden desk in front of you, over his nameplate - Captain Price - and into his startlingly blue eyes,

“I understand.”

He came out of his chair like a fucking demon, lunging for you without warning. As you stumbled backward, wielding your own chair over your shoulder, you sighed inwardly. You’d at least expected a more civilized initiation, maybe even a moment for a coffee, before he started in on his training. But, alas, that was not to be. 

You crashed the wooden chair against his head, neck, and shoulder as he rounded the desk, keeping hold of the broken armrest as a weapon. You stabbed downward, aiming for his throat and not holding back. He blocked you, cracking your wrist against the rigid wood. You stepped into his space, kicking his heel out from under him and following him to the floor. His head hit the concrete with a bang, and you used that moment to pin the armrest against his throat, bearing down on him with all your weight, dislodging his trachea enough to cut his air supply. 

He flung you off of him like a ragdoll, and your back slammed into the leg of the desk. You twisted underneath it, staying just out of his reach, small enough to fit through the gap. He scrambled up on all fours, cackling at you with a gravelly, menacing laugh before leaping up and over the desk to pull you out by your ankles. 

You kicked up and over, making contact with his nose, and when he dropped your other foot, you launched your heel into his balls, making sure to aim as deeply as you could. 

He coughed, and it was your turn to laugh. 

Your victory was short-lived. He launched his body at you, shoving your back down on the desk. You felt the familiar bite of his nameplate digging into your skull, so you dragged it out and swung it at him, cutting him across his cheek. He hissed, yanking it out of your hand and tossing it to the ground. 

The captain forced himself between your legs, pressing his body down on yours, and wrapped his hand across your throat. You fought like hell to get him off, twisting his pinky until you thought it might break, but he caught your wrists in his other hand, holding them at a terrible angle, choking you until you saw rainbow spots discolor your vision. 

“Well,” he said, breathless and bleeding, “Christmas came early, dinn’it?”

Just making sure you read the tag that said this fic has RAPE IN IT. I'm just checking in again. Just want you to know. Okay, thanks.

When you woke up, you weren’t completely sure of it, at first. It was as if you were still asleep. You opened your eyes, but all you saw was an endless blackness. You couldn’t hear anything, you couldn’t smell anything, and you couldn’t move your jaw. But you could feel everything. 

Your whole body screamed in pain. One of your hands was wrenched above your head, and the weight of your body hung from your broken wrist, making you cry out in whatever muffled way you could.

Then, something was removed from your ears, and you could hear again. It was still quiet, but the sound of the aircon and the noise of another person’s breath were like blaring sirens compared to the silence you had been steeped in. 

“Look who’s awake,” John’s purr of a voice washed over you. 

You tried to reply, tried to beg for him to cut you down, but you couldn’t speak. Your mouth was holding something round and pliant. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he patted your flank, and you were suddenly aware of your nakedness. He’d taken your clothes? You could hear him scooting a metal chair across the room towards you, and his pants rustled as he sat down, “Can’t have you talkin’ your way out of this one. Based on the three stitches in my cheek, I was wrong to underestimate you, darlin’. Shoulda listened to Katie, this time. But, look at you. Just a whisper of a thing.”

His rolling chuckle made your bones itch. 

“Hard to use a safeword when you’ve got a gag on, yeah?”

You nodded, acknowledging the irony. 

Price moved in the chair again. No, he stood. You could hear his boots sliding around you in a half-circle. He kept talking to you, his tone as casual as ever,

“Yeah, thought so. But, this isn’t one of those trainings, pretty girl. You won’t be needing one. I will stop when you’re ready to stop, not when you want to stop. You need to learn that, sometimes, your body…” His hand snaked its way around your thigh and you tried to kick out at him, discovering your ankles were tied together and anchored to the floor, “... is capable of so much more than you give it credit for.”

Your heart began to slam against your chest, and your breathing became labored. You were having a panic attack. If you could only see…

“Hey,” his tone shifted, becoming the instructor again, “Breathe slowly. In. Hold it. Out. All the way. In. Out. Tha’s it. Good.” 

There was a long pause. You could smell him now. It was cigars and fire and gunpowder and smoke. It filled your senses, replacing your sight with scent. 

“I’m gonna put your ears back on, and we’ll see what you can do.” 

The world fell away again, and all you had was the smell of him. Then, he started his training. 

It wasn’t the pain that upset you, not really. Pain was something you could move past. It was the surprise. You never knew when it was coming, nor where he was going to hit you next. Sometimes it was his fist. Sometimes it was a belt. Sometimes it was an electric shock. Legs, ribs, foot, arm, neck, belly… there was no pattern. 

You also had no idea of the passage of time. You were infinite and you existed in the darkness of infinity. It was just pain forever with no reprieve. 

Until it wasn’t.

The first time you felt his fingers pinching the tender peaks of your breasts, your whole body jolted. You hadn’t really responded to the pain in the same way, but to pleasure? It was unexpected in a different way. You didn’t think he would violate you. That wasn’t even something they’d tried to do when you were with the DF. 

You bucked, hoping that your displeasure was noted for the record. 

But, perhaps, your mind teased you, the lady doth protest too much? You had wanted him to touch you when he’d picked you up from the airport. When he shook your hand, hadn’t you measured his fingers and started wanting? Weren’t you eager for training to be over so you could be invited back to his flat for the after-work romp you knew would be on offer?

Hanging there like a slab of meat had changed things a bit, but it had not quelled your desire, unfortunately.

You wondered if he had reacted. You imagined him laughing at you. Was he enjoying himself? Or was this all apart of his brand of training? 

I bet you choke out all the pretty girls… you sneered inwardly. 

More pain. This time, your ass cheeks were the targets. The snapping bite of what felt like a belt hit you repeatedly and without mercy. You found yourself breathless from silently screaming, your tongue pressing against the gag for some sort of relief and finding none. 

Then, pleasure again. His thick fingers fondled your pussy from behind, digging into your flesh and discovering the wetness hidden inside of your unused hole. There was no romance to his movements, but forcing an orgasm from you did seem to be his goal. And fuck, you lamented, he was good at it. 

He doubled up, twisting two fingers deep inside of you, pounding them into your body all the way to the knuckle, fast and hard, dragging you towards the edge. Your legs began to tremble, and you knew your face must’ve looked a mess, because you were in total shock. 

It felt like he was going to vibrate you right out of your skin, and still he moved faster. He wrapped his other hand around your belly, holding you in place, and you thrashed against it, fighting the mounting urge to come. 

You were doing pretty well, you thought, given the conditions. Until…

His soft lips pressed themselves down onto your spine. It was just a chaste kiss, but it unfurled you like a ripcord. You exploded, your whole body convulsing in bliss, and although you were wearing a blindfold, you could see white streaks and stars dancing across your vision. You came alive. 

Price pulled out of you, and you felt the stream of slick drip down your legs. He’d forced you to squirt, something you thought was completely faked, only for pornos. But, there it was, proof of its reality smearing down your thighs and onto the concrete floor. 

Pain, again. 

The searing sting of a taser in the sensitive flesh of your belly. 

Fists and harsh palms. 

The bite of a chain. 

A sharp ache from a needle or a knife. 

His fist closing around your index finger and snapping it cleanly in two. 

You wanted to puke, but there was nothing to come up. Your belly bulged and hollowed, letting you gag and choke around nothing, going through the motions and yet giving you nothing to move. 

Then, pleasure. 

His hands were back on your pussy, finding your clit and teasing you until you jerked forward. But, his hand remained, insisting. And insisting. And insisting. 

You lost track of how many times you’d toppled over the edge of your orgasm. There were no borders, not anymore. Your pleasure was bleeding and smearing all around you in one great wave, blinding you to the starts and stops from coming and not. You were drowning in it. 

Just when you thought you might pass out, you felt the prod of his prick between your legs, entering you from behind. You couldn’t feel a condom. You tried to twist yourself away, rocking your hips to no avail. 

This was definitely not protocol.

Those lips returned to the same spot on your spine, and you melted onto him, covering him like hot wax, sealing your body onto his cock like a brass signet, letting him leave his mark on you. 

His hands found your breasts, squeezing them roughly, holding your body to him in a vicious embrace. 

Then, he dug around inside of your mouth and yanked out the gag. You felt yourself make a terrible noise, but you couldn’t hear the sound that came out. You knew he could, though, because when he heard you, his cock throbbed at your entrance, and it made him push forward, dipping into you even deeper. 

Wait… Captain Price. Please. Wait. Wait. 

You wondered if you were as loud as you tried to be. In fact, you wondered if he could hear you at all because he did not stop. If anything, he went onward with even more fervor. 

His mouth kissed its way across your back, and you could feel his stubble and the coarse hairs of his beard raking their way along your skin. His warm tongue leaving little wet stamps as it laved across you, tasting your sweat. 

The way his fat prick was stretching you out made you question if he was using himself or the armrest of the chair that you had tried to kill him with. You hissed from the ache, but he didn’t halt his advance. Didn’t retreat. He just pressed further inside of you. 

How much cock did this jerk have?

Finally, you felt his hairy base tickle the skin under your ass cheeks, and you knew there was an end to his incredible length. 

What… why are you doing this? Why…

He pulled himself out in the same way he had pressed in, slowly and with a fierce persistence. 

Then, he began to pound himself into you.

You were at the perfect height for him, and it made you sick to your stomach to know that it was deliberate. This had been his plan all along. And although most of you felt completely indignant, there was a nasty little demon in your heart that celebrated in it. He’d wanted you from the start, even after you’d made him bleed, maybe even because of it. 

And that thought brought you no small amount of joy. 

His hands had returned to your breasts, playing with them too roughly. John was pinching your nipples and craning his neck around to suckle from them, nipping at them with his teeth until you screamed from the pain of being bitten. Even then, your screams were a poor deterrent. It didn’t stop him from returning to them, crushing the stiff tips as he worked his cock inside of you, fucking himself up into you at a punishing pace. 

He only pulled away to stick his tongue inside of your armpit, licking you over and over in a place where no one had ever even thought to lick, and you wished you could say, honestly, that it had disgusted you. But, it didn’t. If anything, it made you gasp with a new brand of pleasure. He had awakened something fresh and bright in you that you never meant to discover. 

Then, he got brave. He shoved two fingers right into your slack mouth, and you immediately bit down, hard. You could taste blood, and you fought against his flesh, trying to crack the bone. But, he shoved them down your throat, and all you had to chew on was a fat fist that wouldn’t even allow your jaw to close much less to bite. 

You could feel his fingers in your throat, deep down in a place where fingers were never supposed to go, and all you could do was swallow around them, trying your best to keep from drooling into your airway. 

His cheek pressed into your shoulder blade. He was enjoying you. 

The way his gentle kiss or the softness of his cheek ripped orgasms from you was concerning, to say the least. You hoped you could remember this moment, of how the way he rested himself against you as he was taking you against your vocal will was throwing your body down a deep well of dark, forbidden pleasure. How your vision burned white and gold and formed spots of colors that had no names as he fucked you into a different plane of existence. How you thought, if you got a late night text, written in his smoky, raspy Scouse accent, you would crawl your way back across the pond just so he could give it to you again. 

Oh, my God… You screamed from the pit of your belly. 

His thrusts never slowed. He was like a machine. All those muscles were being put to work, and you were the mission. 

Had it been hours?

Days?

Did the world still exist outside of this concrete cube that you suspected you were in?

Would you starve to death in here?

The demon that apparently lived in your cunt rolled its eyes and said, who cares? I wanna come again and again and again…

And you did. You were so overstimulated that you thought even someone looking at you the right way would make you come. It had become painful, at one point, and now you were not numb… Numb wasn’t the right word. You were soft. Your mind and your pussy were just murky, oily, cock-filled vessels, happy they were full and unwilling to question what it meant. 

When he finally pulled out of you, you were limp. You didn’t thrash or fight. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. 

You felt his fingers again, drawing out your foaming, frothy come into his hand. He used it to smear it along the rim of your asshole. Then, he began to fuck your tight hole with his fingers, one. Over and over. One. One. One. Then, he added a second. Two. Two. A thousand times, two. Three was a bit of a challenge, but he pushed through. Three. Two. Three. Two. Three. Three. Three. And then, none. 

None. 

None. 

Where did he go?

Pain. A heavy hand slapping across your bruised tits. Again. Again. 

You were screaming, surely. You wanted to be, at least. 

The flat of his palm beat itself against your breast over and over without mercy. 

Then, his cockhead rested at the entrance of your asshole. 

You didn’t beg this time. If anything, he should be the one begging, you thought. If you lived, you were going to make him remember you. 

Price shoved himself inside of you with some force, but you took it. You waited until he was fully sheathed inside, and when he took a breath, when those lips rested themselves on the back of your neck, you beared down on him, hard. 

You felt his breath catch as it skittered across your skin. 

The demon in you chuckled in triumph. 

C’mon, Captain. Is that all you got? You made the words come out of your throat, and you hoped he could hear you. 

The way that his hand fisted itself in your hair told you that he had. 

If you thought he had fucked your pussy like an animal, you had been mistaken. He took your ass like he owned it. Like it was his toy. There was no pleasure-seeking rhythm, no careful pacing or grinding movements. He was fucking you because he wanted to come. So, you made him. 

Every time he dragged himself out, you let him go, but every time he pressed himself in, you fought him the whole way. Squeezing and pushing, squeezing and pushing, making your tight hole even tighter, rocking your hips to drive him mad with want. 

You felt him lose control, his hot spend filling your ass and bursting out of his swollen head, soaking your hole. You pulsed around him, and you felt that soft cheek return to your shoulder. 

Come for me, baby. Good boy. You giggled out loud. 

He slapped you across the mouth, and you laughed harder, feeling his cock slip out of you, spent. 

You can’t hurt me in a way that matters, John Price. Do your fuckin’ worst.

You felt him step around you, smelling his breath as he held you face to face. Then, the noise of the room came back and you could hear him panting, ragged and desperate. You felt the blindfold fall away and you could see him, your eyes shrinking in the dim light of the cell, hurt by even the smallest glow of light. 

You were back, but you were not yourself. Not anymore. You were a different you. Someone he had made. He had crafted you with his own hands. 

“Why? Why didn’t you beg me to stop?”

His eyes were burning into yours as he stared down at you, questioning what he had done, what you had done with him. You had used him like a sharpener, honing yourself to a high shine, and he didn’t understand. 

When you heard your voice for the first time, you mourned it a bit, but you knew it would come back eventually. It was raspy, muddled, and barely audible, but you said it with your whole chest,

“I was made for this, and I could go all fuckin’ day.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long did he keep you prisoner?”

Kate Laswell, you fucking bitch. 

He’d read your file. The real one. Not the one on your tagline, but the one that you and Laswell had hidden away. 

“Five months,” you told him, a sick smile on your face, “But, you already knew that.”  

He sighed, his hands on his hips, just as naked as you, which you found a little funny. 

“Why’d you come here? Why would she…” 

You watched him wrestle with the betrayal in his head, knowing he’d been manipulated. He’d walked right into her trap. You basked in his confusion, having almost as much fun as you’d had while he was railing you into oblivion. 

“Laswell said you needed a way into the Ikon, some strip club on the border between Russia and Urzikstan. So, I said I would help.”

“And she knew I’d say no…”

“Unless you knew I could handle it.”

It was his turn to be in pain. You could see the fire of it creeping through his belly, knowing he’d just tortured a girl who’d written the book in torture. The surgeries and the psych consults were long, long behind you, but your run in with the Russian mob was not something you were ever going to forget. But, now, John Price was going to give you a chance at revenge. You were his gun, and you just needed him to point you in the right direction. 

Suddenly, he cut you down, freeing you from your hanging place. You crumpled into his arms, letting him hold you as you collapsed. You used your hands to pet the worry out of his eyes, and he fought you for it, trying to stop you from comforting him. So, you grabbed him with what little strength you could muster, and you pulled his face to yours, pressing your mouths together, making him taste your blood from where he had cut your cheek against your teeth. He yanked his head back, furrowing his brow,

“No, stop…”

“Shut up,” you said, kissing him again and feeling his surrender as he held you tighter, pulling you into his chest even though he was ridden with guilt. 

“We shouldn’t, love. I’m so sor–”

“Where’d you put that gag?” You pretended to look around for it, earning a slight smile and an exasperated huff.

You knew you’d made the cut, because when he fucked you this time, he didn’t hold back.

Whelp. Kinktober!

[thewinchestah]

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it. 

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form. 

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion. 

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old. 

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance. 

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

  Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory. 

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made.  A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you. 

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?” 

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done. 

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred. 

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least. 

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was  made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized. 

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far. 

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination. 

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table.  Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the  least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many. 

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized  you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret  made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power  lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every  overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you. 

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information. 

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia. 

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move. 

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work. 

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless. 

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now? 

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power. 

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm. 

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality. 

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely. 

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes. 

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care? 

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

 Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter. 

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face. 

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret. 

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip. 

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face. 

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest 

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects 

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something  big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it” 

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist. 

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved” 

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed.  Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands. 

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen. 

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building. 

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out. 

Mutual destruction assured. 

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?” 

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words. 

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve. 

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out. 

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

 when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too. 

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love. 

And now he is here. 

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you. 

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises. 

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you.  You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble. 

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory. 

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter. 

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

 You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst  of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks. 

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now. 

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved. 

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do” 

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.  

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words. 

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover. 

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

 The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld. 

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

 “Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt. 

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.”  his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him. 

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.  

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side. 

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you,  inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming. 

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice. 

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand. 

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness. 

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials. 

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through. 

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage. 

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it. 

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make” 

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist 

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him” 

a wrong type of static pricks your lips 

“This won’t hurt” 

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper 

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it. 

 Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain. 

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison. 

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal. 

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing. 

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him. 

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought. 

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him. 

And then he stops. 

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret” 

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast? 

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.” 

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance,  playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word. 

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him. 

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you. 

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you. 

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears. 

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

 But their machinations are all meaningless. 

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

[rotten-pomegranate]

Can you write headcanons of Chrollo taking one of the Kurta prisoner and keeping her as his pleasure pet cause he gets turned on by her eyes.

Chrollo keeping kurta reader as a sex slave

YES OMG THANK YOU I LOVE THIS WTF

this is very dark

Warnings: rape, abuse, threats, threats of torture, genocide, death(the Kurtas), degradation, reader is terrified of Chrollo and he uses that against her, bad spelling

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

He’s so cruel, he threatens you all the time, “come ride me or I’ll take those pretty eyes of your dearest”

He doesn’t give you the most basic human rights, oh you wanna use the bathroom, well then you better get on your knees and show him you deserve using the same bathroom as him

Your sleep schedule is nonexistent, he gets home at 4:00am horny, come look at these eyes that could very well be your friends and then show him pretty eyes of your own while you suck him off

He hits you all the time, he thinks the pretty purple spots go well with your crimson orbs, especially when they are filled with tears

If you ever get the courage to go against him he’s gonna call in Feitan to put you back in your place

He Constantly tells you all the gory details of his job just to see your pretty eyes well in tears

When he’s fucking you he holds your hair or throat to further remind you he has power over you, even when your on top your not in control and he makes sure you know that

If he’s feeling especially sadistic he’ll have you sleep on the floor next to his bed and will make a point to step on you when he gets out of his nice big cozy bed

But some days he just wants to spoil you, not let you be in control but give you pleasure, he will have to terrorize you a bit to see your eyes but other then that it’s good you like and constant orgasms

If you ever try escaping he will use his nen to make you think he took your eyes away even though he would never do that

He makes sure to keep a friend or family member of yours eyes on stand by just in case he needs to scare you into submission

Hes gonna beat the fuck out of you if you try to hurt your eyes, and when he’s done he’s gonna chain you to the wall and just use you like a fleshlight for days, you will get just enough water to survive because food is a privilege and you don’t have it, your also gonna have to piss on yourself if you wanna piss at all during this time

It’s a horrible way to live and it will be a horrible way to die because your never getting away from him

©rotten-pomegranate- All rights reserved, don’t steal, translate, copy, plagiarize, claim my work as your own or post it on other platforms.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Gotta love waking up to Vivzie saying enjoying a rapist character is totally fine and definitely has no effect on real life. Yeah no man if you want to be super into a rapist character whose only personality is being a rapist go ahead man, really. Im sure that wont fuck you up mentally in the future or potentially ruin your ability to discern right and wrong when it comes to other forms of media or real life. Who gives a fuck if a character gets raped on screen!! They’re a funny cartoon character!

I hate this lady with my entire being. The comment on the top is absolutely rancid. “it's funny how that argument is always ignored when people express how things like Hazbin make them feel seen or effect their real world experience positively.” Hey Viv, your creation and watching a character get raped on screen actually impacted he horribly and very negatively but hey, I guess I’m just being sensitive right? I guess everyone else who has felt mistreated, offended, and fetishized by your show is just a party pooper. That sucks huh.

“Maybe let people enjoy things, even if you don't.” Yeah I’d fucking hope I don’t enjoy rape. Y’know Vivzie has done such insane damage to the indie animation community and also just the online space in general and she’s never going to recognise that. I could be Viv’s best friend and tell her that her show made me feel disgusting about myself and feel like nothing more than a stereotype and she would fucking cut me off. I know this because this has literally already happened. Fuck Vivziepop.

I genuinely don’t think I’m going to talk about any current Helluva Boss or Hazbin shit because of how horrendously this fucking media affects my brain. If I post it’s about design or pre-existing plot. Till Hazbin season 2 comes out and I can pirate that shit I’m not dealing with this shit anymore. Sorry Vivzie but I don’t actually like seeing the twink bird abuser live in his victims house. I don’t feel bad for him at all. Helluva boss was originally kind of funny here and there but the episodes now are genuine fucking brain rot. I cannot bring myself to put into words how dogshit they are now.

Anyway, hope Vivzie fuckin gets therapy or gets her show cancelled. Not to be one of those crazy people that’re like “YOU SHOULD DIE I HATE YOU!!!” Cause frankly I don’t give a fuck what she does as long as it ain’t anything to do with me, but if she like died in an explosion I would not give a shit. Anyway. I have work to do. Have a hateful day and then chill out later. As much as I enjoy criticising, being negative constantly isn’t healthy. If you’re in a hating spiral, give yourself the rest of the day to get it out and do something you actually enjoy. Check my stuff out on my main blog @skreebs if you wanna see some of my Inanimate Insanity stuff. Love that show🩷

[cassidyandonlycassidy]

no one man should have all that power

miguel o'hara x reader

words: 2k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut, NONCON!, RAPE!, size difference (canon, miguel just big as hell), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dark!miguel, p in v sex, threats, mentions of anal, cleaning lady!reader, attempted rape by not miguel/attempted mugging

your focus is half on your phone playing the local news through your headphones, and half on scrubbing down the sink in front of you. 

you don't move on until it's spotless. perfectly clean. you're willing to use every tool in your arsenal considering this is your pickiest client.

you are about to spray down the shower and allow the chemicals to soak and do part of the work for you, when the news anchor shifts the conversation.

“and to discuss the issue of spiderman, please welcome nypd captain charleston and queens resident andrea roberts.”

your attention shifts fully to your phone. andrea begins, a sweet looking older lady who explains that spiderman saved her from being mugged. you feel your heart beat faster when they flash images of him on screen, his wide shoulders, dark black and red suit hugging his body and abs.

“and what happens when spiderman begins to ask for something in return? he saves you from being mugged, but then demands a payment. what happens when he starts to use his powers for evil instead of good? we must focus on unmasking him and stopping his crusade of the city. no one man should have all that power.”

you have to reach quickly to shut your phone off, powering down the screen and turning off the captains words as your client enters the bathroom.

“almost done?” she asks, a frown on her overfilled lips, shining with a lipgloss to distract from the fact that her skin is almost painfully stretched.

“yes ma’am.” you nod. “just the shower is left.”

“hmm…” you wait for her to find a critique, even the tiniest speck of dust that you missed, but she's unable to as she sighs dramatically. “i have a party to get to. see yourself out, the door will lock behind you.”

“and payment?” you hate having to ask just from the way her eyes turn dark, clearly annoyed with your questions, and while she may be one of your worst clients, she's also one of your best paying. 

“on the kitchen counter.” she says before turning on her bright red heels and stomping away.

you sigh and turn your phone back on, frowning when you realize the spiderman coverage is already over before turning your attention to the shower.

--

you're whistling to yourself as you head home, needing the music to keep you from deciding to just pass out on the nearest bench, and you don't dare put your headphones in after the sun has set.

a full day of cleaning apartments from the elite of the city, and now you have to head back to your tiny one.

you clutch your tote bag further into your side, knowing there's cash from the few clients who refuse to prepay with a credit card until they see the work you've done, despite never leaving a client unsatisfied.

“hey pretty lady.” you're used to the cat calls, so you just keep walking past the man, not acknowledging him even when you hear him push off the wall and follow you, footsteps heavy and far too close for your liking.

“i said hey!” he shouts, voice turning aggressive. you look around, but there's no one else on the empty street but a few distant cars. “bitch, you gonna be nice and say hello back?”

the man grips your shoulder and forces your feet to stop. your eyes widen as you come face to face with him, his eyes furious and breath smelling of alcohol.

“hello.” you whisper out, hoping that's all it will take for him to leave you alone, but of course it's not as he shoves you into the dark alley between two apartment buildings.

“since you wanna be a bitch, you can get on your knees and suck my dick.” he's too strong as he shoves you down onto your knees, roughly hitting the pavement as you cry out, hoping someone hears you.

“and you can give me all your money too, whore.”

“now that's not a way to talk to a woman.” 

the voice makes both of you jump as you turn to see spiderman emerge out of the shadows, even taller than you pictured him.

the drunk man scatters before spiderman can get any closer.

“th-thank you, spiderman.” you know you must sound pathetic right now, voice breathy and still on your knees as he steps closer.

when his hand reaches down, you don't hesitate to place your hand in his and allow him to pull you to your feet.

“are you alright?” his voice is soft and smooth like butter and it makes you swoon even more.

“thanks to you.” you know you're blushing as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, one hand still clasped in his.

“and what about thanks?” spiderman leans down. “would you give me a kiss to thank me?”

“i-yes.” you don't think about what it means as the area around his mouth and chin disintegrates, showing off his strong jaw and plump lips.

despite him being almost bent over, you still have to raise yourself onto your tiptoes to press your lips against his.

the kiss that you meant to be soft and sweet is quickly intensified as he pulls you up, arms wrapping around you to hold you effortlessly in the air as his mouth devours yours.

“wait!” you pull away, eyes widening when you realize that at some point the rest of the disguise covering his face has also been pulled away.

he's even more handsome than you could have imagined. perfect cheekbones leading to a strong nose, his eyes big and brown, showing all the intensity behind them.

“what?” he huffs out, annoyed that the kiss ended so soon.

“i-i don't even know your name.” you admit shyly. while you're alright with giving spiderman a soft kiss as a thank you, you're not sure how you feel about the hot and heavy make out session.

“im spiderman, isn't that enough?” he frowns at you, wishing you would just shut up so he can do as he pleases.

“i-”

spiderman leans back in, attacking your lips with his. you don't know what to do, your feet are so far off the ground, and his arms are holding you so tight to his defined chest.

you relax and just allow it to happen, allow his mouth to press kiss after kiss against yours.

you let out a gasp when spidermans hand grips your chest, shifting your weight to one arm around your waist.

the open mouth allows his tongue to push inside, dominating the kiss in a whole new way as his palm rubs against your boobs.

“i-” you try to pull away, but to no avail as he's not willing to let you out of the kiss. 

spiderman moves until your back is pressed against the brick wall, his other hand dropping to your ass, holding you up that way instead.

his hand is so big, fingers stretching so far that he only has to press a bit more between your thighs to be against your pussy.

“how else are you gonna thank me, pretty?” he asks, finally letting you take a deep breath, his hand still squeezing your tits over your shirt.

“i don't want to do this anymore!” you squeal out now that you're able to talk.

“what?” his voice turns dark. “i saved you and you don't want to thank me?”

“i just want to go home!” you plead. you know there's no point in screaming or trying to run.

“not until you give me a proper thank you.” he growls out. “but since im feeling nice tonight, ill let you choose. should i fuck you or settle just for you sucking me off?”

“you can't do this!” you try to wiggle out of his hold, but he's too strong. 

“i can. who is gonna stop me?” the chuckle that escapes his mouth sounds like pure evil.

“i know what you look like! ill tell everyone. ill go to the news, to the police-”

“you think they'll believe you? im spiderman. i rule this city.” he shakes his head like he's disappointed in you for even mentioning it.

“but-” he continues on. “since you've taken so long to answer, ill just have to fuck you.”

you manage to get out one yell, one shout, one plead for no before spidermans mouth is back on yours.

his hand does move to cup your pussy, thick fingers sliding against your core. you feel your pussy wetten from the movements, traitorous and betraying your true intentions.

you whimper against his lips as your pants are ripped away along with your underwear, literally tearing them easily off your body.

he must have disintegrated or called back part of his suit, you have no idea how the technology works, and you certainly have no interest in figuring it out now as you feel his cock slide through your folds.

spiderman has to pull away to slide you lower, your back moving down the brick wall as his strong hands guide your hips until his cock is against your entrance, poking in.

“you're- you're too big.” you try again to plead with him. “you'll tear me in half.”

he just shrugs, a smirk even twitching at the corner of his lips as he pushes you down, hips rising up to sink you down onto his cock.

you cry out, head falling back as he continues to move, feeling like it's never ending as he continues to split your insides to make room for him.

“shit!” spiderman shouts out. “you're so tight.”

you want to say it's because you're not turned on, that you don't truly want this, but you don't want to anger him even more as his hips begin to thrust up into you.

you cry out, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. it's not as painful after a minute, your pussy adjusting to his length and girth as he fucks you without abandon.

spiderman steps away from the wall and switches so his back is pressed against it as he begins to move you up and down, using you as he would a toy to pleasure himself, but instead of thrusting into plastic, he's pushing repeatedly into your cunt.

you lean forward, hands balancing against his defined chest, needing the stability as your body is forced into taking his cock.

“please!” you cry out.

“quit crying or it'll get worse.” you're not sure how it could get worse until the hand on his hip moves, moving between your ass cheeks and pressing a finger against your other hole.

“im sorry.” you quickly say, looking up in fear that just spews spiderman faster, pumping you up and down without even breaking a sweat.

“so warm and wet.” he smiles down. “are you sure you don't want this?”

you stay silent, hoping the experience ends soon as you feel his cock swelling inside of you, pushing against your walls.

“you gonna cum with me?” he asks, other hand reaching to swirl around your clit. you wish his rough fingertip didn't feel so good against your sensitive bud.

“i don't want to.” you whimper out, entire body slumping forward as you struggle to remain in control, feeling your hips begin to shake and the way your cunt clenches around his length.

“you're gonna. come on.” the bouncing, the movement of your body up and down and the way you're practically speared onto his cock is all too much as you let out a squeal, cumming hard just as spiderman does as well, shooting his seed inside of you, feeling like it's right into your womb from how deep it is.

“oh, fuck.” he moans out. “now that was a good thank you.”

he pulls you off his cock and places you back onto the ground where your legs instantly crumple, landing in a heap against the concrete.

“don't forget your bag.” spiderman kicks your tote bag that had fallen off your shoulder towards you, spewing the cash all over the ground.

you look up at him, fear no longer in your eyes, replaced with anger and disgust. you know nothing will happen to him, but from this moment on, taking down spiderman will be your only goal.

no one man should have all that power.

[hiskillingjar]

pretty rave girl

Relationship: Ren Hana/MC Rating: Explicit Includes: Dubious Consent, Coerced Consent, Date Rape, Drugging, Intoxication, Hypnotism (sort of), Anime Conventions Length: 6200+ words

an rehash and extension of my hypnotism kinktober fic, very kindly requested by @frawgsie! thank you so much for your support <3

if you'd like a commission of your own, feel free to check out my post and shoot me a message!

Part One

"Can I get a Monster, please?"

"Original, Ultra White, or-"

"Pipeline Punch, obviously!” You said with an exaggerated ‘ugh!’, flicking the plastic fibres of your wig out of your eyes, heavily made up and caked in pink glitter. “Is there any other?"

The girl behind the bar rolled her eyes, probably wishing she was also partying in the ball room instead of serving you. She turned away, fetching a tall pink can from the set of fridges behind her, readily stocked for the messy nerds the hotel was reluctantly hosting over the convention weekend.

"You're such a bitch." 

Ren giggled, a little tipsy in his own right, as he pressed to your side, lolling and lazing against your shoulder. His chest hit your sweaty back, skin sticking to the thin material of his shirt, and his tail swayed cool air against your thighs as it wagged. 

"She was just asking you a question. No need to bite her head off."

"Come on, it's a dumb question!” You said, eyes flitting towards him as the girl cracked open the can and slid it towards you (lest you try and sneak anything closed into the ballroom). “How can you look at me,” You gestured downwards at the tacky Chibi Moon cosplay you were wearing, thigh highs, a short skirt and a bikini sporting a comically large bow between the cups. “And think I'll ask for anything but Pipeline Punch?"

"You have no taste.” He continued to giggle, snaking his arms around your waist and nuzzling into the fibres of your pink pigtails.“Ultra White is peak."

"Maybe if you have an eating disorder," You rolled your eyes, paying the exorbitant five dollars for the can with a tap of your phone. "Something you wanna tell me, Ren?~"

“Shut up,” He rebuked with an irked huff, a small growl escaping his throat as he squeezed you around the waist, pressing you flush against the line of his slender body and nipping at your pierced earlobe, a quasi-punishment for being ‘such a bitch’. “And drink your Monster, before you piss me off.”

"Mm, not so close,” You complained with a lip-gloss lacquered pout, taking a long initial sip from the can and smacking your lips. “It's so hot in there. I swear, I can feel sweat dripping down my crack-"

“Well, let’s stop wasting time already,” He cut you off with an exaggerated sigh, taking your free hand and dragging you towards the double doors of the hotel ballroom. “I don’t wanna miss anything good!”

"Okay, okay!" You laughed in spite of yourself, taking another swig from your can, the fruity chemicals bubbling over your tongue and satisfying your thirst, before you thrust it towards him. "Can you hold this for a second? I need to adjust my bra."

"Oh, so you're calling those two triangles a bra now?" He said with a good-natured eye roll, as you turned around and adjusted the strings of your bikini top, tightening them slightly and breathing in as they cut into the soft flesh of your chest, pushing your breasts together (and making them look fucking awesome, thank you very much). “You’re so high maintenance, I swear.”

"Now who's the bitch!" You said with an exaggerated gasp before grinning, leaning in to kiss his cheek (leaving behind a pink lip gloss print) and take your can back. "Thank youuuu~"

"Pff," He rolled his eyes again, though he couldn’t hold back a dumb smile, his hand reaching for yours once more as he pulled you back inside the crowded ballroom, the pounding music instantly loud and throbbing through every inch of your body as soon as you stepped inside, like you could feel it in your bones. "You're such a tease, y'know that?"

"I don't think you can call me a tease when you're gonna get laid at the end of the night." You commented with a cattish smirk, following behind him obediently.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, you slut~" Ren said with a mischievous smirk, his ears tilting forward with a shake of his head.

He led you through the sea of dancing people and closer towards the front of the ballroom, where a DJ (donned with a neon green furry wolf head that you guessed was probably drenched in sweat) was spinning the tracks for the night, all while a matching set of monitors were projecting visuals for the set; sped-up anime openings, well-cropped hentai and constant, flashing lights.

It made the rave's energy feel much more manic, and you loved it.

You were grinning like an idiot by the time the two of you got to the front, squeezed tight between the other dancers (some couples, some groups, some going solo), soaking up the atmosphere like a sponge, and your body was already moving in time with the music, your hips swaying, your chest bouncing and your shoulders bobbing up and down.

Ren turned to look at you, his amber eyes lecherously raking over your body from top to bottom, admiring the cheap cosplay that barely covered you, a clear lust behind his gaze. 

Not like you minded. You knew you were hot, and his validation just made you feel hotter.

"God, you look good tonight," He said loudly over the music, matching your dance moves the best he could (without a bouncing chest).

You somehow smiled even more and stroked down the length of your pigtails, before tossing them over your shoulder, your eyes half-lidded and a seductive pout on your lips.

"How good do I look, hm?" You crooned, pressing closer to him so he could hear you.

"Good enough for me to want to fuck you on the dance floor." He admitted with a brazen, fanged grin, closing the space between the two of you, his hot body pressed against yours, making it all too easy for him to roll his hips against your own, in time with the pounding bassline.

You could feel how hard he was through his jeans. 

Already. You had barely done a thing and you were already driving him crazy.

He was so fucking easy.

"You're such a nerd," You laughed, but you didn't stop yourself from pressing against him too, the back of your skirt riding up high as he slotted his groin against your backside, his hands bracketing your full hips and holding on tightly. "Seriously? I just gotta dress like an anime girl to get you going?"

"What can I say?" He hummed airily, his hands wandering up and down your thighs and groping your ass through the thin fabric of the cosplay. “I’m very weak against a very specific type of girl. It’s not my fault you fit it perfectly.”

You bit your lip to hide another big, dumb smile, feeling his hand slide higher up your skirt and toy with the elastic hem of your bicycle shorts (you had to retain some modesty, after all), like he was threatening to pull them down, and really fuck you, right there on the dancefloor, in front of everyone.

The very idea of that made you feel lightheaded.

Or was it something else? 

"Fuck, it's so hot in here," You breathed out and stood up straight after the song finished, feeling a bead of sweat run down your inner thighs and make the spandex shorts start to chafe painfully against your skin. You sighed and took another swig of Monster, before pushing your wrist against your forehead, wiping up more sweat with a grimace. “I think I might actually have to go outside, it’s a little too much.”

Instead of pulling you out of the ballroom to get some air (which you wouldn’t have expected from him anyway), Ren reached around and grabbed your wrist, tight, before guiding your hand upwards, the cool metal of the Monster can pressed back against your gasping lips. 

"You don’t need to do that. Just finish your drink, baby," He ordered softly (in a tone you knew you couldn’t argue with), hooking his chin over your shoulder and tracing his soft lips over your ear, whispering sweet words under the pounding music. "It'll help you cool down, won’t it?"

"Mmf-!" 

You spluttered in muffled (if slightly coerced) agreement as the drink hit your lips again and filled your mouth, the overwhelming sweetness making your brain pound (an after-effect of the caffeine and nothing else, surely, you had barely drank anything that night), more than the music had, more than the flashing lights and swirling colours had.

Sticky pink fluid ran down your chin as he poured more down your throat, too fast for you to swallow, and trickled over your chest, soaking into the costume.

When you glanced down (as much as you could, as much as he let you), you saw your nipples (gradually hardening to firm little buds) slowly becoming visible under the wet fabric, dusky pink beneath the soaked, white polyester, and it made something inside you throb painfully.

"Oh, look at you," Ren tutted condescendingly as he looked down at your body, keening forward so his tongue could run over the side of your chin to collect the droplets of sticky Monster. His eyes were smouldering as his free hand then pulled your hips against his once more, pushing your skirt up completely. "Such a mess. You just always need me to take care of you, don’t you?"

Hhhhh…" 

You breathed out unsteadily through your nose, heavy eyes blinking slowly (dumbly), as he poured another mouthful of energy drink down your throat, your head spinning even more. 

The crowd of bodies around you were packed in so tight, the small ballroom hot and humid (stinking of weeaboo sweat and fruity-scented vape smoke), and filled to the brim with the manic energy of a thousand nerds on their first night out, hopped up on Monster Energy and vodka, listening to nightcore remixes of their favourite anime. 

It was an infectious energy that made your heavy head pound even more.

And you didn't know if it was the caffeine and the sugar from the drink, or if it was the pounding music and flashing lights, or if it was something else entirely making you feel so...strange all of a sudden, but you knew you liked it, whatever it was.

"Oh, fuck," 

You breathed out as a new song started playing, speakers practically throbbing with droning sirens, drawled vocals and pounding bass. This was all while the twin monitors played sensorily overwhelming visuals, flashing lights, swirling spirals (pink and purple, blurred text overlaying it), half-naked anime girls and candy-sweet gore, fake blood tinged almost pink and making your mouth water. 

"This song is...really fucking good..."

"Oh yeah?" Ren chuckled, watching the way your chest heaved as he pulled the pink can away from your lips, the sugar-sweet liquid staining your chin and pooling in the valley of your heaving breasts, almost glistening against your pale skin under the harsh lights of the room. "Maybe you should...pay attention to it, hm? If it's that good~"

You barely managed to slur a meek "okay" as he pressed his free hand between your shoulder blades, suddenly forcing your chest forward and bending your body in two, before pressing his hips squarely against your backside. His hand then curled into your ‘hair’ (the shitty wig, sliding atop your head and showing off some of your real hair) and pushed your head forward, so your eyes would focus on nothing but the flashing lights and visuals on screen, and he could keep you still and stimulated.

"That's a good girl," He said as the lower half of your body moved to the beat of the music, swaying and jerking against his crotch. "Just focus on the beat. That’s it."

Your hazy eyes locked forward, almost (entirely) involuntarily (though maybe there was something a little hot about that), widening slightly as the lights sped up to match the sped-up beats-per-minute, black and white imprinted on your lids and blurring your vision.

The rest of the clubgoers blurred, too, into a muddy and abject sea of multicoloured wigs, cheap AliExpress cosplay and fursuits. 

None of them mattered. Nobody mattered here.

All that mattered were those monitors, now showing censored hentai and those overlays of pink and purple spirals, making your heart pound and your brain throb in your skull.

What little brain you still had.

Ren pressed closer to you, arching his body over your bent back, the solid weight of his body an anchor against the increasingly dizzying effect of the music and the lights.

“Y’know, you really do look good tonight, baby…”

"Heh," You laughed, breathing out unsteadily as you tried to stand up straight again. He kept you still with the hand in your hair, claws threateningly digging into your scalp (if you got any blood on this wig, you’d kill him). "Hehehe…mm…” Your hair lolled forward even more. “My head feels funny, Ren~"

Your voice was soft, sweet, almost simpering, nowhere close to the ‘bitchy tone’ he occasionally took issue with.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, a hidden smirk playing on his lips as he took in your dazed expression and the needy look in your eyes, pulling your hips closer to his crotch, so you could feel the stirrings of his arousal against the ‘gusset’ of your bike shorts. "That's reeeeally interesting, sweetheart..."

"Hhhhehehe, did you druuug me?" You laughed again as he pushed you forward, the small if persisting amount of fear barely audible in your voice over the pounding music.

"Now, why would I do something like that, hm?" He asked, his tone almost innocent, the cock to his head and the smirk on his voice audible through his facade of guiltlessness.

"I...don't know," You breathed out, licking your lips again to quell your nervousness and tasting the overwhelming sweetness of the Monster and the aftertaste of something…chalky. "I just feel so hot...and...hahhh...l-like I can’t even keep my head up. Heh," A shaky smile came to your face as you panted a little more. “I think you put something in my drink…”

"Aw, I don’t think so, baby. I think you might just be overheating…don’t you?" He asked with feigned sympathy and ignorance at your accusation, his hands then wandering across the planes of your body, the tips of his fingers trailing over the sweat-sticky bare skin of your back, your hips, your thighs. "Oh, you really do feel hot! Ah, I thought you were exaggerating! You poor thing."

"Hhhh," 

You wheezed uselessly as he pulled your shoulders upwards and trotted to your front, a little dribble of pink-tinged spittle running down your sticky chin. The music felt like it was only getting louder, though, despite him pushing you back, away from the heaving crowds of people (who were only getting more excited) and towards the corner of the ballroom.

Ren just chuckled at the sight of you, as you pressed your back against the cool metal wall of the ballroom, sliding downwards slightly, barely able to keep yourself upright.

 "God, you're pathetic," He laughed in your ear as his chest pressed against yours, your face flushed from the heat and the drugged drink, your lax body swaying to beats and lights, even when you were pinned to the wall. "You look so out of it, baby."

"Heh heh," You giggled brainlessly, trying to shut your mouth. You couldn’t stop drooling. "I...y-yeah...I guess I am."

"Yeahhhh, you're just a mess, aren’t you?" He continued to tease cruelly, his hands roaming your sides, your hips, again, thumbs hooking over the waistband of your bike shorts, threatening to pull them down completely. "But you love it, don't you? Feeling all brainless and all dizzy and needy. I bet you’re addicted to it, like you’re addicted to those fucking energy drinks~"

You couldn't say anything, your brain was only able to focus on those fucking flashing lights and the fucking pounding music, and how fucking good it was making you feel.

You had a sense that it wasn’t just sweat and Monster making you feel so wet.

"You're such a good girl, baby," He then said, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, his tongue running down to your exposed collar, tasting salt and sweet on your skin as his lips reached the sticky valley of Monster between your breasts. "And good girls get rewards, don't they?” He pulled back and eyed you with a fanged smile. “You want a reward, don't you, baby?"

"Mm," You moaned mindlessly, nodding in time with the music.

"Good girl, asking for what you want," He growled in satisfaction, his tongue tracing back up the side of your neck and to your ear as he pulled you closer. "I think you're going to enjoy it, too~"

Your hazy mind didn't catch his hand going into the pocket of his jeans (he hadn’t even dressed up, not like you had, you always made such a fucking effort to impress him), but you knew immediately what he had done when you felt a familiar device buzz to life inside your panties.

"OH!"

You had forgotten about the bullet when you got dressed that morning. 

Have you been walking around with a sex toy in your underwear all day, even when you were at the convention?

The idea of it made your cunt twinge a little.

Well, a little more.

"Mmm," Ren hummed happily, the vibrations rocking through your body to the beat of the music (it must have had a special sensor built-in or something, how much had this cost him?), just making your brain slur even more as the bass pounded on and on. "You are a naughty girl, aren’t you? Letting me do something like this to you in public?"

"I-I didn't...ohhhh~" You moaned helplessly, tipping your head back against the wall as your thighs clenched together tightly, trying to contain all the pleasure within yourself. 

Your eyes stayed open, though, half-lidded and staring ahead at those pink graphics.

"But you don't hate it, do you?" He asked, nipping at your ear, tugging at the hoop through it and pressing his fingers against the front of your shorts, forcing the small device a little harder against you, right where it needed to be. "It feels good, doesn't it?  And you look so hot like this, baby, all needy and mindless. Everyone here is going to know you're my girl and be so jealous."

Of course, you didn’t hate this.

Your full lips were slack and drooling a sticky mix of spit and energy drink down your chin and making your nipples show through your shitty costume. Your eyes were locked ahead, practically pinned in place, and your entire body was positively thrumming with pleasure, both from the vibrator in your panties and the enthralling trance you’d be put under, both only made worse by a sped-up and bass-boosted version of the Ouran High School Host Club theme song.

How could you possibly hate even a moment of this?

Hate wasn't an option you could choose, anymore. 

Just gleeful happiness.

"That's what I thought," Ren praised your non-answer with a triumphant smile, his lips trailing back to the crook of your neck and sucking at the skin, leaving a small mark (which you barely reacted to, you were so gone) before his voice dropped even lower in your ear. "And you're going to stay like this for me, all needy and pretty, all night, until everyone here can see just how filthy my baby is for me, aren't you?"

"Yessss," You drawled out with another mindless moan, the vibrator in your panties building in intensity as the droning bridge dropped and the bass began to pound. "God, yes..."

"Suuuuch a good girl," He whispered, his fangs finding the edge of your ear and biting down hungrily, his chest rising and falling against your front in time with the beat. Maybe this was exciting him as much as it was exciting you. "I want you to look at the stage, baby. I want you to watch what's on the screen for me."

You hadn’t looked away all this time, but found all the more reason not to when he was ordering you around like this.

"You don't need anything, do you, baby? You don't need to think or worry about anything, hm?" He murmured, his soft voice somehow permeating each rise and fall of the music. "All you need is to focus on is how good the music feels, how good I make you feel, and how desperately you want more…”

"Y-Yeah," You murmured softly, your hazy eyes half-lidded again as your lips went slack with another desperate wheeze of breath. "Hhhh..."

“And only good girls get to feel like this, don’t they?" He then asked, somehow turning up the bullet another notch and listening to you moan, pink spirals reflected in your glassy, doll-like eyes. “Only good girls get to feel this happy and free.”

"I'm a good girl," You smiled brainlessly, your head tilting back. "Ngh, I’m a good girl..."

"That's right," He whispered with a proud smile, nuzzling against you, the soft whisps of his hair and fur of his ears damp with sweat. "You're my good girl. Soooo, you're going to keep dancing for me, all mindless and dumb, so that everyone here knows you’re mine, and there’s nothing they can do about it. Sound good?”

"Uh huh~" 

“So pathetic. Hmm, no wonder I like you so much~”

Part Two

"Thank you so much for your help!" 

The elevator doors slid open with a low ‘ding’.

You looked up in silent alarm with an exhausted murmur, drunken and dazed and still drooling down your front, your gaze switching from one arm, which Ren had thrown over his shoulder, and the other, where a random guy (in a pretty decent Leon Kennedy cosplay) was supporting you, helping the younger man carry your slack body back up to your hotel room.

He couldn’t have done it himself, after all.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do to help?” He asked, scraping the fibres of his blonde wig from his eyes. “She looks pretty out of it, man."

"Yeah, totally,” Ren smiled, his tail wagging behind you as he held onto you a little tighter, his other arm slung around your waist, protectively, possessively holding you against his smaller body, like the good boyfriend he was trying to be. “She's just a little drunk after the rave, is all. She’ll be totally fine after I’ve gotten her to lie down. Isn’t that right, sweetie?" 

He squeezed your hip hard, making you groan and lean into him a little more, playing the perfect role of a drunken girlfriend (reacting to his squeezes like a toy would). 

"You know how it is,” He added with an appreciative smile towards the stranger. “Her first con, getting excited and all..."

"Oh yeah, for sure.” ‘Leon’ nodded empathetically, following Ren as they both dragged you down the hall and towards your room. “My boyfriend is the same, totally..."

After a few more moments of polite chatter and you stumbling along with them, (the vibrator thankfully at rest in your panties, you wouldn’t have been able to walk if it was still going like it was), Ren reluctantly let go of your waist for a second to retrieve the room’s key card from his jean pocket.

"This is us!” He said, producing the card and holding you tighter. “Thanks again for your help."

"For sure.” ‘Leon’ smiled as Ren tapped the key to the door and opened it up, helping you through the door frame with a sheepishness in his posture (possibly cluing into the dynamic between the two of you, who knew). “Um, have a good rest of your night. And, uh,” He smiled again, a little awkwardly, and gestured to the space above his head. “Love your ears by the way. Super realistic!"

Ren’s tail swayed a little more as he waved the guy off happily.

"You too! Enjoy the rave!"

‘Leon’ left you to it and Ren waited patiently until he had walked down the corridor, back to the elevator, before he shut the door behind the two of you. He took your shoulder in hand and jerked you towards the hotel’s bed with an authoritative kind of promptness, like he couldn’t wait to do…whatever he had planned next.

"Makes you feel good, doesn't it?” He asked, his voice airy and casual, as you slumped on the edge of the bed with a tired moan. “Someone helping like that. People are so nice."

"Mmh..." You nodded lazily in agreement, trying to keep your head up.

Ren just chuckled watching you try to stay alert (stay guarded from whatever he had planned) and started to pace around the room, his arms crossed as he assessed the bags and boxes of figures, plushies, art prints, and…well, whatever else you saw in the convention centre that attracted your attention.

You had so little of your own. Could you be blamed for going a little ham with this stuff?

"You really spent a lot of my money, didn't you, sweetie?” He asked, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head, as if he was scolding you for something. “I think you brought half the artist alley back up here! Mm, that's okay, though.” He smiled, a subdued sort of cruelty touching his eyes and making you shiver, his tail continuing to sway. “I have a sense that you're gonna make it up to me."

“Ren,” You murmured softly as he approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving you a swift shove backwards, your back hitting the overstuffed mattress and stained blankets with a quiet ‘oof’. “I-I don’t feel so good…can we take it slow tonight? Please?”

“I don’t think so,” Ren crooned lowly with an indulgent smirk, moving his knee between your legs and pushing them apart, your skirt having completely ridden up and your bike shorts concealing next to nothing."God, this outfit really is hot.” He said, leaning over you then, his hands bracketing your full hips. “I'm sorry my costume didn't come in time, we would have looked so cool matching tonight…"

"What did you give me?" You slurred, letting out an unsteady breath as he reached up your skirt and pulled down your shorts, past your thigh highs and boots, and tossed them to the side. “Ren, seriously…hh, my head is fucking killing me…”

“Hm?” He looked up, his ears moving forward in alarm, before he tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "What’s that? Are you coming down, baby?” He grinned at your sudden discomfort, exposing wet fangs and eyes gleaming with malice. “Aw, don't worry, I have some more where that came from."

“More of what?” You asked, making an attempt to sit up on the bed.

He ignored your question and quickly stepped away from you then, pacing back across the hotel room to fetch another tall can of Monster from the television stand (adorned with make-up products and discarded underwear from the previous night).

 "See, it’s even in your favourite flavour~" Ren teased with another grin, cracking open the can and kneeling back on the bed, looming over you, as he shoved you back down. “Open wide!”

“MMH-!”

He poured out the first spill of Monster liberally, covering your flushed face and heaving chest with the sticky, carbonated liquid all over again, and making the blankets beneath your slack body sodden and very cold.

"You really are addicted to this stuff, aren’t you? I should just keep you fed on this…” He mused with a dirty, little titter, before reaching forward and taking your cheeks in hand, squeezing them together and forcing your mouth open in a demeaning pout. “I could just pour it into a dog bowl and leave it out for you all day.” 

He poured out another spill of it, and you had to open your mouth wide (as much as you could in his grip) to catch the majority of it, lest you be covered in even more.

“Wffh,” You breathed out a spray of the sticky fluid, covering your chin as you tried to shake your head out of his grip. “What did you give me…hhh…”

He sat himself down on your thighs then, balancing the can on your heaving chest, nestled between your sticky breasts, dusky nipples hard from the cold fluid and pressed, pornographically tight, against your bikini top.

"It's kind of funny that you're so clueless about it, you know.” He said, reaching to his back pocket and producing a plastic baggie of white powder. “Didn't you ever get a DARE class about date rape drugs, when you were still in school?” He drew his words deliberately slow as he opened the baggie, carefully pouring a small amount of the powder into the can, making it fizz and overflow across your stomach. 

He tilted his head condescendingly as he tucked the baggie away, and took hold of your face again, claws digging into your sticky skin. 

"Or did you get one, and you were too much of a dumb idiot to pay attention to it, hm?"

You swallowed another mouthful of energy drink as it poured onto your face again, the chalky aftertaste familiar from when he had drugged you before, back at the rave.

Ketamine. 

Fuck, you always had bad reactions to ketamine.

"I mean, I know they call them date rape drugs and all. But..." Ren shrugged as he poured another mouthful of the tainted Monster into your mouth, not caring when you spluttered and choked on it. "I think that sort of suggests that you're not desperate for it. When I know you totally are!" 

He licked his lips hungrily, watching as you sucked in a hard breath, just trying to breathe while you were waterboarded with fucking Monster Energy. 

"Maybe they should just call them 'date' drugs, hm? Cus they make you all...loose and ready for it, right?"

He set the half-finished can on the bedside table and pushed himself back, completely between your legs, before pressing the persisting bulge in his jeans (little pervert that he was, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been hard all this time) against the front of your panties, seeing just how wet you had gotten from his teasing back at the rave.

"Rennn..." You whined needily through a wet splutter of energy drink, raising your hips with shaky calves to meet his needy thrusts. “Gh, please-”

"Shhh, I'm right here, baby." He cooed, pulling himself back enough so he could pull the sides of your panties down your legs and enjoy you bare and vulnerable underneath him. "Mm, look at you, all wet and needy for me.” He murmured with another indulgent smirk. “Well, I guess I have an advantage in that sense, don't I?"

"NHH!"

The bullet inside of you (because it had been pushed against enough to slide in there) buzzed to life again.

When had he even gotten his phone out?

You whined loudly the second it started buzzing again, breathing hard as you squeezed your eyes shut, hips tilting upwards just trying to find even more of the sinful vibrations.

"I reeeally thought you were gonna cum down there, you know. When we were in the rave.” Ren smirked, sitting up on his knees and unbuckling his belt with dextrous hands. “Or in the elevator, in front of that strange guy.” He then reached down to unzip and unbutton his jeans, shifting forward again to rub against your buzzing opening again, his tail wagging as the vibrations clearly had an effect on him too. “Heh, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

“Mmm…ah,” You breathed out, shivering with pleasure as his hand slid up your (sticky) stomach and to your damp bikini top, teasing your nipple through the wet fabric.

"Like how you like showing off in your slutty, little bikini.” He breathed out with a little chuckle. “I'm not mad…mmh," He shifted down his boxers then, pushing your thighs open even more and giving himself a bigger space to slot his cock into. "The exact opposite, actually. It's really, reeeally hot how much you enjoy being a huge slut. Most girls don't have your sense, you know~"

You took in another sharp inhale when you felt the head of his cock rub against your cunt, teasing, threatening you with more.

"Nhhh…” You squeezed your eyes shut, your arms laying slack at your side as the drug pulsed through your veins again, just making your head spin even more. “No, no…”

“Don’t say no to me, baby. I know you don’t really mean it, after all.” He chided lightly,  the claws of his free hand digging into your thigh as he tried to push himself closer, push himself inside of you. "You know, I don't think girls like you can even get raped,” He added with another airy, aroused titter. “Mm, at least not by guys like me."

"AH!" You gasped, your eyes shooting wide and your head absolutely swimming with drugged lust as he pushed deeper into you, the length of his hard cock filling you up completely and the initial swellings of his knot pressed against your slit, wet and open and hungry. “Oh, fuck, Ren-!”

"God, you're so wet, already,” He breathed out, shoving himself closer towards you, building up an initial momentum of pounding thrusts as his chest heaved in time with each of your whines and whimpers. “I barely have any friction at all. I can just..."

You grit your teeth, eyes squeezing shut again as he pushed deeper inside of you.

"Slide in, knot first.” He grinned, half delirious with his own pleasure, a string of drool clinging to his wet teeth and dripping across your chest, breasts bouncing each time he thrust deeper inside of you, looking all the more pornographic and ridiculous. “Haha, I bet you won't even be able to cling onto my knot like this, you know. You're just so wound up and wet~"

He slapped your hip sharply, seeking some kind of physical reaction, and making you shriek and tighten up around him.

Or, well, attempt to tighten up. 

You were sort of too far gone to try doing that now.

"Fuck, why is even that getting me hot?” He breathed out, his heavy body sinking down against yours to pin you against the bed, rutting harder against you, each wet slap of flesh against flesh pushing you that much closer to your limit (whatever that limit was, you weren’t so sure anymore). “You really bring out the worst in me, baby."

“Ohhh,” You moaned loudly, unable to hold anything back with so many drugs in your system, the concoction of caffeine and ketamine (and a little booze) making you feel that much more disorientated and totally out of it. “Ren, Ren, Ren!”

“I’m right here, shhh, I’m here just for you,” He murmured, nestling close to you, his sharp cannibal teeth against your sticky neck and his tongue drawing wet lines up your skin. “I mean, hah,” He breathed hard, scenting you, intimate and sweet, contradicting his harsher actions. “I was already pretty bad. But ohhh, you just make me want to be even worse…mm,” 

You felt the cold press of his teeth against your neck, and your pelvis tightened even more.

“But I don’t need to be.” Ren pulled back from the bite, smoothing his tongue over the sore flesh (as if he was apologising for it, something he would never do with words alone) as his hips drived harder and faster against yours, pushing you into a state of quasi delirium that felt just so good. “You’re just suuuuch a gooood girl, so I don’t need to force you to do anything at all, do I? …mmmh~”

“Hah-hah-hah,” You breathed out, wrapping an arm around his neck as you felt his touch descend to the soft folds of your pelvis, trying to push you open and give himself enough space to work his knot into. “T-Too much, ngh-!”

“See, you’re saying that…” He breathed out with an unsteady exhale, pulling back enough to look you in the eye, a broad, dirty grin on his face as his thrusting resumed, never pausing for even a second of respite. “But I’m hearing that I should do more. You just like to challenge me so much, don’t you?”

You suddenly cried out as he pressed into you completely, working his knot all the way inside of your cunt, his forehead pressed to yours as you grit your teeth from the painful stretch.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He praised you with another long exhale, smiling down at you, serenely, like you were doing something truly worthy of pride. “Just like that. Fuck, you’re clenching so hard,” His eyelids fluttered (the same as yours always did) as you tightened up around him, again, only forcing him to try and thrust deeper, push his knot even more inside of you. “That’s so good, baby, so good-!”

“Oh, Ren, Ren, fuck!” You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulders. “Yes, yes!”

“Yesss, you’re so good, you like that so much, don’t you?”

“I LOVE IT!!!”

[chuulyssa]

​🇾​​🇴​🇺 ​❜ ​🇷​​🇪​ ​ 🇸​​🇴​ ​ 🇵​​🇷🇪🇹🇹​​🇾​ , ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺 ​❜ ​🇷🇪 ​ ​🇸​​🇴​ ​🇵​​🇴🇵​🇺​​🇱​​🇦​​🇷​.

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ !

↷ A/N ─ first songfic! I TRIED OKAY??? love this song btw. also i tried to make this as less slutty and more angsty as i could.

★ COUNT ─ 2.1k

!! TAGS ─ f!reader x pm!dazai, reader is in the port mafia, fantasization, dubcon (only kissing), mentions of rape and stuff in the song, angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader is down bad for dazai

this isn't outright smut but there are a few mentions of it in the reader's thoughts, so im putting the mdni sign

★ PROLOGUE ─ he was everything you ever wanted. but would he ever see that?

♬ SONG ─ ecstasy

SMUT, 18+, MDNI

READ ON AO3

You couldn't believe the first time Dazai had kissed you. It felt so unreal, so distant. Your lips had locked in a perfect embrace as if they had been carved just for each other. And then he had pulled away ever so slightly and rested his forehead against yours, telling you how much he loves you.

It had felt like a dream come true. Although you had joined the Port Mafia earlier than him, you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with him.

What was it? A crush? Love? A fantasy? You didn't know, and you didn't care to. All you believed was that you were made for Dazai, and how could you not? His hair would move along with the wind when he would look at you for a bit too long - or so you would think, deluding yourself into the deception of a world where you woke up and fell asleep with his kisses.

I just wanna be your sweetheart Fucking come here, give me your heart

On several occasions you had tried giving him signals - letting him know that you wanted him. That you loved him. That you would listen to him blabber about in bars till dusk. That you would stroke his hair and tell him that he was perfect in every way possible if you had the courage. That you would be with him even if you were the only one standing.

"Earth to Y/N?" Dazai snaps his fingers in front of you, yanking you away from your thoughts.

"Yeah?" you said, slightly flustered.

"As I was saying, we have to first infiltrate the organization from the inside. It will be a bit difficult since it's just the two of us-"

The two of us.

Us.

Your mind began to slip away from Dazai again as you thought about the possibility of you and Osamu Dazai becoming "us" and "we". It was blissful. Your eyes began looking glossy, and he probably noticed, because he sighed and shook his head before ruffling your hair.

You came crashing down to earth again.

Just you and me to infinity I can't fucking breathe, too much ecstasy

On your way to the mission, your eyes kept glancing at him. He looked so pretty, with his hair cascading down in front of his eye in the most perfect manner, and his bandaged hands making your knees wobbly as you imagined how they would feel on your thighs, slowly inching towards your core.

The thought made you shiver, and you stumbled slightly. Dazai spared you a look of concern.

"Are you sure you're okay? I could handle them alone if you want."

"I'm alright. I can do this," you smiled softly at him. Yes, I can do this, you thought, I can do this because I'm with you.

He was your motivation, your burning desire. He was your ray of happiness in the cruel world. He was everything you had ever wanted in life.

The two of you made it to the front of the organization's immaculate house, where a party was being held. The mission was simple; get into the party in disguise and kill a few easy targets. You hadn't paid much attention to Mori's instructions anyway, for your eyes had looked at nothing other than Dazai, heart leaping with joy at the thought of being partnered with him again.

Dazai put a hand on the small of your back, and you felt goosebumps arise. He guided you into the party after giving you a small nod, and you interlocked your arms with his.

You met a few people here and there; none that you cared about. All you focused on tonight - and probably every night since you had first met him - was him. His face. His body. His voice. His laughter. His expressions. His jokes. Him. He was perfect.

Kiss me on the lips, choke me on the floor Drag me around, and push me right against your door

The night continued on, and there was only Dazai in your mind. You couldn't get him out at all, not when he was right in front of you, forehead against yours and about to kiss you. You felt as though the entire world had faded away, leaving only you and Dazai in a bubble of your own.

You held your breath as you waited for all your dreams to finally come true.

His lips hovered just inches from yours, and you felt dizzy from anticipation. Time seemed to stand still as you forced your eyes to be on his. Your heart raced in your chest, matching the frantic beat of the music pulsing in the distance from the party you had left to complete your mission.

Oh. Right. Mission.

How could you forget? How foolish of you to think that this was real. The targets you were designated to kill wouldn't want Port Mafia members in the corridor you were currently in. This was all just a show to maintain your cover.

The realization hit you like a sledgehammer, shattering all your anticipation from before. You tore your gaze away from him, and his fingers immediately went up to clutch your jaw.

"Do you trust me?"

You were silent.

"Close your eyes."

You did, and he put his lips on yours tenderly, as if you were made of glass and could break by the slightest pressure. You felt like crying. You had wanted him to kiss you for so long, and here he was, kissing you as if you weren't supposed to catch feelings for him right then and there - as if he was completely okay if you were ruined because of him.

Dazai's fingers slid from your jaw to your neck, caressing it softly before changing the pace of his kisses. They felt more passionate, but were they, really? This was all a facade. This didn't mean anything to him. Anything at all.

I'm your little doll, come and play with me Dyeing all my hair, we could be in the scene

The car ride back home was silent. Dazai had a few stains of blood on the black collar of his coat - none his, thankfully - yet he drove like he hadn't just murdered some people.

You sighed. Yes, the Port Mafia wasn't a place for feelings, and Dazai knew that perfectly well. You had finally realized that Dazai was nothing but a cold person who had no remorse, no guilt, no emotions at all while he toyed with others.

You had given away nearly half of the life you had lived up till now for him. You had given away all of yourself. You had changed yourself as much as you could. You had listened to everything he would tell you. You had done everything you could yet here you were, eyes burning as you struggled to keep them open so you didn't end up breaking down in front of the very person who was breaking you every second of this long ride.

When you reached the door to your house, you gave him a little wave, and he looked hesitant.

"Can I stay over for tonight?"

Every muscle in your body screamed at you to say no, to tell him to fuck off, maybe even punch him and shatter a few bones so he knows what it's like to be broken. Instead, you resorted to nodding lowly, not a word escaping your lips as you unlocked the door, kicked off your shoes and walked into your room, locking it from inside.

How dare he after what he did to you? How could he? Was he that heartless? Was he really how people had described him to be? Cold, ruthless and merciless? You thought you knew better, but did you?

Your legs gave in and you sunk to the floor, your back against the door. Why did he have to kiss you? Why did you agree to this stupid mission? Why did you ever fall for this man?

Lights out, you don't tap out You're so crazy, manipulate me

"Y/N?"

You immediately wiped your face on your pillow and got up to go to the living room where he sat. Tonight, for the first time in your life, Dazai was nothing but a guest to you. Not a crush. Not your love at first sight. Nothing. Just a colleague.

"I heard you. I thought you might need a drink," he offered you one, and you slowly took it from him.

You stared at the bottle of wine on the table. He had probably ordered it just now. It was an expensive one, not one you usually drank. Well, you weren't much of a drinker anyway. But tonight, maybe you could drink a little, to drown your sorrows with the very man who caused them.

The room was dimly lit, and faint moonlight formed a few odd shapes on the floor. The two of you sat drinking, and while Dazai seemed sober enough, you were already almost wasted.

"Listen," Dazai said suddenly as if he had finally made up his mind to say something. "I wanted to ask. Did that kiss mean anything to you?"

"What kiss?" you acted dumb. You didn't need to be reminded of that, not right now in your most vulnerable state.

"Don't play dumb with me, Y/N," he said sternly. "You know exactly what I mean."

You pursed your lips. "Yeah, I do. Answer that question yourself first."

"It did. A lot."

What?

You stared at him. Was this another way to break your heart even more? Was he toying with you again? Yes, this had to be another one of his manipulation tricks. But somewhere, in the corner of your heart, a tiny voice said, the Dazai I know isn't like that. He would never do something like that.

And you felt your defences crumbling all over again. You didn't care if he manipulated you and left you heartbroken as long as you got to be with him for some part of your life. You loved him. Loved.

Fucking chase me, fucking break me You're my everything, please just rape me

For the second time that night, Dazai's hands were on you. Only this time, you were happy. You wanted him. You needed him. And so you kissed him back with all your might.

You couldn't think straight at all. You couldn't feel him stand up and carry you to your bed. You couldn't see him covering the two of you with blankets to kiss you under its privacy. All you knew was that you were in his arms, and wanted to stay that way forever.

Osamu Dazai was kissing you. The Osamu Dazai. Osamu the-Youngest-Executive-in-the-History-of-the-Port-Mafia Dazai. Was this real? You didn't know. All you wanted was for the moment to go on forever.

You pulled away once more to catch your breath. On top of you, Dazai was panting too, brushing away hair from your eyes and blowing air on your face gently. You were sweating from the heat of the moment. His breath felt cool and cold, but his touch was warm, just like you had fantasized it to be.

"What are we?" you asked.

"Everything."

I just wanna be your sweetheart Fucking come here, give me your heart

You woke up as curtained sunlight hit your face, blinking at the sensation to try and keep your eyes open. A slight shift in your position made you feel Dazai against your chest, his face buried sideways and lips in a small pout.

Your eyes widened as you realized the events of the previous night. It was real. You two were official. You were dating Osamu Dazai.

Your movement had caused Dazai to purr lightly, his voice making your brain numb. Assuming he was tired, you patted his head, still in disbelief over your fortune and merely resorted to staring at the ceiling. You didn't want to wake him up. The feeling of him getting so cozy and vulnerable with you made you want to stay still like that forever.

How could someone be so pretty? So endearing? What must it be like to be that beautiful? To be someone's will to live? To be someone's first laugh and smile? How was it that someone could capture your heart this way? You felt a whirlwind of emotions; pathetic, romantic, love, disbelief. You felt everything as you stared at his sleeping figure, chest heaving up and down to match his heart beat.

You could almost feel him take your breath away. God, you loved him so bad.

Just you and me to infinity I can't fucking breathe, too much ecstasy

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[gauloiseblue]

Medic!Reader × Poly!141

Part I | Part II | Part III

[TW: attempted rape, a little bit of violence]

A/N: I'm gonna highlight the TW part so you can scroll down to skip it

It'd be thrilling for you to be on your first mission, if not for the fact that Graves himself requested it

You have the ideas, but not getting the ideas on why at the same time

You could see why he recruited you to the field, but you're not among the best medic out there, you're just a new recruit so you're basically unqualified for such missions.

If his intention is to get into your pants, well… you won't know what to do

If he's the type who likes to chase women around, then it's easier for you to be the 'easy target' for him. But at the same time, you shudder at the possibility of having to sleep with him

On the flight to the field, you mull over the choices you have

"Johnny."

"Hm?"

"Would you be…. Would you…. Hm," Your face scrunched, "... No, that sounds wrong."

"Wha' is it? Spill it out."

"... Would you be my fake boyfriend for a while? Okay, let me explain first."

Still, he wears the bewildered face, even after you explain everything

"I don't mind, but is it really necessary?" He furrows his brows

"I know it doesn't make sense, but hear me out. You knew what kind of letters he sent to me, you said it yourself that he's getting bolder each day, and trust me when I said that I have known this kind of man my whole life. They won't stop until they get what they want."

"Seems like yer an asshole magnet." He chuckled, "On a serious note, don't ye think he'll get more aggressive after knowin' that you 've a 'boyfriend'?"

"You're right." You rub your face in frustration, "But I don't have a choice, I don't wanna sleep with him."

He thought for a second. "I'll see what I do." He then wraps his arm around your neck, tugging on you in a joking manner, "But don't you think I could misunderstand your request?"

"No, you're just not the type." You laugh, "Besides, I can't see anyone in the team who would be willing to help me, for this kind of stuff…"

"... Now tha' I think 'bout it, yer right."

Upon arrival, the soldier tells the team to move immediately to the base. You're only given 5 minutes to settle down before briefing

To say that the briefing is unpleasant… is an understatement

While the commander gives an introduction for the team, you feel an uncomfortable gaze on you

You don't have to guess it, because when you lift your head, you can see Graves' been eyeing you

It feels like an eternity before it's over

Even then, it's not really over. Because once the commander is done with his speech, Graves casually mentions that he need to talk to Price in private, while not looking away from you

Thankfully, Price dismissed you from accompanying him

Back at the new base, you notice that your room is quite separated from the rest of the team, and that Price's room is farthest away from you

The closest one from your quarter is Ghost, and you can't see yourself asking him for help

That is, until 3 days have passed, and you find two cockroaches under the bed

You scream and jump, and sprint out of the room

And somehow you bump into him in the hallway before you can even acknowledge who's there

(If you knew who it was, you'd rather stay in your room, even with those cockroaches)

He's slightly annoyed by the incident, but asks you what's wrong. You swallow your pride and tell him that you saw cockroaches

"You can just step on it."

"... I'm too afraid to do that."

Seems like your scream attracted more attention, as you saw Gaz and Soap getting out from their room as well, asking if something's up

Ghost gives him a brief explanation, making Soap laughs out loud

"Jeesus, I thought we were under attack or something."

"We should kill them then." Gaz suggested

"Don't kill them." You said

"What'd ye wanna do then? Lettin' them be and hopin' that they'll politely leave yer room?"

"No, just… put them outside or something."

"Ya think they won't come back again?"

While you're busy bickering with Soap, Ghost slips into your room and takes care of it. You only realize it when he comes back with 2 cockroaches dangling in his hand, still wiggling

You almost screamed the second time if you didn't immediately hide behind Gaz

"You still wanna let these things loose?"

"Yes—yes, put them outside—"

And he obeys it without question

Which is surprising, to say the least

While you're grateful that your problem was solved, it actually creates more problems in the future. Because Soap would literally chase you around with a cockroach in his hand (and you have no idea where he gets it)

He'll get scolded by either Price or Ghost though

Anyway, besides the bugs and hot weather, you get used to your new en pretty quickly, as well as your job

Treating minor wounds, talking to injured soldiers, writing and sorting documents, all the usual stuff

You already knew that it wouldn't be easy to treat soldiers in the active warzone, but your team clearly been spoiling you

Most of the soldiers would either scream in pain, or scream at you, and sometimes even both. You attempt to use "You can complain about it later when we finish." but it doesn't work

You could bear it for a few weeks, before you got fed up and straight up running your mouth

"Look, if you wanna get uneven stitches and unnecessary infections, you can keep going. Go on and stress me out, so I will fuck it up."

And when they're still mad at you, you hit them with "I'm gonna report all of your complaints to Captain Price, he's my superior after all. State your name and complain to me, I'll tell him myself."

You felt bad borrowing Price's name, but that's the only thing that made them shut up

Sometimes you hear them muttering "Price's whore" under their breath, but you could care less

You also help other medics when the soldiers straight up humiliate them, by saying that you'll send your report to Graves. It works wonder as well

That is, until the man itself shows up in front of your room when you're just about to call it a day

"I see you've been conducting your survey in the field for me. What was it again? The 'soldier's satisfaction on medic's service'?"

You're actually taken aback by it, but you kept your composure

"I just thought that it's best for the upper rank to hear their complaints, for a reason that they're the one who decides what's the best course of action for the medic."

He chuckles at your explanation, "You're smart, I like that." He then says, "But y'know, borrowing my name for it isn't very wise of you. I can just punish you for that, but I'll let it slide this time."

"Thank you sir, I won't do it again."

"Oh, no. Keep doing it." He put his hand on your shoulder, giving enough weight to emphasize his point, "But keep Price's name out of it. If they complain about you, you should tell them that I would like to request their presence immediately."

After your encounter with him, you feel a sense of dread inside your chest, as if you've been opening a pandora box

Because the next day, Graves decides to oversee the medics' work by himself

Not only that, he'd ask the soldier if they need anything more from the medic, as if he's doing an inspection

His presence gives everyone in the room a tension

One soldier quietly murmurs "This is a warzone, and not a whorehouse for God's sake."

You pretended you didn't hear him

The news about him reach to your own team, and Soap is the first one who confront you about it

"What were ya thinking? Using his name as if you knew him personally?"

"I had to, if not, they're gonna harass the other medics and slow us down."

"Did'ya even think about the consequences? Did it ever cross your mind?"

You want to object him, but you know he's right

"... Sorry, I didn't mean ta shout. It's just that," He presses his hand on his chin, "It's more serious than I thought. Graves wouldn't even bother checking his deputy."

"What should I do then? Should I just… go along with it or ignore him?"

"Don't ever think about ignoring him, it'll only make him excited."

"Then, if I go along with him…?"

"Don't do that either."

He proceeded to explain the probability of him using you for a selfish reason, and it's likely for him to keep you to himself via blackmail

"Okay, then what should I do exactly?"

"Let's see." He thought for a moment, "You could keep doing what you do… no, he'll just prolong your contract." He hummed, forehead creased, "... I think you have to have a rival."

His suggestion causes you to frown, "A rival? Where can I find her? Are there any girls who like him?"

"There's a lot, actually."

He starts to tell you a few names that have caught Graves' attention, from the korean soldier, to the senior in your work

"I don't know…" You bit your lip, "It seems wrong to use my own senior."

"Ye don't have a lot of choice." He shrugs, "They a'ready 've a feelin' for him anyway, ye just need to create the spark between them. Though it'll be hard for ya to do since ye rarely met her, moreover the two of 'em."

"... Okay, we'll see about that."

Several days have passed, and for the first time after your arrival that the fortune goddess smiles at you

You're on your way to Price's office when you spot a brunette girl talking with Graves, and you realize that she's one of the girls Soap talked about

For a split second, your brain decides to prepare a trap, which he falls into without struggle

You've known jealousy for half of your life, mainly from the men you've dated before, so it's easy for you to replicate

And it worked. He really thinks you are, and riles you up by pulling the girl close by her waist

He tugs a smile of satisfaction when you freeze, before passing them with your head down

You continued doing it for 3 to 4 times, while successfully avoiding him in the process. You begin to see him less and less, to the point that you're so sure you're free from him

Until you receive an invitation to a party, hosted by the suspected "businessman" in the neighboring country, delivered by Graves himself

"You're the perfect girl for this mission." He smirks, "It'll be a good time for us to be together, to make up for the time we've lost."

"Uh…." You stare at the invitation on his hand, unable to think, "I… don't think I'm the right person for it, sir. I'm just a medic, I haven't even completed my self-defense training yet."

"I certainly don't mind it if you become a damsel in distress." He teased, which irked you so badly, you almost broke your charade, "Trust me, I know you'll do a great job on it. You'll fit right in with the riches, just like me."

"Well, thank you for the compliment, but really, I'm not cut out of this job. I'm sure Gillian from the intelligent team is more suitable for it."

He let out a sigh, not even hiding the impatience in his breath, "So you'll deny the order from your superior?"

It's enough to shut you up immediately, and you reluctantly shake your head. "No, sir. I'm sorry."

"Good girl." He smiles at you, satisfied, "We'll depart by tomorrow morning, make sure you come on time."

Turns out, Gaz and Ghost are also on the mission. Gaz lights up when he sees you, although a little puzzled because you're not supposed to be on this kind of mission. You have no time to explain to him because Graves already pulls you to the cockpit, separating you with 2 other men

Fast forward, after the disastrous preparation and changing the dress at the last minute (because Graves picked up the most revealing dress that didn't suit you at all), you settle with a long slitted dress and simple makeup.

The party is decent, (you've been to bigger, more extravagant parties, that's why) there's champagne, free buffet, and a chatty host

Graves immediately approaches the man, exchanging greetings and all, while you stick to your role as an arm candy

Before the party, all the members got a briefing about their assignments. Graves would be the one who observes the situation and gives commands, Gaz would be the sniper and distraction so Ghost could sneak in to get the files and the man himself. You didn't get anything, so you assumed you're just an arm candy, until the man offered you a tour to his wine cellar, and you immediately knew that you're the bait

You don't like him one bit, and the fact that you're being used as bait makes you hate him more. He makes a lot of inappropriate jokes and touches, as well as a racist statement when Gaz is captured (he gets the news from the phone)

You try to grin and bear it, until he grabs your ass and presses himself against you. You struggle against him, and he doesn't take it too kindly as he punches your face with his fist full of rings

It hurts a lot that your ear is ringing from the impact. By the time you gain your senses, he's already on top of you, ripping your dress open

"Graves is a good friend of mine, he wouldn't mind if I play with his girls for a while."

You should've taken the self-defense class

It feels like eternity before you hear the door open, and a heavy step comes in. It takes around 3 seconds before the man collapses, with a small arrow on his back

You turn around to see Ghost with black tactical suit, and a different mask, which is just a plain black mask

You quickly cover yourself, fumbling with the remaining of your dress before you hear him calling your name. He calls you with a hushed tone, almost as if he's calling a wounded dog, which is quite accurate, since you don't realize you've been hyperventilating

"Look at me." He commanded, "Take a deep breath… and breathe out. Good, keep it going."

He asks you if you can stand up, and you slowly nod. But as you try to do so, the dress keeps slipping away from your body. Seeing you struggle, he decides to lend you his vest

"Cover yourself with it, and then we leave."

You and him leave the room, with the man on his shoulder, deep in slumber

Back at the makeshift base, they tie the man up on a chair

While Graves and Ghost take care of him, you go to the other room to take care of your swollen cheek. By the time you look in the mirror, it's already blooming red

You make a cold compress for your face, and you hiss at the sharp pain. You sit on the edge of the bed for a while, before you hear people walk in

"What's u— Oh no, what happened to your face?"

You look at Gaz, it seems like he escaped without hassle. "Nothing, just got punched by the package."

"Let me see… Damn, you got a cut."

"No wonder it stings."

He then helps you cleaning the wound, and when he pours the alcohol on the cotton, you stop him

"Let it be."

"Won't it get infected?"

"No, it's a shallow cut. See? The bleeding has stopped."

He chuckles, "I'll trust the medic then."

You both talk for a bit, before Ghost comes in

"We'll be leaving at dawn, make sure you get everything ready."

At dawn, as you and the crew enter the aircraft, you take a glance at the abandoned warehouse to see the man on the chair, unmoving. Graves seems to take notice of it, before he leans in and whispers, "Don't be sorry, he took it upon himself. He shouldn't have touched what's mine."

For a moment, you're filled with so much rage, that you forgot all of your play pretend. "I'm not an object you can play with, Graves." You retorted, words were filled with poison, "I'm not yours, and I will never be."

Which was a mistake, because the minute you said that, his eyes changed almost immediately. And you didn't like it at all