flaming-homozexual

[unforgivenn]

WHUMPTOBER - DAY 21 BODY HORROR

Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.”

CW: Torture, Body horror, Non-con marking/tattooing, mutilation, physical transformation, Psychological manipulation, Descriptions of blood, bile, and flesh decomposition

The low hum of the machine cut through the air like a whisper from Hell. Whumpee's wrists were strapped down, their skin cold against the steel cuffs, as Whumper prepared the tattoo gun.

Whumpee’s chest heaved, heart hammering inside their chest “Please,” they whimpered, their voice a fragile, broken thing. “Please, I don’t want this.”

Whumper’s face was unreadable, their eyes dark with something far colder than malice. “This is going to hurt,” they murmured, their gloved fingers gently brushing Whumpee’s tear-streaked cheek. The touch was so tender, it almost felt crueler. “But pain makes the body remember. And you? You need to remember me.”

“Please… don’t…” Whumpee’s voice cracked, every word soaked in desperation. Their body trembled, weak tremors against the restraints. “I-I didn’t mean to lie—I didn’t—”

“I know you didn’t,” Whumper replied, calm, like they were discussing nothing more than the time of day. “But you need to learn. There are consequences for secrets.”

The gun buzzed, the sound louder now as the needle hovered near Whumpee’s skin. The ink inside the gun wasn’t black. It wasn’t even red. It was a sickly, yellow-green sludge, thick like bile. Whumper dipped the needle in again, the liquid dripping slowly, like something rotten.

Whumpee’s breath hitched. “No… please…” Their words were barely audible between sobs, tears trailing down their face. “I don’t want to be marked like this…”

Whumper smiled, soft and sinister. “Oh, this isn’t a tattoo,” they whispered, pressing the needle to Whumpee’s collarbone. “This is your punishment.”

The needle pierced flesh.

Whumpee’s scream tore through the room, raw and guttural, the sound of something breaking inside them. It wasn’t just the sharp sting of the needle, though. No, this pain was something far worse. The ink—whatever it was—burned as it seeped into their skin, not like fire, but something alien, something wrong. The liquid crawled under their flesh like it was alive, twisting, writhing, spreading through their veins like a parasite.

Whumper leaned in, their breath hot against Whumpee’s ear. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? This ink binds with your nerves. You’ll feel everything.”

Whumpee’s body convulsed, their chest heaving in violent jerks. The skin around the tattoo puffed and swelled unnaturally, veins bulging and darkening, almost black beneath the surface. The flesh itself began to split, cracking like brittle paper, slowly tearing apart as though something inside was trying to escape.

“N-no… please!” Whumpee gasped, thrashing against the restraints. “It’s spreading—stop it!”

Whumper’s hand came down on their shoulder, pinning them in place with a firm, almost gentle pressure. The touch only made the skin there split further, a nauseating crack and wet squelch filling the room. Whumpee’s body jolted, spasming uncontrollably.

The ink wasn’t staying inside them anymore. It was leaking out, a thick, oozing sludge that dripped onto the table beneath them. The stench hit them instantly—like rotting flesh, festering meat left to decay. It bubbled under the skin, crawling and pulsing, stretching the flesh until it tore further, revealing raw, glistening muscle underneath.

“Look at it,” Whumper whispered, their voice dripping with twisted admiration. “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears. This is what you’ve always been underneath.”

“I-I can feel it—please, it’s moving inside me, please…” Whumpee sobbed, their voice barely holding together.

Then the convulsions became violent. Their bones shifted beneath their skin, cracking with sickening pops in ways bones were never meant to move. Their spine arched unnaturally, jagged pieces of bone pushing through their back, shredding through the already torn skin. Flesh peeled away like paper, hanging in strips, their body dissolving, mutating into something grotesque.

Whumper watched, their eyes gleaming with cruel fascination. “You always hid something disgusting under that pretty face. Now everyone can see.”

The air was thick with the smell of blood, bile, and rot. Whumpee’s throat burned as bile surged up, choking on the taste of copper and decay. Every nerve in their body felt like it was being torn open, the ink still slithering beneath their skin, turning their flesh into a horror of twisted limbs and pulsing, swollen veins.

“Just… kill me…” Whumpee begged, their voice barely more than a ragged breath. “Please…”

Whumper knelt down, gently brushing a bloodstained tear from their cheek. “No,” they whispered, voice soft, almost loving. “Not yet. You still have so much more to feel.”

[ross-nekochan]

Henna tattoo ❤️‍🔥

[dramioneasks]

Malfoy's Advocate. - Bellemedusa - E, 48 chapters - “Best case scenario? You are gonna rot in jail. Your sentence will be so long, your very bones will still serve it,” Harry hissed, bearing his grinding teeth. Malfoy smiled mischievously. “I want my lawyer.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows incredulously. “Pardon. What was that?” “You heard me, Potter. Lawyer me up!” He sniffled and looked away past Harry’s shoulder with a mocking expression. Harry chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “You are joking, right? You don’t have a lawyer, your lawyer is in prison!” Malfoy could have sworn there was a hint of pain in Potter's expression. “And so is your accountant, and your chauffeur. And you know who else is going to Azkaban, Malfoy? The long list of Associates you ever exchanged as much as a word with.”

[comediakaidanovsky]

christian and punk should do a thing it’ll be the ultimate daddy issues feud of all time

[themellowyellowmomma]

I've been sick for like two weeks now and it's bullshit. I'm almost better but that isn't good enough for me. I can't stand for long bits of time or walk much without getting out of breath because I also have asthma and I don't have an inhaler because the doctor covered by my insurance doesn't believe that I have asthma no matter how many other doctors tell them I do.

So we're sticking our head in the freezer tonight so that we can stay on our feet long enough to make arroz con gandules.

[boorista1992]

God a new pop socket.

[l1tw1ck]

Leon's New Tattoo

Bottom!FTM Leon x Top!AMAB Reader

☆ Word Count: 1,309 ☆

AFAB Language Used | [Breaking the Thermostat (Series)]

CW: Attempted Non-Con (Consensual Sex), Womb Fucking, Breeding, Lactation, Slight Cum Inflation

“You're doing so well, Leon.” You litter kisses along his torso. “You're such a good boy…”

Leon moans softly as he feels your cock inch further inside him. Almost there.

“Just a little more, baby.” You say softly, reaching for his hand. He quickly takes it and squeezes it, looking down at his bulging belly as your cock travels deep into his pussy. So close. So—

Leon gasps as he feels your cock hitting his cervix, causing him to jolt awake.

Leon soon realizes he was dreaming and frowns. If only it was real. Although he's never thought about getting his cervix penetrated. It sounds extremely painful and obviously impossible. But for some reason, he desires it now. Very, very strongly. He turns his head towards your bed and bites his lip.

The two of you have been sharing a motel room for a few days. You got paired up and needed to go out of town for a mission. It's now the night before you head back home.

“Captain…” He murmurs. It feels like he's on fire. His pussy is drenched, more so than normal. He's always liked you but it feels so much more intense tonight. He gets up from his bed and goes over to yours. If he wakes you up, would you be willing to give him what he wants? You're married. He’s convinced there's no way you would. If he were in his right mind, he'd go to the bathroom and take care of it himself. But he's not. Not in the slightest. It's not like masturbation would fix the problem anyways.

Leon practically rips his pajamas off then hops onto your bed. He quietly pulls back your covers and then your pants. He smiles at the outline of your cock in your underwear and then pulls it down, letting your length free. He drags his wet pussy along your cock to get you aroused. He notices that you're somehow growing even larger. He moves to sit on your thighs and licks his lips hungrily at the sight of your now hard cock.

“Captain…you're too big..” Leon hisses in pain.

“You can take it, baby, I know you can.” You kiss his cheek. “Just a little more.”

Leon looks up at you with a pained smile.

“Almost there…” You hit his cervix. Leon screams in pain. “Fuck..”

Leon looks up at you. “Keep going, Captain…” He says, his voice cracking. He wants it as much as you do.

You hit it again and again and—

You wake up moaning. You look at Leon in surprise. He’s equally shocked. “Leon?”

“Captain…” He looks away from you.

You notice he's naked and that…there's…has he always had a tattoo on his womb? And is it supposed to be glowing? You reach out and touch it, mesmerized. Leon twitches and moans in response. You keep touching it and Leon keeps reacting.

“Captain~!” Leon moans, squirting on your thighs and the hotel bed.

You need to fuck him. You need to force yourself into his womb and get him pregnant no matter what. You take Leon by his waist and slam him onto the bed. You can feel yourself getting hotter by the second but you pay it no mind. All you care about is getting inside him. You hurriedly sink your cock into him, his abnormal wetness allowing for an easier slide, and slam into his cervix.

“Oh~!” Leon cries out. Oddly enough, he doesn't feel much pain. He loves pain and it seems like it was dulled just enough to keep it at a pleasurable level. “Keep going!”

He doesn't have to tell you twice. You ram into him like an angry bull. The sound of your combined moans fill the room, likely leaking out into the hall and bothering the rest of the tenants. If anyone were to check either of your temperatures, you’d both be sent to the emergency room. The both of you are flushed and incredibly horny, neither of you have the ability to spare even a single thought for your conditions.

Leon throws his head back, his moan caught in his throat as you enter his womb. “Ah–” He manages to speak. “Captain~!”

“Leon–” You moan, burying your face in the crook of his neck. You take in his sweaty scent, strangely attracted to it in the same way a dog would be. His pussy feels so sloppy and tight, you keep hearing the squelches every time you thrust. It's like climbing stairs, every time you hear a beautiful sound from Leon or every time his pussy squeezes you, you go up a stair and get closer to your orgasm. “Gonna get you pregnant,” You suck on his neck.

Leon makes joyful noises in response. “Yes– I wanna have your babies, Daddy!”

You accidentally bite him, turned on by your new pet name. A spurt of cum enters Leon’s womb, and then more until it gets filled up practically half way. He reacts like he's been struck by lightning, twitching before freezing up and squirting.

Neither of you are tired yet.

“Not enough..” You mumble. Leon nods. “Not full enough.” You touch his tattoo, his cunt flexes weakly.

Leon looks at you with a face you swear is the most seductive and sexy expression you've ever seen on his face. You grab his legs and put him into a mating press, somehow reaching deeper inside his pussy. He grabs your shoulders and moans beautifully as you resume your rough thrusts. Your minds are fuzzy and you're both dizzy with lust, any reasonable thoughts have been thrown out the window. No matter what, you're gonna get him pregnant tonight.

“Ah- ah- mm- Daddy~!” He scratches your arms hard enough to make you bleed but you surprisingly don't feel any pain. “Fuck!”

“Leon!” You let out a guttural moan of pleasure as you manage to thrust even faster. His nails sink deeper into your skin. You grab one of his breasts and push it upwards. You lean in and start sucking on his nipple, your actions starting to become more desperate as you feel sweet tasting liquid inside your mouth. Leon mewls, squirting once again. You pant heavily as you continue climbing that flight of stairs.

“Just a little more, baby–” You bite your lip. He whimpers sweetly, not feeling overstimulated at all. Your movements become slower and lose their rhythm as you reach your orgasm. You moan his name as you now completely fill up his womb with your cum, his stomach getting slightly inflated.

The both of you collapse at the same time.

Leon’s eyes flutter open, a strong feeling of shock as he realizes he's cuddling with you with your soft cock inside of him. Memories from the night before come flooding into his mind, his face red with embarrassment. He slowly and skillfully moves away from you. He gasps at the amount of cum flowing out of him. He's definitely pregnant.

The tattoo is gone now. He touches his womb from the outside, no reaction.

“...Leon?” You wake up. He turns to look at you. “....Shit.”

“I don't know how to explain it..”

“Me neither. Did I hurt you?”

“No. I…” He looks away. “It was good…The only thing I regret is not doing it sober.”

“I feel the same way.”

He whips his head around. “You do?”

“I do. I’m in the process of getting divorced…if you want to wait…”

Leon nods quickly.

You smile then frown as you see your cum on the bed sheets. “You might be pregnant. I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

Leon presses his hand against his stomach. “I don't know yet..”

“That's okay.” You hold his hand. You have a feeling that regardless of the outcome, things will only get better from here.

[yandere-daydreams]

file #4: the body mod fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!wriothesley x reader (genshin).

length: 3.1k.

warnings: non/con touching + groping, nonconsensual piecing, dubiously consensual tattoos, permanent body modification, intimidation, needles, obsessive behavior, and unbalanced power dynamics.

“Just one?”

The question had been hushed, meek, directed more towards your lap than the man sitting across from you. The warden – Wriothesley, you chided yourself, biting the inside of your cheek and attempting to remember what he’d asked you to call him, Wriothesley – broke into a wry smile, but nodded, leaning back in his armchair. “Just one,” he reassured. “And you’ll taken care of until your release date.”

You didn’t respond, but he must’ve seen the way you paled at the suggestion. “Having second thoughts?”

“No, it’s just—” You grit your teeth. Your eyes flitted up momentarily, but fell back to your legs just as quickly. “I… I’ve never really liked needles, I guess.”

You could see his eyes light up, his grin broadening as he tried to stifle his laughter. You scowled, but couldn’t blame him. He was used to dealing with hardened criminals, the scum of Teyvat, thieves and spies and murderers, and here you were – on the verge of fainting because he asked you to get a tattoo. “I promise, you don’t have anything to worry about.” At least he was trying to sound comforting, even if it was clearly a half-hearted effort. “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands.”

And he had, in a way.

You just wished he would’ve mentioned that those hands would be his own.

Calloused fingertips dug into your bicep as a scarred palm pressed into your skin, keeping one of your arms loosely secured against the mattress of the cot while the other was pinned between the bedframe and his chest (the placement unintentional, or so you hoped). You’d been shaking when he brought out that terrible machine – a vial of dark ink trapped inside of a cage of copper and steel; a single, silver needle protruding out of one end and a leather grip wrapped around the other – but it’d only taken an hour for fear to fade into boredom, another for boredom to drag on into a rotting, discolored sort of exhaustion. For as much as you’d been dreading it, there was more pressure than pain. It was repetitive, if anything – a monotonous pierce, stab, pierce, stab that you could only try your best not to focus on. You could already feel an ache settling below the skin of your shoulder, already knew that you wouldn’t be able to lift your arm for days, but you tried not to—

His needle stabbed into the thin skin over your shoulder blade, and you couldn’t stop yourself – letting out a low hiss as you flinched into the cot’s thin mattress. You expected Wriothesley to laugh, to drag a damp cloth over the affected area and mutter something like ‘bear with me’ or ‘my bad, love, my bad’ like he had a dozen times before, but instead, there was a muffled click as he switched off his awful machine, a dull clatter as he dropped it onto a bedside table already crowded with bottles of disinfectant and the nurse’s bizarre tools. “We’ll stop here. It’ll take another session, but I think you’ve been through enough for one day. For a virgin, especially.”

You were only half-listening; the phantom of his machine still buzzing in your ears. “Are you sure?” You asked, trying to hide how desperate you were not to spend another night in the empty infirmary with a man you barely knew. “It’s not that bad, I can go for another—”

“I’m sure. Sit up, I’ll let you have a look.”

You pursed your lips, but didn’t protest. You could see how Wriothesley had gotten into such an authoritative position. The way he spoke, his constant undertone of stern stability – it was hard to so much as imagine talking back to him, let alone breaking one of the rules that’d been meticulously and painstakingly drilled into you when you’d arrived at the Fortress of Meropide a little under a week ago. Still, you’d been terrified – too scared to so much as speak to another prisoner for the first two days. You weren’t dangerous. You couldn’t hold your own in a fight, or protect yourself if someone else, someone stronger decided they had a problem with you. You could barely even call yourself a criminal, but apparently, the Iudex hadn’t agreed. You’d been on your way to the fortress before he could finish reading out your sentence, and now, you were trapped in the darkest, deepest place in all of Fontaine, alone and so, so painfully vulnerable. If it hadn’t been for Wriothesley, you probably would’ve requested to forgo your imprisonment entirely and be sent straight to the gallows.

A hand on your shoulder, a softened lull to his voice. “You can sit up, can’t you? I’ll have to call Sigewinne, if you’re in that much pain.”

“Right, I— uh, sorry,” You stammered as you shook your head and pushed yourself up, careful to keep the thick, overly starched cot sheet pressed to your chest. The infirmary was empty, the door locked and sealed, and while Wriothesley hadn’t seemed to think much of ordering you to take off your shirt and lay face-down, you couldn’t bring yourself to brush off the stark, damp chill that came with any amount of exposure in the fortress so easily. You guessed that, after enough time, you’d get used to it. You guessed that, when you did, the thought of not being so cold so constantly wouldn’t make you feel so sick. “I…  I think I’m still getting used to this,” you went on, with a strained smile. “Still a little out of it, I guess.”

“That’s alright, love. We all take a few months to find a way to cope.” When you glanced over your shoulder, there was already a mirror in his hand – a compact, small enough to fit in his palm. You had to crane your neck to see it, but Wriothesley knew how to strike the right angle, and soon enough, the sprawling, spiraling pattern stretching from the lower curve of your shoulder blade to the ball of your shoulder came into view. It took you a moment to make out the pattern, but relief accompanied the delayed realization. Lumidouce bells, all blossoming and linked together by a single vine. He’d finished the linework, and there was a smattering of color in the bottom corner – only, oh, he’d gotten the shade wrong. Rather than deep violet, he’d used a light blue, more similar to ice than the water nearly everything in Fontaine stole its palette from. Judging by his expression, though, all beaming pride and low-brewing mirth, he hadn’t caught the mistake. “What do you think? Don’t keep me in suspense, now.”

“It’s… nice,” you said, the sentiment sincere despite your hesitance. And then, laughing, “I was—Well, it feels a little silly now, but I was terrified you’d leave me with, I don’t know, a sea monster or a giant wolf or something.”

“Maybe next time. Not a wolf, though - you don’t strike me as that vicious.” You bit your tongue, forcing yourself not to tell him there wouldn’t be a next time and opting to focus on the soreness starting to knot in your shoulder, instead. You swung your legs over the side of the cot, moving towards where you’d left your shirt draped over an unopened crate, but Wriothesley caught your wrist, tugging you gently back onto the thin mattress. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his playfulness suddenly more irritating than it had been, a few second ago. “I don’t think we’re finished, yet.”

Not for the first time, your smile wavered. “I… I thought we only agreed to one, sir.”

“Of course.” He squeezed your wrist teasingly. “One of each.”

Something heavy and spiked dropped into the pit of your stomach. This time, you couldn’t help the way your expression dropped. “Sir, that’s really not what I—”

“It’ll be worse the longer you put it off.” You weren’t dangerous. You weren’t a criminal. You weren’t strong, but Wriothesley was. Before you could so much as push yourself to your feet, his arm was around your waist and he was perched on the edge of the cot, one leg tucked underneath him to make more room for your body, soon pulled between his thighs. The back of your shoulder screamed where it pressed into his chest, but you managed to swallow the little, pitiful sound threatening to bubble past your lips and clung to your sheet – suddenly so much thinner than it’d seemed, seconds prior. If Wriothesley noticed your apparent panic, the distress of his prisoners was an inconvenience he was willing to endure. Only half-consciously, you tried to shove yourself away from him, but his muscle-bound arm was snaked around your waist before you could gain any distance, keeping you flush against his broad chest. He was so much bigger than you’d realized, when he was on the other side of that desk, when he was engraving something intrusive and permanent into the very fabric of your being. This had been a bad idea. Trusting anyone here had been a bad idea. You should never have—

Your elbow slammed into his diaphragm, and Wriothesley let out a slow grunt, his fingers burrowing into the plush of your side. “Easy now, love,” he half-muttered, half-breathed, bowing his head to speak into the side of your throat. “We had a deal, remember? Can you tell me what it was?”

“You—you said I wouldn’t get hurt if—” You forced yourself to stop, to swallow, to breathe. “But, I only agreed to get one tattoo, and you—”

“I said I’d take care of you. Get you a nice, cushy job with the fortress administrator, keep you out of any over-crowded bunks, make sure the other prisoners don’t cause you any trouble – that kind of thing. I’m really not supposed to play favorites, so even doing that much is going to take more than a little discretion on my part.”

“But, you offered to—”

“I said I’d take care of you, and I’m going to.” You could see him fishing something off of the bedside table with his free hand, but you forced yourself not to look, not to make the ever-growing pit in your stomach feel that much more hollow. “You’ve heard a few stories about what it’s like in the underworld, right? I try to keep all of you nice n’ safe, but a few are bound to fall through the cracks. Rehabilitation can only do so much and—well, I’m sure you know all about how bloodthirsty desperation can make someone.” There was a pause, an ebbing lull to the tenderness in his voice. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, sweetheart. Are you going to help me get a little practice in, while I do that?”

Practice. If he wanted practice, you were sure there were another hundred prisoners who’d willingly lay down and let him carve a hole through whatever he wanted to. Still, you did your best to calm yourself down, to stop thrashing, to shut your eyes and try to ignore the large, pulsing thing you could feel pressing into your ass. You didn’t nod, didn’t give him permission, but when his fist balled around the infirmary sheet and tugged it away from you, the only resistance you managed to scrape up was a slight frown and a wary glance in his direction. “You’re already in for a rough night,” he explained, as if that was any excuse. “Might as well get the hardest one out of the way first, right?”

You refused to let yourself linger on the implication that this wasn’t going to be the last, too.

You clenched your eyes shut as his large hand pawed at the right side of your chest, kneading into the softened flesh with an almost delicate sort of care. “It’s easier after a little stimulation,” he murmured, as if that meant he had to spend so long circling your nipple with a calloused thumb, occasionally swiping over the sensitive bud in a way that made your thighs twitch and your face burn. When your nipple was stiff and pebbled, he pulled away, but it was a momentary reprieve – torn away from you with a splash of freezing disinfectant. It dripped down your chest and filled the stagnant air with a thick, chemical haze as Wriothesley caught your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching tightly. You felt the long, curved tip of his piercing needle against your skin, and braced yourself for the pain. Wriothesley wasn’t kind enough not to drag it out, though. “Wanna count me down?”

You shook your head, pushing yourself that much closer to his chest, desperate for any kind of stability. You’d hoped that Wriothesley would take your clear obstinance as a sign not to drag it out any longer, but he seemed to savor it – the agony of the wait, the way the dread seemed to multiply tenfold every time you forced yourself to suck in a ragged inhale. Seconds seemed to pass like frozen honey, only just beginning to drip. You’d started to think he wouldn’t do it, that he’d just laugh and admit this was all part of some bizarre, invasive hazing ritual when Wriothesley let out an airy chuckle and plunged his needle into you.

Oh, archons.

You really thought the tattoo would’ve been worse.

It was faster, at least; a bright shock of pain followed immediately by a steady, throbbing sort of ache that seemed to drown out every other sensation and fill your mind with a buzzing, numbing static. You didn’t realize your eyes had shot open on reflex until tears blurred your vision, until you glanced down just in time to watch as he dragged the needle through and replaced it with a small, silver stud – a barbell, as wrong as it felt to think of yourself having something so vulgar attached to you. You were crying unabashedly by the time he finished, pain and humiliation dripping down your cheeks in hot, wet streams, but Wriothesley’s shallow pool of sympathy must’ve run dry. “Ah, don’t make that face, sweetheart – we’re only halfway done.” You felt him panting into the crook of your neck as his hand found the other side of your chest. The last threads of his veil of composure frayed and broke apart as he groped unabashedly at your chest, toying with your nipple as your sobs echoed off of the clinic walls. You felt something thick and hot and wet crash against your collarbone and drip down the curve of your chest, and forced yourself to believe it was only disinfectant. That there was nothing it could’ve been except disinfectant.

Wriothesley’s hips rocked against your ass, the rigid outline of his cock pressing into you, incinerating any lingering delusions you might’ve had of helpful prison wardens exchanging one favor for another. Five fingers bit into the plush of your chest as he brought his needle to your unmutilated nipple, his hand surprisingly steady despite the airy, drawling moans he was pouring into your throat. “P-please don’t,” you managed, fighting to speak above the pathetic cries and choking fear doing their best to strangle out your voice. “Please, I can’t—I don’t want to—”

But, Wriothesley wasn’t listening. It wasn’t a spark, this time, but a red-hot knife, stabbed deep into your chest and twisted as far as it could go. You heard Wriothesley let out a rough groan, felt something warm and damp against your ass, and then, you were gone.

~

You startled awake hours later; bolting upright as you heaved in jolting, uneven inhales. Immediately, pain knocked you out of your panicked daze – sharp and piercing, imbedded into the back of your shoulder and either side of your chest, strong enough to remind you to measure out your breathing and calm down before you blindly threw yourself back into a seething pit of violent criminals. It took you a second to realize that you weren’t on an undersized infirmary cot, anymore, and another to piece together where he’d taken you – a bedroom nearly triple the size of your bunk. The warden’s chambers, you figured, as you scanned over the limited decoration and piles of dust-coated paperwork stacked onto every possible surface. Wriothesley’s room.

Wriothesley’s bed, at that. A cold chill ran down your spine as you realized that he’d taken the time to strip you out of your ill-fitting coveralls and redress you in a shirt sizes too big to be one of yours – the bleached, threadbare material a stark contrast to the satin sheets draped over your legs. You started to push them away and move towards the edge of the mattress, but froze as a door on the far side of the room creaked open – Wriothesley slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him. He moved away from it quickly, but as it closed, you could’ve sworn you heard the muffled, deafening click of a lock sliding into place and cutting you off from the rest of the world – or, the rest of the underworld, rather. As if there was anyone out there who would bother to save you, even if they could try.

“There’s my sleeping beauty.” He grinned as he lowered himself on the side of the bed, positioning himself closer to you than he absolutely had to. He reached out, moving to cup your face, but quickly let his hand fall back to his side when you flinched away. His smile dimmed, but didn’t fall away. “Get a chance to see the improvements, yet?”

After a second of hesitation, you shook your head, and he nodded to your chest - the gesture more of an order than a suggestion. Reluctantly, you pinched your collar between two fingers and peeled away from your skin. Through the narrow sliver, you could see his handiwork: a pair of twin rings hanging from either nipple, connected by a thin, lax, silver chain – so light, you could barely feel it brushing your diaphragm as the air caught in your chest.

You dropped the collar before you could give in to the nausea beginning to coil in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t bear to look at Wriothesley, so you kept your eyes on the sheets, kneading at the fabric half-consciously as you struggled to find your voice. “That wasn’t what we agreed to,” you muttered, mostly under your breath. “Can I go back to my bunk, now?”

His smile took on an almost apologetic note. You tried again. “Am I... Am I going to be able to leave?”

This time, when he reached out, flinching away wasn’t enough to stop him – his hand catching your chin and drawing you that much closer to him. You tried to lurch away, but it was too late, his lips were already crashing into yours, his tongue already slipping past your teeth and raking over your own. While your eyes widened in shock, his went half-lidded, closing just a second too late. Abruptly, it occurred to you that you’d never really noticed the color of his eyes – a pale, faded blue. The color of the half-formed flowers currently stretching across your back.

Wriothesley’s hand slipped to the nape of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut, and did your best not to think at all.

[sansaorgana]

— THE PROPHECY

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Fremen!Reader

SUMMARY — After failing to protect your tribe, its members leave you behind to die according to your customs. When Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen finds you, he immediately knows you are a daughter of the desert that was promised to him in the prophecy. Just like you were promised a man from the stars to come for you.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I changed the request a little and I hope it's fine – I just had this idea and I really wanted to write it but the request itself inspired it! 💛 By the way, this request was sent in April... 🙈 I am so ashamed of myself and it's not even the only request like that because I still have one left to write with Feyd... Please, do forgive me... 🙏🏻 I know nothing about Fremen customs and I didn't bother to Google them because I had this idea in my head and I liked it so I didn't want to change it either way. Therefore, keep in mind that I treat The Fremen culture pretty loosely here. Reader is a Princess (I don't think they have royalty at all in canon), she has ritual tattoos on her body (not as many as Lady Jessica but still) and she has blue eyes from the spice (which is not even mentioned I think 🤔) but other than that I did not describe anything about her looks.

WARNINGS — mentions of slavery, mentions of sexual activities including non/dub-con (no actual smut), mentions of suicide, Reader gets beaten up badly in the beginning by The Harkonnen soldiers

WORD COUNT — 4,200

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE PROPHECY

In other worlds, noble families had all the possible privileges alongside the burden of responsibilities. In other worlds, Princesses were spoiled and insufferable creatures who had all their whims and wishes fulfilled. But it was no other world – it was a cruel and harsh Arrakis. It was a hot desert filled with nothing but sand and spice and your tribe expected that your parents would help them to survive – no matter what price.

Everyone had the same duty to keep the rest alive – your father, your mother and even you, a simple Princess. The Fremen were not rich, therefore you were wearing the same clothes as everyone else. But even if you tried to blend in with the crowd, everyone would recognise you because of the ritual tattoos covering your skin. The noble blood was nothing but poison running through your veins – it was unwanted. Every failure was blamed upon you and you would drink the collected water as the last because your job was to make sure your tribe would live.

You had lost your mother first, even before the new Harkonnen invasion and the oppression of The Atreides. But your father died recently, in the very same ruins where your tribe left you to die in the ashes and heat before they attempted to run away. You were their Princess and your family had failed to protect them – the tough custom was to leave you behind and let the desert take care of you. It would either swallow you whole or you would prove yourself by digging yourself out.

But in this case – it was leaving you behind for The Harkonnens to find you and take care of you. It was worse than death in the desert. Perhaps their ways of murder were quicker and more sophisticated but they were unnatural. You were a Fremen and if you were to die, you wanted to do it by slowly decaying in the sand.

“Mercy… Mercy…” You begged quietly in Chakobsa language when they found out that the body laying amongst the ruins was still alive and breathing.

One of the Harkonnen soldiers pulled you up by your hair and you could see them all through hazy eyes, in their black uniforms covering their unhealthy pale white skin. 

“That bitch is alive,” one of them drawled out. “Are you going to talk?” He leaned in to ask you but you didn’t answer. You had no physical strength to answer him but also no spiritual motivation to keep going.

You were already prepared to die and you felt so indifferent that their punches and kicks did not bring you any pain at all. They dragged you by your hair and bruised your skin, they threatened you and cut you in a few places but with each drop of blood, you also felt your life leaking out of your body and what a sweet relief it was.

You were lying curled up on the ground and completely lost track of time. You could have been there for centuries, long hours or mere minutes only. You had absolutely no idea. You only waited for death to finally release you from this life and from the endless sands of Arrakis.

Your dream was to fly – fly away and see other worlds. See the worlds with greenery and water. To breathe in the fresh air and to be invisible in the crowd, to no longer be a Princess.

Or to simply disappear. That option was not so bad either. Everything was better than this life, certainly.

For now, they left you alone and proceeded to ruin the temple around you. And some part of you grieved this loss of your culture but the other part had no love for it anymore because you couldn’t care less at this point and because this world and these people had brought you nothing but pain and oppression. You loved and hated the Fremen equally.

Perhaps The Harkonnens had left you alone to regenerate before they’d start kicking and beating you again. Perhaps they would let you die in peace – that was doubtful, though. Perhaps they thought you were already dead but you were sure they did not because they were very committed to their art of killing.

When you heard heavy steps approaching you and their muffled voices explaining something to the man who had just arrived, you realised that they had been simply waiting for someone more important. And he was probably the one who would bring death to you. You tried to open your eyelids at least a little to see the face of your killer as you prayed quietly for a painless death even though you knew very well that no gods were listening to you. No gods would listen in a destroyed temple anyway. 

The gods were angry and their anger was always aimed at people like you – the noble Fremen who hadn’t managed to keep their people safe. You were doomed in this life and in the afterlife. There was no escape.

The man who had just walked inside the cave in which you were lying had an intriguing face because he was quite handsome for a Harkonnen. He had to be someone important, too, because his clothes were more elegant. He even had a cape attached to his stillsuit.

“Spy. Left behind,” one of his soldiers informed him and the man finally looked down and spotted you.

You bravely kept looking at him even though you knew already that painless death would be no option from his hands. You even straightened yourself up, slowly and gritting your teeth because you didn’t want to hiss out of pain and give them any satisfaction. Now, you were on your knees.

“No trace of the others,” the soldier explained.

“They’ve gone South to hide in the storms,” the new man commented and his voice made a shiver go down your spine and formed a knot in your stomach. There was something extremely eerie about him in a way that no ordinary Harkonnen could match. He was evil and twisted – even his voice was.

He was given a blade and he examined it as you were examining him, trying to figure him out even though it was pointless since it was the last minute of your life, most likely. Yet, stupid human brain always had to be kept entertained, always needed a distraction – even in a time like this.

“Send this message to The Baron,” the man commanded. “The North is liberated and secure. Harvest spice at will,” he looked back at you as if he was trying to mock you or tease you – so unaware how much you simply did not care anymore.

If it was up to you, you would blow up the whole planet. You would wipe Arrakis out of every galactic map.

“Yes, Na-Baron,” the man behind him bowed his head and then you realised that the demon in front of you was Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen himself.

It was quite ironic – he was of noble blood, too. Perhaps it would be an honour to be killed by him if you were a simple girl but you were not. Maybe it was a small mercy of the gods – a small, ironic smile. Yes, they would bring death now but at least your murderer was your equal and not a common Harkonnen scum.

Feyd-Rautha approached you slowly, clenching his jaw and your own sore muscles tensed, expecting another kick or a blow or things much, much worse. You just kept sitting there and looking up at him, too weak to even beg for mercy anymore.

And you didn’t want to either.

“She won’t talk,” another soldier of his told him and Feyd-Rautha tilted his head.

After a short while of silence, he crouched down in front of you and he tore a part of your stillsuit off of your body, revealing your arm and one side of your chest. You made no attempt to hide away from him or to yell for him to stop because you knew it would not help you in any way and it would only cost you even more of your dignity.

He smirked at the sight of your exposed body and stood up again.

“She is their Princess,” he pointed out loud. “Her marks give her away,” he added. “She is no spy. She was left to die as a punishment of her tribe.”

You were surprised how much he knew about your customs. Feyd-Rautha turned around to look at you again.

“I do not care about the Fremen traditions,” he informed you. “You will go with me,” he ordered.

You were too weak to move, of course. When two of his soldiers forced you to move up as they dragged you by your hair, you fell down on the ground. They kept forcing you up again and again, until you completely lost consciousness.

A man from the stars. 

You were a young girl again or perhaps you were a visitor in your old memory because you could see yourself sitting there, inside the dark cave deep under the temple with a Reverend Mother and a few other veiled Bene Gesserit women. A young girl with tears still in the corners of her eyes from the painful ritual of marking her body with the black ink. She had just become a Princess and she already knew it was a path of pain and sacrifice. Now, she had been tested with Gom Jabbar – another suffering filling this small body of a little girl. She hadn’t asked for any of this.

“A man from the stars,” the Reverend Mother said to her. A prophecy.

“What about him?” The girl asked, wiping her tears away with the palm of her hand, forgetting that they were sensitive now. The tears burnt her freshly-inked skin and she hissed. Bene Gesserit women smiled contemptuously. It was the Princess’ punishment for shedding tears and wasting water.

“He will come for you,” The Reverend Mother found her eyes through all the chains in her veil. Little girl felt a chill going down her spine at those words and she was not sure whether it was a promise or a threat.

She never told her parents about this prophecy and soon she forgot about it anyway. She grew up to be too big to believe in fairytales.

When you opened your eyes again, you gasped and sat up rapidly as the water splashed all around you. You looked down, terrified, and realised that you were naked inside a bathtub, surrounded by a few terrified maids who had moved away at the sight of you awakening.

“Wh-what is happening?” You asked them. Some of them were clearly Harkonnen with their white skin, big black eyes and bald heads. Some of them were Fremen slaves but they were not from your tribe because you couldn’t recognise any of them.

“Na-Baron asked us to clean you up and take care of your wounds, my Lady,” the Harkonnen maid informed you. She was not sure how to address you but you couldn’t care less about that. What shocked you the most was…

“Water!” You yelped and tried to get out of the bathtub although you were too weak to do so. “You are wasting water!”

“We have more than enough water here in the palace,” the Fremen slave woman told you and you calmed yourself down although you couldn’t help but feel angry about the injustice.

Of course they had water in the Arrakeen’s palace. The Harkonnens, The Atreides… People like them never suffered – even in a place like this.

You allowed the maids to go back to cleaning you up. When you were as fresh as never before, you couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror. Even your skin looked a shade paler because it was no longer stained with the sand. Your hair was shining and the skilled hands of one of the maids braided it before your wounds were patched up and your body was covered with a semi-transparent dress. It was very feminine and quite revealing and the colours were all hues of orange.

“Na-Baron wishes to see you now, my Lady,” one of the maids bowed her head at you and two other maids took you by your arms to help you walk down the corridor to join Feyd-Rautha since you were still too weak to walk.

He was sitting by the big table that was filled with so much food you had never seen in your life. The colourful fruit filled with juice and water made your mouth drool.

The maids let go of your arms to bow down in front of him. You did not bow down but he did not comment. He had his legs placed up there on the table’s surface and he smirked at you, beckoning you over with his finger.

“Come, Princess,” he mocked your title and you limped towards him. “Leave us,” he ordered the maids and they left the room with their heads kept low out of fear and respect.

You finally reached the table and you grasped the edge of it for support as you moved even closer to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. You were not scared of him because you were not scared of death anymore and his title did not intimidate you because you were of noble blood, too – even though in his eyes you had to be a dirty savage anyway.

His face fascinated you because it was so unnaturally beautiful in a way that no Harkonnen should be. But still, you kept staring at his face with nothing but pure hatred.

“You must be starving,” he pointed out at the chair nearby. “Treat yourself.”

“Thank you,” you drawled out through your gritted teeth and took the seat, too hungry to dismiss such an offer.

You were devouring a grapefruit, allowing its sticky juice to run down your chin when Feyd-Rautha put his legs back on the floor and leaned in over the table to take a closer look at you.

“What do they call you, Princess?” He asked in a low, raspy whisper. “Have my men hurt you badly?”

“(Y/N),” you answered and looked deep into his eyes, showing him that you were not scared of him. “I can handle that.”

“That is a pretty name for a strong woman,” he commented. “You will be my slave,” he said casually and leaned back on the chair.

You didn’t know what to say to this, really. You knew that protesting was foolish – you didn’t want to lose the opportunity to keep your stomach full and it was obvious from the beginning that he hadn’t brought you to the palace as a guest anyway. Still, it felt wrong to quietly accept such a fate.

“I am no maid,” you only said.

“Not like that,” Feyd-Rautha smirked. “Not a maid. A special slave,” he explained but you kept staring at him in silence, killing him with your gaze only. He found it amusing as he chuckled. “You know, Princess, you are a daughter of the desert,” he pointed his finger at you and you raised your eyebrow at him. “I was told by a Bene Gesserit witch that a daughter of the desert would give me a strong heir who shall inherit the Empire. The Harkonnen and Fremen bloodline could not be further apart and that is why mixed together they will create the most powerful species of men. An ultimate man,” Feyd-Rautha explained.

“You are the man from the stars,” you mumbled out, feeling weird with the fact that your prophecy had been true, after all.

Feyd-Rautha was taken aback by your question and he had no idea what it meant but you did not feel like explaining.

“You want me to be your whore. You want me to push out your heirs but they will not be any powerful, ultimate beings, Na-Baron. They will be pure chaos. That is the only thing that can ever come out of our bloodlines mixed together,” you pointed out harshly. “You poison my world, you oppress my people, you killed my family. And now you’re asking me to be your concubine.”

“I must have missed the part where I am asking,” Feyd-Rautha clenched his jaw. You were getting him angry and it was nearly funny how spoiled he was that he really had thought you would agree to such a proposition after such a past.

“Kill me,” you requested and put the grapefruit down. “Kill me because I will be no use to you. I will never be your whore and I would rather die than give birth to your sickly bastards.”

“Why are you loyal to the people who left you behind to rot in the sand?” He asked, tilting his head. He was no longer angry but simply curious.

“That is the custom,” you only answered.

Your relationship with your tribe and your world was of a difficult kind but Feyd-Rautha did not need to know about it. He was an intruder, an outsider, an oppressor. He didn’t deserve to know your heart.

“You can’t run away from your prophecy, Princess,” Feyd-Rautha reminded you before leaving the table and leaving you alone inside the room.

When he left, you went back to eating – as much as you could and as fast as you managed. You felt like an animal and a savage indeed but there was no one to witness that desperate act anyway and you could not remember the last time you had something in your mouth.

Feyd-Rautha did not bother you personally but the maids were following you around and even though you were given your own room with a beautiful view of the desert, you were never truly left alone. You had beautiful but pretty humiliating dresses to wear and you were given baths every day which felt like a profanity for a Fremen.

You were well fed but most of the time you were bored. You knew that Na-Baron was awaiting your answer. You just hadn’t been told how much time exactly you had to make a choice.

Choosing death was simple and easy. Choosing to be his slave-concubine meant betraying your people and betraying who you were, even though you had always felt like you did not fit in with the Fremen and you always wanted to leave Arrakis. It had been a distant dream, too foolish and impossible to even be mentioned to anyone. But now, it could be true. As Feyd-Rautha’s new pet that he seemed to already be pretty fond of, you would be able to visit other worlds.

Your prophecy had claimed, after all, that the man from the stars would come for you. His prophecy had claimed that the daughter of the desert would give him a powerful heir. If it was true and you would become a mother of the future Emperor – well, that was quite tempting, indeed. No matter the price.

Staring at the desert behind your window, you were hugging yourself and biting on your lower lip while you were spending your evening overthinking – it had been your only occupation lately.

You had a feeling that this evening Feyd-Rautha would join you because you were left alone by your maids which was unusual. And indeed, a few moments later the doors opened again and he walked inside. His steps were heavy and confident as usual. It would be your first conversation ever since the one after your arrival.

“My Princess,” he greeted you in that harsh voice of his as he stood behind you and put his hands on your arms in quite a gentle but still very possessive manner.

“I have not made my decision yet,” you only said.

“Decision?” Feyd-Rautha was surprised and then he laughed. “You do not get to choose. Do you think I would let you choose death when I know that your womb might give me an heir that has been promised to me in a prophecy?” He lowered his voice and his words sent a chill down your body. His lips were brushing your neck and earlobe and you tried to get away from his grip but he tightened it and you couldn’t do anything about it.

“I should have killed myself,” you drawled out through gritted teeth.

“I suspected you might do so, therefore I ordered the maids to invade your privacy all day and night, my Princess,” he smirked. You could feel his lips curling on your skin.

“I’m going to kill every child you put inside of me,” you threatened.

“You can try,” he kept smirking but his grasp tightened even further.

“I will not be your slave,” you protested and kept shaking your head even though you knew it was pointless.

“Concubine,” Feyd-Rautha tried to convince you as if he really cared for the transaction to go pretty smoothly. And, apparently, he was in a mood to bargain. 

“Wife,” you spat out and a long silence occurred. His grip loosened and he took a step back, eyeing you up and down as he let out a deep laugh. You turned your head around to look at him. “I won’t push out bastards,” you stated.

“I have no desire for a wife,” Na-Baron dismissed you.

“And I have no desire for a husband but that is the only way I see it working,” you explained. “Of course you don’t need my permission to do anything with me. You might use me, imprison me to make sure I won’t get rid of your spawn and then you can kill me. But I am not as weak as you think of me, I am a daughter of the desert. I will change your life into hell and I will make you regret every hour, every day until I eventually die but believe me, I will make this time pass by very slowly,” you threatened.

“And why would I want to marry such a woman?”

“Because I have not described a wife. I have described a slave,” you explained. “Do you wish to know what kind of wife I would be?” You raised your eyebrow and took a step further towards him. He seemed to be intrigued as he tilted his head and you smirked to yourself. It seemed to be working – your plan to tempt him and convince him.

You had to secure your future and your position and since he was your oppressor, you felt no guilt about using manipulation to get there.

“You might think of me as lower than you but I am a Princess just like you are a Na-Baron and only our customs differ. Imagine taking me back to your world, your exotic war prize from Arrakis. You can dress me up in those pretty dresses and show me off, swollen with your special heir. I am a savage to the outsiders but couldn’t you turn the tables and make it an advantage? Your wild, savage wife that nobody knows anything about and who everyone fears?” You whispered, seductively.

“I know what you're doing,” Feyd-Rautha breathed out but even though he was aware of you trying to manipulate him, he was visibly giving in anyway. “You’re going to kill me in my sleep,” he added, looking intensely into your eyes and you chuckled at that.

“Perhaps,” you shrugged your arms. “But isn’t the prophecy worth the risk?” You asked.

After all, you were sacrificing and risking a lot, too. And it would be only fair if the transaction costed you both the equal amount.

“You are the jewel of Arrakis,” Feyd-Rautha chuckled and raised his hand to undo your braids and watch your hair let loose.

“And you are its poison,” you remarked as he smirked, eyeing you up and down.

“Together, we can rule over the worlds,” he whispered.

“Or destroy them,” you added.

Na-Baron shook his head but the smirk remained on his lips. He found it amusing that you had an answer for everything and how gloomy they all were. However, so far, it was entertaining for him. He brushed your collarbone with his fingertips.

“I surely have more experience in destroying them than I have in ruling over them,” he confessed but the hunger in his eyes was a clear message to you that he did not mean only Arrakis but also women overall.

“Some are too wild to be ruled over and too wild to be destroyed,” you informed him and he found your eyes again after staring at your chest and neck. For the first time, you saw that he was genuinely intrigued. Perhaps he finally saw you as a challenge. A riddle. A savage to tame.

Whatever would keep you alive and in a position of power.

Because no matter how much you were trying to convince yourself that you were ready to die, this life stubbornly seemed to keep you alive and there must have been a purpose in it.

Therefore, you were ready to receive everything this new life had to offer for you now. As if you had died in that temple and now you were given a second chance.

MASTERLIST

[hoejosatoru]

A quick lil Hantengu/Karaku pussy eating smut bc I need him bad 🧍🏻‍♀️(you could apply this to any of the clones tbh you do you)

Warnings: pussy eating, degradation, not non con but reader is a little scared at first, squirting,a demon is eating your pussy idk what else to tell you. This might be the nasty pussy eating fic I’ve ever written MDNI

You knew the second you saw a humanoid shape moving in the shadows you were fucked. Taking this short cut home through woods had always been a risk and your luck had run out. You knew it was demon before he even stepped out into the moonlight by the ways the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

“Well, what do we have here?” A sickly sweet voice asked. The demon stepped out from the shadows, tall, muscular and horned. You’d never seen a demon before in real life. You weren’t a slayer, just another villager. There was instinctually fear in having this predator before you, but something else just below the surface. He was… alluring. Handsome when he should be grotesque. You felt sick in the head for thinking so.

The demon was suddenly before you, stunning you with his speed. “You’re a shy thing, are you?” He was walked around your body, sizing you up. Your hear hammered in your chest. He licked his lips. “The pretty ones always are.”

When you looked in his eyes, your blood went cold. His pupils read “upper rank 4.” Even with you limited knowledge of demons, you knew an upper rank was the most dangerous of them all. Your body shook with fear. “Please don’t hurt me,” you blurted out helplessly.

Surprisingly, he chuckled. “Who said I wanted to hurt you?” You flinched slight as he ran a finger along your cheek. “Pretty thing like you would be a waste to kill.” He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear. “Besides, I’m hungry for something else tonight.”

Your body shivered, though for an entirely different reason. It felt so wrong to respond to a demon in this way. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

In a flash you were on the ground, the demon on top of you. “P-please don’t!” You cried. You weren’t sure what he wanted to do to you, though the look in his eyes gave you a hint.

“Told you I’m not gonna hurt you,” he kicked a stripe up your neck, making you gasp. His hands were pinning down your wrist to stop you from squirming - though you weren’t putting up much of a fight. “I’m going to make you feel good. Pleasure you.”

He stuck his tongue out again and you caught a glimpse of the kanji for “pleasure” tattooed on it. Heat pooled between your legs at the sinful sight. “B-but you’re a demon. It’s wrong.” You stumbled over your words as he sucked at your neck, right over your jugular.

He let out a dry laugh. “Don’t act like you’re not aroused, I can smell it from here.” Your face went bright red, which only made him laugh more. “You humans, so virtuous.” His hands were between your legs, rubbing at your throbbing core over your underwear. “I’m going to devour you.”

You gasped as he ripped your underwear off, exposing your pussy to the his eyes and the cold night air. He was no longer holding you down but you did run from him. Not just because it was pointless, but because, fuck, your pussy was aching and you wanted him to fix it. You were sick with shame and desire.

“My name is Karaku,” the demon said, slotting himself between your legs, “I want to hear you scream it when you cum on my tongue.” You bit your lip, watching him with anxious anticipation. He licked a stripe up your pussy, letting your arousal coat his tongue. “Mmm, fucking soaked. And all for a demon? You’re not as innocent as you act.”

He did just a he said: he devoured you. His mouth moved against with speed and force that you didn’t even know was possible. Well, maybe it wasn’t for human men, but for him it was. He sucked hard on your clit, before grazing his teeth over it, loving how your whole body jumped.

Karaku pressed his tongue into your tight, sopping pussy. He wriggled his tongue inside you and it was the most sinful and pleasurable thing you ever felt. “Fuck,” you whined as he pulled away. He watched your pussy clench around nothing, driving him wild.

“Pussy fucking begging for me. What a dirty girl you are,” he purred. His hands dug into your plush thigh to keep you spread open for him. His nails threatening to cut your skin.

His mouth returned to your wet heat, though less intensely. He wanted to drag it out, to tease you. He circled his tongue around your hole, never dipped in like he knew you wanted. He switched between teasing your hole and sucking on your click, turning you into a whimpering miss.

“Please!” You cried, your need damn near painful. Your whole body was pulsing for him, you didn’t even care how wrong it was. The demon just laughed at you. You were desire over-rid your fear. You went to grip his hair, but your hands wrapped around the solid horns on his forehead instead. You used the grip as leverage grinding into his face.

Karaku let out a deep, feral moan. “Look at you fucking my face. A demons face. You’re sick for wanting me. Nasty fuckin’ slut,” his words were so dirty, but laced with desire. It only made you more desperate for release.

Karaku could easily have stopped you from fucking his face, but he didn’t want to. He loved being buried in your pussy, his tongue fucking you, tasting you. You were sweeter than most humans.

“Karaku,” you whimpered as you bucked your hips against his face. Your were so close; each time his nose nudged your clit pleasure pulsed through you.

“That’s it. Cum on my fucking tongue,” he demanded. He pressed his tongue impossibly deeper into you.

“Karaku fuck!” You cried out as the coil in your stomach snapped. The pleasure you felt was white-hot, more intense than anything you’d ever felt. You squirmed and moaned as he licked you through your orgasm. You were gasping, tearing in your eyes. It was so good it almost hurt.

His tongue flicked relentlessly over your overly sensitive clit. Suddenly your body shuddered, overcome by another wave of ecstasy as you squirted all over his face.

“Oh, fuck you’re dirty,” karaku purred, lapping up every last bit of your release. He finally pulled away, his face glistening with your release in the moonlight. As you caught your breath and came down from your high, fear and shame crept back in. What did you just do?

You tried to scramble away, but Karaku grabbed you by the ankle, pulling you back to him. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere. I’m taking you back to my brothers and we are going to have some fun.”

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon II — Mates

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II — You are here] [Part III] [Part IV]

Neuvillette brings you to your new “home”, which also comes with new challenges.

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, forced imprisonment, Neuvillette accidentally goes a little feral here, brief non-con at the end

One of the first things Neuvillette did was move you from the apartment at the Palais Mermonia (your prison for the past four centuries) to his personal residence. Securing his palms to your waist, he teleported you directly into the foyer of the massive home.

The interior was splashed with blues and whites that matched the Chief Justice’s own color palette. The upper walls were decorated with friezes depicting various marine creatures, from floating otters (how ironic) to bobbing seahorses. A grand spiral staircase led to the upper floor, while a set of double French doors connected the foyer to a massive living room adorned with plush love seats and armchairs, tasteful artwork of Fontainian landscapes, and enormous windows that overlooked the sea. It appeared the house was set into a cliffside, with the waves battering the rocks far beneath you.

You paced into the living room, running your hand along the blue silk couch cushions. To your left, a door led out to what appeared to be an inclosed courtyard with a miniature fountain. To the right was a closed door, a familiar dragon carved into its exterior. Your arm burned in resonance.

Though you were loathe to admit it, the place was beautiful.

“Do you like it?”

Shifting your gaze to him, it was clear that Neuvillette was desperate for your approval. Ever since he let you outside to discover the true length of your imprisonment, you had rarely spoken a word to him. Clearly, your silence had done a number on him, as the normally composed man was fidgeting nervously.

When you kept quiet, Neuvillette cleared his throat. “I admit, part of why things took so long was due to my insistence that everything be perfect for your arrival. I rearranged our bedroom perhaps a dozen times, and I couldn’t for the life of me decide what your personal room should entail.” When you glanced out towards the fountain, he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, that was a…sentimental addition. It makes me think of how we met.”

You’d never forget that Archons-damned fountain. If only you hadn’t been so naive. Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, go away.

Neuvillette extended his palm towards you in what appeared to be both a peace offering and an order. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Suddenly your feet appeared very interesting. What were you supposed to say? This technically was your home now, like it or not. You’d become painstakingly familiar with it with time. Although you weren’t imprisoned within the Palais as before, your new life still promised shackles nonetheless.

“Could you just show me my personal room?” You sighed. “I’d prefer to just rest after that.”

Neuvillette smiled softly, relishing the sound of your voice. “Of course.”

Twisting his fingers through your own, he led you towards the dragon door. Once again, your hidden tattoo pulsed with energy. It felt like a pull forward, a welcoming embrace. You realized then that there must be some sort of warding spell on this room, likely meaning only you and your captor could enter.

Marvelous.

Pushing the door open, Neuvillette swept his arm gracefully through the entrance. “After you, my love.”

You stepped in and immediately went still.

For in every direction around you was rows upon shelves upon stories of books.

Neuvillette had build you your own personal library.

And not just that. You noticed that entire sections pertained to your personal interests—marine biology, photography, even your personal favorite genres of novels. A separate door labeled Dark Room promised an avenue for you to pick up photography again. Similar couches and chairs as the living room were arranged around a huge coffee table, and a cracking hearth added to the cozy atmosphere.

Your throat bobbed. You had always dreamed of owning a room like this, a place where all your passions converged. But to have it under these circumstances…you didn’t know how to react, torn between frustration and a grateful little voice in the back of your head that you buried at once. No, I didn’t earn this. I don’t want this. It was forced on me.

All you could choke out was, “This is…mine?”

“Down to the last book.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “I spent the most time on this room. Over a century to get it right.”

You startled. A century? Your heart stumbled, but your hands fisted by your sides. So much given, yet what had it cost you?

Shaking your head, you simply said, “I’d like to be alone.” Connecting your eyes with his, you could see his hurt, the expectation of a grand reaction on your part that you refused to indulge.

However, the look was quickly wiped from his face, for he must have seen something broken in your facade. A muscle in his jaw feathered as he approached you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. “I understand you must be overwhelmed. I’ll leave you to explore,” Neuvillette said, placing a kiss on your forehead before heading for the exit.

“Neuvillette?”

Said man turned back towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Why me?” You grabbed your arm where the shadow of your draconic tattoo hid. “Why…all this?”

His gaze immediately softened. “My dear, we have centuries for me to show you.”

~*~

It was times when Neuvillette was vulnerable that it was hardest to hate him.

He had returned home after a long day at court to find you sitting in the courtyard on the edge of the fountain, peering up at the night sky as if the stars held some answers. Moonlight bathed you in an ethereal glow, and if he didn’t already think you a goddess, he would have pledged himself to you then and there.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too involved in your own thoughts. True to his word, Neuvillette had given you time and space to enjoy your new (cage) home. You had to admit, it was a major upgrade from the Palais, and you knew the Iudex would continue to let you explore Fontaine, if you tolerated his presence beside you. However, you knew this dance wouldn’t last—it was only a matter of time before Neuvillette expected something in return. It was abundantly clear that he desired your affections, but how far would he go in order to sway you? To fully make you his?

A sea breeze whipped around you, eliciting an involuntary shiver to rip up your spine.

A sudden warmth enveloping your form brought you back to reality. Blinking in surprise, you peered up to see the Chief Justice smiling softly at you, his purple irises sparking with longing and care. His elaborate attire was gone, leaving only his pale undershirt.

He’d given you this coat.

“I…thank you,” you mumbled, averting your eyes from the man.

“Do my ears deceive me? Did my dear (Y/n) actually acknowledge me?”

Your grip on his robes tightened. “Don’t mistake my words for kindness. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

A sigh. “Despite what you may believe, I’m not a monster.”

You deadpanned. “You’re quite literally the Hydro dragon.”

“Archons above,” Neuvillette whispered, glancing up at the sky as if it held the key to winning your heart. “I was referring to a monster in the definition you humans use.”

“What? You mean like a man who would kidnap and imprison an innocent person—”

“Considering you are not in the Fortress of Meropide, I’d hardly consider this imprisonment.”

“What, have I offended you?” A scoff left escaped you. “If you want to play house, at least own up to your actions. Don’t pretend you’re some sort of gentleman.”

Neuvillette was silent for a beat, his mouth a thin line. Unexpectedly, his muscles relaxed as he released his tension. He lowered his large frame, taking a seat next to you. “You’re right.”

You sketched a brow in surprise.

Neuvillette trained his eyes on his palms, facing upwards in his lap. “I understand neither what it means to be human, nor what it means to be a god. I was given this duty to protect and uphold the laws of Fontaine, and yet I cannot save those who need it most.” His fingers formed fists, and his lids closed solemnly. “Carole, Vautrin…all of the others I have failed…”

You worried your lower lip. Although he had already informed you of his friends’ fate in your absence, it was still a raw wound for the both of you. Yet the anguish in Neuvillette’s eyes twisted your heart. How could a man be so duplicitous, so capable of both justice and blind obsession?

As if sensing your conflict, Neuvillette gently took your face in his hands, tilting your chin so that your eyes locked once again. His eyes danced with silver sparks of emotion, like cracks of lighting across a dark sea. A thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“So if I can protect but one thing, one person, I will do it.”

~.~

You often noticed that Neuvillette’s horns got stuck in his robes.

Honestly, it was kind of humorous. In the beginning, watching him struggle gave you a sick sense of satisfaction. You’d take any circumstance that inconvenienced him, however petty that might be.

But today, seeing the Chief Justice pouring over a case regarding the protection of Fontaine’s sea life at an ungodly hour, head propped on a fist to keep him awake, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic when he emitted a low hiss as his horns tangled into the ornamentation of his attire once again. “Damned human attire,” he cursed.

Neuvillette wasn’t an inherently bad man. In fact, your own case aside, he had invoked significant and positive change in Fontaine’s legal system. He judged cases fairly and prudently, working himself ragged each day to ensure the nation’s safety. It would have been admirable to you in any other circumstance.

You didn’t know what possessed you when you stepped behind him and carefully untangled his twin blue horns.

At your touch, Neuvillette immediately froze. His heart rate skyrocketed and his mind went blank because you were touching him.

And not just anywhere, but his horns. Unbeknownst to you, a dragon’s horns were the most sensitive part of its body, only to be handled by itself or its mate. One brush was akin to a lovers embrace, the whisper of a kiss, the hot breath shared between partners in the thralls of passion. Not only was the touch intensely intimate, it was also an acknowledgement—an acceptance of the male’s advances onto his partner.

Oh, if only you knew how many times he had fantasized about this, your acknowledgement of him and his love for you. Although his rational, human side knew your touch as unintentional, the dragon within Neuvillette reared and roared against his skin, demanding to be set free upon its mate.

“Your horns were caught,” was all you said as you settled back into the sofa, flipping to the marked page of your novel.

If you had looked up, you would have witnessed the Iudex gently touching his horns in awe. He swore he could still feel the brush of your palm against him, shivering delightfully at the mere memory of your touch.

Little did you know that your simple act of kindness would unleash the storm.

~*~

The one unfortunate deviation of your current accommodations from the Palais Mermonia was Neuvillette’s unyielding insistence on sharing a bed.

You had foolishly thought escaping him, even if just within the confines of your shared home, would be simple. You believed the library, what he even referred to as your room, would be your bedroom as well. Despite the lack of an actual bed, the plush couches and ever-lit fire provided more than enough comfort to lull you to sleep.

But when you had opened your eyes, you were mere inches away from Neuvillette’s shirtless, sleeping form.

You had assumed it was due to the draconic symbol guarding the room; perhaps it linked you to him more than you had thought. So, the next night, you decided to sleep in the parlor instead.

Only for your hopes to be shattered the next morning when you awoke not only in bed with your captor, but with your limbs entwined.

Anger, shame, and a touch of something you couldn’t quite place—something not entirely unpleasant—flooded you as you tore yourself out of his embrace. How was he doing this? Was it magic, or would he physically carry you to bed each night?

This pattern repeated itself. You would pick various places around the huge house to retire for the night. However, you would wake up in bed next to Neuvillette each morning without fail.

You had even reverted to your previous stubbornness and slept on the ground a few nights, but to no avail. It seemed you were bound to his bed.

Tonight, you decided to face the issue head-on. You stormed up the stairway and into the spacious bedroom, ignoring the pain in your lower back due to all the errant surfaces you had tried to sleep on. The downy pillows and lush, cream comforter practically begged you to surrender to the king-sized bed and its occupant.

Instead, you halted at the foot of the bed and crossed your arms. “You have to stop this.”

Neuvillette immediately looked up from the tome in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. He hadn’t yet changed out of his white dress shirt, and the buttons revealed a hint of his toned chest as he set the book down. “And what exactly are you demanding I stop?”

You huffed a laugh. “I wish I could say all of this,” you waved your hands around, as if that would convey the entirety of the situation, “but I mean putting me in your bed each morning.”

“Our bed,” he corrected, as if that were the issue.

“No, your bed. Are you really telling me that with all this space, you can’t just let me sleep alone?”

He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them on the nightstand. “I could, but I don’t want to.”

You seethed. “Well, I do.”

Neuvillette’s violet gaze pinned you with something like hurt. “Have I truly done something to upset you? It seemed as if you were settling into our new home quite nicely. Our conversation and touches were…” His throat bobbed. “Pleasant.”

You narrowed your eyes and bit out, “Don’t take any of that as complacency. You’re still a monster.”

Neuvillette flinched in response and, for just a moment, you felt a piece your heart falter. That is, until he whispered, “Mates don’t sleep apart.”

The room went utterly still.

Your voice came out as a breath of air, but the words were clear: “I am not your mate.”

It was then that you noticed the claws emerging from his fingertips, piercing into the sheets under his form. His eyes flashed silver, dangerous as knives. You could have sworn you saw a pair of elongated canines as he grit his teeth. “You have no idea how difficult it has been,” he breathed, voice tight, desperate.

On instinct, you took a pace back. You suddenly felt like a cornered animal, unable to avert your gaze from those claws that looked ready to tear into you. Clearly you had misjudged the situation—the Hydro Dragon was a starved, deadly predator, and you were practically served on a silver platter as its next meal.

Icy panic raced through your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, so out of control and inhuman. Trying to mediate the situation, you put your hands up in surrender. “Neuvillette, listen to me. Just calm down.”

You had hoped that saying his name would do just that, but it seemed to only rile him up further. The Chief Justice of Fontaine actually growled in response. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea. “You deny your mate, and now you’re telling me to simply calm down?”

Another step back. Just put out the fire and deal with the consequences later. “I apologize for being confrontational. I think it’s best if I just go—”

Before you could react, Neuvillette pounced forward and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you onto the bed. You released a cry and tried to scramble away, but he spun you around and pinned your back against the mattress with his muscular frame. He loomed above you on all fours, his hands gripping your arms and applying just enough pressure to hold you still without hurting you. The glint in his eyes, however, promised pain that was yet to come. You were the prey about to get its throat torn out.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You struggled, heart skyrocketing at the feel of his arousal pressing against your core.

"Something I’ve needed to do for four hundred years," he growled huskily, his breath fanning your lips moments before they slammed against yours.

The kiss was hungry, predatory. Obsessive. You could feel the release of each year, each century, as his mouth devoured yours. You arched your back in an attempt to get away, but Neuvillette was quicker. He lifted your form easily and slammed your back against the bed once again. At your gasp of shock, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You fumbled around for something, anything that you could take purchase of. Your arms were pinned, but you were just barely able to grab onto the first thing and tug: his horns.

Neuvillette moaned, a deep, throaty sound that sent heat flooding through you.

It was in that moment you realized your mistake. You recalled how some marine animals with horns had millions of nerves within them, making these appendages a source of sensory stimulation. When you had started adjusting his horns after they were getting stuck, it must have been like touching his—

Oh, fuck.

Neuvillette released you arms, grinding against your thigh. “Do that again,” he begged, though it came out as more of a growled order.

“Neuvillette, stop—” An involuntary whine escaped your lips.

Your lewd noises only instigated him. His movements became more erratic as he slid a clawed hand up your leg and to your core, which was protected by only a nightgown. You jerked as his finger pinched your clit, eliciting another whine.

Neuvillette’s eyes sparked with heat, dual purple flames that devoured your form. “That’s it, my dear. Let me take care of you.” He bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out. He was marking you before he took you fully.

“Tonight, you become more than my wife. You become my mate.”

~*~

You laid there limply in Neuvillette’s arms. He peppered you with kisses and whispered words of protecting you and lofty dreams of your future together, but it fell on deaf ears. None of it made you forget about the bites along your neck or your throbbing core.

You couldn’t believe you had let his kindness fool you for even a second.

You had to escape this prison.

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or Die part 2🖤

Part 1

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mdni, smut, non con so rape, violence, obsession, drugging, face-slapping and nose bleeding, choking, kidnapping, mention of murder. If you feel triggered by any of these warnings - just scroll past!

A/n: this took me way longer than I expected but yay, I finally wrote the second part!!! Also absolutely not me incorporating a quote from the movie bc I think it’s impossibly hot🤭

Reading part 1 is recommended for understanding the plot

Your life will never be the same. That damned evening changed you, everything around you, splitting your life into before and after.

Your memories of next few days after the murder were a sheer blur of events and conversations - numerous interrogations with police officers and detectives, psychologists trying to soothe you out of your stupor still, your mother crying her eyes out at the sight of you right after police arrived at the place of Paul’s death. And, of course, nasty journalists trailing behind you, watching your every move, invading your personal space unapologetically.

Of course, you were quite a catch - the first and only one who ever survived a meeting with König. Everyone wanted to know what he looked like - any particular details, scars or tattoos, a fucking skin colour - anything you could remember would be of huge use, giving at least any clues to a dead unmoving case. But there was very little you could help with - König took great care of covering every centimetre of his skin in black clothing, his voice changed, he smelled of nothing but earth and sickening metal of your boyfriend’s blood. Bastard was even smart enough to not cum inside nor anywhere actually, so that police couldn’t get his DNA samples.

A few months had passed since that horrific attack and there were still no traces of König.

It was midday when your parents had to leave to attend your grandma’s birthday - your mother was reluctant, not wanting to leave you all alone. You were never alone actually - a few police cars always patrolled right outside of your house, not allowing even postmen to get too close to your family’s property. It took a lot of reassuring and encouragement from your side to get your mother off your back, convincing her that you’ll be just fine by yourself and that you want your parents to have some fun. She then gave up with a deep sight, promising to be back in only a few hour’s matter.

You heaved a heavy sigh, closing and locking the front door after waving your parents goodbye, heading to the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. A pile of dirty dishes stacked in a sink caught your eye, the sight of its ugly mess on otherwise clean and tidy kitchen caused an itch somewhere deep in your brain. Without second thought you rolled up your sleeves, pouring dish soap onto the sponge and foaming it up.

As you were halfway through the dishes loud trilling of your landline phone calling startled you, causing you to jump on your spot. Your head whipped around, looking into direction from which the sound came. Wiping your wet hands on the kitchen towel you grabbed the phone, tucking it in between your ear and shoulder after accepting the incoming call.

- Hello? - you said, coming back to the sink, swiping foamy sponge over another plate, cleaning it of any grease and leftover bits of food.

- Hello! Um, can I speak to Paul? - your movements halted abruptly. You stood there silently for a long while, muscles stiff and unmoving, eyes staring blankly at some invisible point in the space before you.

- Excuse me, are you still here? Do I have the wrong number? - the man on the other end of the line said, his voice sounding concerned. It seemed to bring you out of your stupor as you drew in a long breath, exhaling noisily.

- Um, can I ask you how you got this number? - you said, already sensing something weird about this whole situation. But cops were all around your place, there was nothing to be worried about, right?

- Paul gave it to me himself. Said to call here if I needed to reach out to him, - man explained. That was strange but not unexplainable - Paul often hang out at your house, you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew your home phone number better than his own. - So am I calling right?

- Oh, yeah, sorry it’s just… Paul’s dead, - you said, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, sweet metallic taste coating your buds, but you couldn’t care less, nibbling deeper into small wound, feeling of slight pain grounding you successfully.

- Oh god, what happened? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. But who am I speaking to then? - the man said, his voice now sounding genuine and apologetic. Everyone around Y/n suddenly sounded genuinely and apologetic. She heaved another sigh, resuming her scrubbing on the plates.

- He was murdered. And I’m his girlfriend, - you said in a calm tone, free of any emotion or feeling. Paul’s death was pretty much the only thing you talked about with others - police, detectives, police again, his parents and friends, your parents and friends. It seemed like such a sensitive topic turned into a rough callous way too quickly. - Well, I was his girlfriend, - Y/n mumbled after a short pause, faint clatter of porcelain audible in the background.

- Sorry about your boyfriend, - man on the line said. There was a brief moment before he added: - all those muscles didn’t help much, did they?

You froze. Silence settled in, interrupted only by occasional electric noise humming through the speaker. You heard your own pulse humping rapidly in your ears, your breathing fast and shallow, all muscles in your body tensing in alarm, straightening your back. Your eyes shoot up, looking out of the window above the sink. There were a few trees growing shallowly - barely an orchard - separating your house from your neighbours. No one was there.

- What’s that, sweet girl? You can’t see me? - a voice taunted, erupting herds of goosebumps running down your spine. - What a shame, I can see you clear as day.

- Neighbourhood is packed full with cops, you sick son of a bitch. If you only fucking dare coming anywhere close to my ho-

- Now-now, Y/n, - slasher interrupted you unapologetically, his voice hard and cold, causing thin hairs on your arms to rise. - Control your fucking language when you speak to me.

Your eyes dropped down onto the sink, fluffy dish soap foam was sparkling, playing with all the rainbow colors under the sun rays pouring in through the window. You clasped the phone in your non dominant hand, your dominant one reaching out and grabbing a kitchen knife from the drying rack, handle still wet and a bit slippery in your grasp.

- My, my, a dangerous thing that you’re holding. Be careful and don’t cut yourself, dearie, - König taunted, making your teeth clench. All blood drained out of your face, making you as pale as paper. Your eyes were fixated upon your window, peering into the orchard, desperately trying to spot any movement.

- What are you planning on doing? Everyone will hear if I scream. And cops will get your ass into prison, right where it belongs, - you spat out, pushing off the counter; your eyes ran all around the kitchen, looking for your cell phone with detective’s number saved, trying to keep the current call going so it’ll be possible to track it down.

- Oh will they? Then you better not scream, silly, - König snorted, making your blood boil. You were frightened still, terrified even; but the remorse of what he did to you, to Paul, was fuelling into your spite, making you a tad bit braver.

Failing to find your phone you entered the living room, rummaging through cushions and blankets piled on the couch, failing to find the stupid thing.

- Looks like you lost something. What’s up sweetheart? - you threw soft cushion back on the couch violently, huffing in annoyance upon not finding what you were looking for. You straightened and turned around to head to your bedroom, stoping in the middle of your tracks, freezing to the spot.

In the doorway leading to the hall stood König - dressed in all black, with heavy leather boots and his huge dagger strapped firmly to his thigh with a sheath, white scream mask staring right back at you. One large hand was pressing the phone to his ear, the other one was holding up your cellphone - the exact one you were looking for.

- You looking for this? - he asked, his own voice reverberating on the line because of your proximity.

You threw the phone to the side clutching onto the knife tightly. You dashed to the kitchen - there was a back door you could slip through - and outside was filled with neighbours and cops. Just pathetic six or so meters. Just a bit…

A scream tearing through your throat was muffled by a huge hand clamping against your mouth, the other one squeezing your wrist so tightly that for a fleeting moment you thought your bones were snapped, causing your grip on the knife to loosen, it falling down on the floor with loud clatter. König kicked the knife away across the kitchen, folding your arm back which caused your back to arch in pain - it felt as if he wanted to tear your limb from the rest of your body.

- Where do you think you’re going, Y/n? - König growled next to your ear, picking you up effortlessly and dragging your kicking form back to the living room.

Hauling you onto the floor König hooked one meaty thigh over your squirming body, putting bigger part on his weight down onto you, momentarily halting all of your struggle. One huge hand took ahold of both your wrists, pinning them to the floor above your head with frightening ease, his other hand was clasping your mouth still. He crouched down, scream mask was mere fifteen centimetres afar from your face as he seethed:

- Now you shut the fuck up and listen closely to what I have to say, and no one will get hurt, you get that? - he said, waiting until you gave him any sing of agreement. But you offered none. - You get that?! - König growled impatiently, bumping your head against the hardwood floor, causing black spots dance in the corners of your eyes for a long minute. You gave a weak nod, feeling hot tears running down your temples, getting lost among your hair.

- I’ve been thinking about you. A lot, - König sighed, hand that was on your face squished your cheeks together painfully, making your lips pucker out. - About this gorgeous mouth and pretty lips…

König crouched down, barely leaving a few centimetres between your faces.

- A this tight little cunt of yours. Remember how you clenched around me? How good my cock was filling you up?

- What do you want from me? - you weeped quietly, voice barely audible, broken by faint sobs and hiccups.

- Very little, dove. Just be an obedient girl and do as you’re told and no one will get hurt, - König tutted, taking in the sight of your crying face. Gosh, he was a sick fuck - his cock was already getting painfully hard, straining against his pants.

Letting go of your face König reached behind his back, withdrawing something from the rear pocket of his jeans. Just as you opened your mouth to cry out for help he shoved that thing inside of your cavity, slapping a hand over your lips so you won’t spit it out. The thing momentarily dissolved on your tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste; you tried to struggle against killer’s strong hold, thrashing violently, but it led you nowhere.

Suddenly you felt hot - as if you had a really bad fever. Your mind clouding up rapidly, thoughts muddling, muscles becoming weaker by the second. You huffed out in frustration; moving your limbs a few centimetres seemed like impossible labour. World was spinning around you, blurring sharp and distinguishable features of König’s mask into a white haze.

König let go of your face once again, his now free hand slid down your body, cupping your sex through numerous layers of clothing separating you two. Sudden pleasure surged through your weakened body upon the contact; a loud moan that rolled off your tongue startled you - and suddenly you realised just how aroused you felt.

- Jeez, that dude didn’t lie about this shit, - König laughed out excitedly, watching your eyes widen in terror. You could barely move by now, not speaking of trying to fight off a man twice your size. His size. In a blur of all events, words and pain you never came back to just how fucking huge he was. You never mentioned that in any of your interrogations. How fucking stupid, huh?

Killer let go of your wrists cautiously, watching you closely - you rose your hands, resting your palms on his chest and pushing with all the might you had left, but it wasn’t enough to even push a cat off the chair - so that was the limit of your strength in this state?

König barked out another laugh - he was going to have so much fun with you! His hand never stopped massaging your crotch, noting a small wet patch forming on your shorts - you were soaked through your panties and now soaking your shorts? Gosh, he better buy a few dozens of these aids. Psycho’s eyes shot up to your face upon hearing a sob - tears ran down your eyes like small diamonds, turning your eyelids a pretty shade of red. König shifted forth so that his mask was almost touching your nose:

- Oh baby, I’ll be much gentler with you this time, I promise, - König cooed, pressing cold plastic of his mask against your flushed wet cheek, as if giving you a comforting peck.

Slasher shifted a bit, changing his position from sitting on your thighs to being in between them, yanking you towards him by your knees. He did quick job of taking your shorts and underwear off in few fluid moves, impatiently discarding them somewhere to the side. König felt his heavy cock twitch inside his jeans at the sight of your puffy cunny, all shiny from slick that practically oozed out of your fluttering hole. He swallowed hard, saliva was practically pooling in his mouth, having to restrain himself from tearing his mask off and devouring your cunt, exposing his face too early. You whined out something unintelligible, still trying to pry his fingers off one of your knees.

Your skin felt hot even through thick fabric of his gloves, so when König took one off and plunged two of his thick fingers inside of your tight hole he was surprised at how hot it was inside of you - one of the drug’s effects, he guessed. You couldn’t help but mewl at the pleasant feeling, your brain barely functioning, controlling yourself was beyond hard.

- That’s it, sweetness. Lemme hear all the pretty sounds you make, - König encouraged, plunging his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace. Rough thumb coming to circle your slicked clit, causing your whole body to jolt softly. Scent of your pooling arousal was strong and prominent, seeping even through König’s mask, making him throb in his pants.

He couldn’t wait any longer. König was dreaming about your pussy being spread around his cock since that first night, he needed to be inside or else he’ll lose the remnants of his mind. Slasher slipped his fingers out of you, quickly undoing his pants, sliding them down as much as knife holster on his thigh would allow. Your breathing increased as you tried to close your legs, man’s bulky form making it impossible for you to do so.

- No, no please.. not again, - you begged, tears rushing down your temples, your voice meek and barely audible, so König just ignored it.

Pulling his girthy cock out König pumped it a few times with gloved hand, aligning pink swollen tip with your leaking entrance. It one smooth movement he bottomed out half of his impressive length, your body - flushed and pliant - taking him inside without any resistance. Low groan rumbled through his broad chest; König’s head fell backwards, hands gripping soft fat of your thighs, leaving pale marks of his fingertips on your skin.

You hated every second of it. Hated how his hips collided with yours with every thrust, how you felt him throb and twitch inside of you; hated how his hands wandered up and down your sides, rubbing your waist and palming your tits. And you hated how fucking good it felt. Hated how your body, despite all your attempts to resist, to fight off the effects of the drug, gave into the pleasure.

- That’s it baby. Just take what I give you, - König breathed out, his words slurred with pleasure. - See? See how good it can feel when you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to? Just be a obedient little girl and feel good, I’ll take care of everything else yeah?

It felt as if a ball of bile got stuck in your throat; your face scrunched up in disgust as much as your jelly muscles allowed it:

- Fuck you, - you barely managed to choke out, your tongue struggling to form right sounds.

For a few moments you were sure König didn’t hear you, given the lack of any reaction nor acknowledgement of your words. But the next thing you knew was searing pain in your left cheek, the impact of man’s wide palm with your face jolted your head to the side, sudden change of its position made you felt dizzy. Now world was spinning around you even more so, you felt something warm trickling down your cheek - blood from your nose, you figured. Killer’s fingers roughly gripped your chin, yanking it back so that you were facing him once again.

- You wanna say that again bitch? Come on, I fucking dare you, - he spat out, movements of his hips halting completely, leaving his cock buried deep inside of your rippling warmth.

Your head shifting so harshly once again made you nauseous; you could barely see anything, dark purple circles were dancing all around, changing their shapes and giving way to greens and yellows to flood your vision.

- That’s what I fucking thought, - König gritted out. His hand let go of your chin, coming lower to wrap strong fingers around your neck. His hips started working with even more vigour, forcing his dick in and out of your drugged cunt on the pace that was almost inhuman.

Firm clasp of maniac’s hand around your neck made it nearly impossible to breathe. Both your hands wrapped around his mighty wrist, too weak to actually get him off you. Your vision started to darken rapidly, white noise trilling in your ears, barely allowing any other sounds to filter through.

- From the very moment I laid my eyes on you I fucking owned you. And I own you right now, and forever will. This is my fucking cunt, and I’ll use it whenever I want to. And I need you to fucking. learn. it. - König growled out, emphasising each of his last words with hard deep thrusts of his hips against yours, his cock making your stomach bulge, surely bruising your cervix.

- Oh but I’ll train you. Mould you into my personal cocksleeve, ready to be used whenever I feel like it, - his pace was quickening, thick cotton of his denim pants muffled filthy sounds of his mighty hips snapping against your ass. The grip of strong fingers never eased; König shifted part of his weight onto his hands which were wrapped around your neck, white mask hovering right in front of your face - milky white of it was a harsh contrast to blackness pooling in the corners of your eyes.

With that your conscience started to slip away. You felt your body jolt with every ferocious thrust of man’s hips, his cock buried deep inside of you, bruising your insides with its persistent bullying. Acute lack of oxygen burnt your lungs, and you prayed to all gods that König held your neck a tad bit too long - just enough for you to not wake up the next time. And just before you slipped into heavy delirium, your mushed up brain picked up König’s growl, penetrating through thick noise humming in your ears:

- You’re mine. Forever and ever.

Street was filled with all kinds of noise - sirens from police cars were going off triggering dogs from nearby houses, neighbours were crowding a bit afar, frowning and shaking their heads, everyone having their own theory of what happened. Loud cries of Y/n’s mother shook the air, putting everyone further on the edge. She is such a sweet girl, she’s never done anything bad! Oh god, why is this happening to her of all people?!

Some people were saying that the girl simply snapped, breaking under the pressure of events and finally fleeting the country without telling anyone to not give any clues about her whereabouts to the killer. Some said she just went out to unwind from being constantly watched by police and have some alone time - she’ll show up anytime soon. But everyone knew that it was one of murderer’s deeds - he did something to her. And everyone knew, deep down, that they’ll never see Y/n again - alive, at least.

A young lanky policemen, obviously green and not experienced in his job, was babbling out his report to the superior, all the other cops that were patrolling with him as well stood around silently, too scared to pipe in.

- Sir, I swear we were patrolling the area all this time, there was literally no one but the neighbours, but they were staying at their pro-

- Then you were not doing it well enough! - city commissioner barked out, his mighty vice silencing everyone around for a short moment. His face was red, fuming with rage; nostrils flaring with intensity of his heavy breathing, angry vein popped up on his temple, pulsating in tandem with his rapid heartbeat. His heavy gaze shifted between all the poor officers, their faces pale as chalk.

- You had one fucking job. ONE fucking job - to keep the girl in the sightline - and where is she now, huh? I’m asking you motherfuckers - where is Y/n?! - Mr. Lindner barked out, his heavy voice making everyone jolt. Younger officers stared down on their shoes blankly, not daring to meet eyes with their boss.

- You may consider yourselves lucky if you’ll still have your licences by the end of the week, - commissioner Lindner tsked, spitting onto the ground in remorse. Turning around, he headed to his police issued car, shouldering all those nosy ones who were brave enough to approach him in this state. Getting inside Mr. Lindner closed the door with a loud bang, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway onto the main road.

Commissioner Lindner drove in full silence, blue eyes fixated on the road ahead; it was barely past midnight, but the darkness hung thick all around, being slit by two yellow rays of his car’s headlights. He gripped steering wheel tighter, one hand coming to comb back his grown out hair out of his eyes, a small smile played in the corners of his scarred lips.

Soon he’ll be home - maybe the effects of drugs will wear off by that time and he’ll watch Y/n wake up slowly, those pretty doe eyes of hers gazing up at him drowsily. He will cook her dinner - all of her favourites - and maybe even spoon feed her, if she’ll allow it. Then he’ll bathe her and tuck her in her new bed, locking up the door for the night and watching her sleep through the cameras.

Everything was going as smoothly as ever. No one has accidentally seen him dragging unconscious Y/n out of her house and hauling her into the backseat of his car. No signs of struggle or fight were found - kitchen sink was still half-filled with soapy water and dirty dishes, clean ones drying off on the countertop, a knife with all the fingerprints being drowned among other dirty utensils. Y/n’s parents approved that everything was on its original place - as if the girl just disappeared, dissolved into thin air.

No one suspected a thing. And, of course, no one suspected a respectable city commissioner Lindner with years upon years of experience, a veteran with impeccable reputation, a person no one could speak badly of.

This was the beginning of your new life, life in which everything revolved around König, causing you to cling onto him as if he was some kind of goddess. Life in which you no longer belonged to yourself, but to your abductor. Life in which you finally understood that you don’t need anyone or anything else because you had König, understood that König was your life itself <3

Slasher! König Masterlist

A/n: I apologise for giving König a half assed name, but I thought it’d be really cool for the plot😌

Once again, feedback is highly appreciated! I’m making this a series so feel free to send in your suggestions for more slasher! König content<3

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hiiii I absolutely loved you Max fics I don’t know if you ever would want to do that but if your interested please do a mafia storyline with Max or Mick! ❤️

Little Lion Man || MV1 & CH16

Pairings: dark!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: you find yourself caught in a war between the mafia families that ruled Monaco. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, guns, murder, pregnancy, slight non con/reluctant vibes, forced marriage WC: 3.5k

For a nation so small it was hard to believe that Monaco could be home to not one but three mafia families. There was the Leclerc famile, Verstsppen familie and the Sainz familia. The Leclerc’s had always called Monaco home but the Dutch and Spanish families had made their arrival known in the 90’s, almost burning the city in the war that broke out.

Just over 30 years later, it looked like history was going to repeat itself as the prodigal sons took over the family businesses.

“You are my daughter, if I say you will marry Charles then you will marry him. End of argument.” You would hardly call it an argument when you weren’t even given an opportunity to say your piece but your father left no room for a rebuttal as he slammed the door closed behind him. There was a reason the Sainz’s called him the Peacemaker.

You were a bargaining chip, a pawn in your father’s arsenal to end the war between the Leclerc’s and the Sainz’s before it could spill out into the street and affect everyone’s bottom line. The last thing anyone wanted was to lose their men, their money and their product.

Two weeks later you were shoved into a wedding dress that could have been a film prop for any 80’s rom-com, puffy sleeves and all. It was hideous.

“You are quite beautiful,” Charles said as you reached the dais where the priest waited. “I suppose that will make this easier.”

By ‘this’ you assumed he meant the moment the reception was over and you found yourself stepping into his bedroom, your bedroom too now. Charles had been quiet for most of the evening, indulging in a handful of whiskeys over ice as he mulled over what his life had become, but he found his voice as he tugged his tie off. “On the bed.”

Your fingers tightened around your waist as you hugged yourself, trying to fight back the tears you thought you had finished shedding when you resigned yourself to your fate. “You don’t have to do this, we can come to an arrangement.”

Charles scoffed and continued to unbutton his dress shirt. “This is the arrangement.”

You swallowed as he shucked the shirt over a leather armrest and you saw the dark tattoos that curled over his biceps and down his forearms. A snake moved with his muscles and entwined around a gothic cross. Beneath it, thorny roses with blood drops splattered over the petals decorated the otherwise sun kissed skin.

“I don’t know what my father told you but I-”

“Your father said you would be an obedient wife,” he interrupted as he pointed a ringed finger to the bed. “I’m only as terrible as you make me.”

You took a step back as he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your face. It was reflex to flinch from his touch, knowing the violence his hands were capable of dealing to those who displeased him. You couldn’t help shivering as his cold wedding band touched your cheek and his other arm snaked around your waist, dragging the zip of your dress down your spine.

“What does that even mean?” you whispered. You took a breath and grew the courage to tip your head back and met his uniquely green eyes - the colour brighter than the soul behind them.

He pushed the puffed sleeves from your shoulders until the dress fell to the floor and inhaled at the sight of your body being bared to him. Biting his lip, he stepped back and ran a hand over his shadow of a beard. “Behave yourself, and I will too. Push me, and I’ll push you back harder.”

You felt the colour drain from your face at the threat and he chuckled as he closed the distance between you, forcing your lips apart with a demanding kiss. His palms ran down your spine and over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against the hard expanse of his body.

“One other thing,” he murmured against your lips. “Disappoint me or my family and, well…it will be the last thing you do, chérie.”

You collapsed into Max’s arms the moment he opened the door, your fingers digging into the straps of muscle along his back as you clung to him like a lifeline. The penthouse apartment was quiet except for the tv playing in the master bedroom and your sobs filled the foyer before he could even close the door.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Max said, despite holding you just as tight. “He probably has Arthur or Lorenzo following you.”

You started to pull back but his arms caged you in his embrace so you settled for talking into his chest. “I know how to lose a tail. I was careful.”

He sighed and rested his cheek on your head, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo he had missed. “I know, liefje. How long is he gone for?”

You screwed your eyes closed and wished he had never brought Charles up, but you knew Max wanted to know how long he could have with you. “He’s in Nice for a meeting. A few hours at least.”

The hatred for your husband had led you into the arms of Max, his rival and head of the Verstappen familie. The three families would meet each quarter for negotiations and settle disputes, or at least that was what it was meant for, but they just used it as a way to flaunt their wealth and success over each other.

It was after the wedding when you went to your first one that Max had caught your lifeless eyes as you sat beside Charles, decked out in a custom designer dress with diamonds strung around your neck, slowly choking you. He had been struck down by the vision before him and had never wanted something for himself so much in his life. He had been willing to go to war for you and he didn’t even know your name. He had learned it soon enough.

“Do you know who he’s meeting?” Max asked. Even when he wasn’t meaning to he was phishing for information, a reflex he couldn’t seem to stop with a mind as sharp as his.

“Please, mijn leeuw, not tonight,” you whined as you buried your face in his neck. (My lion)

“I’m sorry,” he said with a kiss to your forehead before he tipped your chin back to meet his ice-blue eyes. “What do you need from me, liefje?”

“I need to forget. Please, help me forget.”

Max closed his eyes as rage hardened his features and you knew he was rueing the day he let Charles live. The solution to your problem couldn’t be solved with a bullet and although Max knew that, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. He wanted nothing more than to bathe in Charles’ blood for what he had done to you, but the retaliation would be catastrophic. He had too many people relying on him, friends and family alike.

All Max could give you was a few short hours of his time to show you how he would treat you if the circumstances had been kinder. For a few short hours of stolen time he could erase the touch of Charles from your mind.

Max took your hand, his fingers easing your wedding ring off before placing it on the hall table with your handbag. You relished the freedom that came without the constricting band and flexed your fingers like it had been physically painful to wear the gold jewellery. In a way, it had.

Linking his fingers with yours, Max led the way through the apartment and into the bedroom you found comfort in. This should have been the place you called home, the solace you returned to at the day’s end. It was the one place you felt safe, even though just being here put your life in danger. If Charles ever found out you knew you would be dead, your body left somewhere it would never be found.

“Max…do you believe in God?” you asked in the quiet afterwards. Your arm was curled around his waist, fingers tracing the lion tattoo that covered his rib cage. You could feel the time ticking away with each heartbeat in his chest that you rested your head upon.

“No,” he said honestly, his accent thickening with his amusement. “Do you?”

You looked at the slight change in skin tone where your wedding band usually sat and slipped out of his embrace to find your clothes. “I have to,” you whispered as your throat began to tighten at the thought of returning to the cold mansion Charles owned. “There’s got to be something more than this hell. Maybe one day he will answer my prayers.”

Max could remember the feeling of taking over the family business, how he thought he was invincible - godlike even. Now he felt powerless to the situation. He didn’t like the feeling. He wanted to be the one to answer your prayer.

“One day…” he promised himself aloud, missing the way your spine stiffened at the words. There was no guarantee you would survive long enough for him to keep it.

You stared dumbly at the two pink lines and felt the walls of the bathroom constricting around you. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world you were imprisoned in, it was unfair and deadly. What if the babe had dirty blond hair and ice blue eyes? A new fear sent a shudder down your body and you looked at your stomach, nothing to show - yet.

The door crashed off its hinges as Charles busted it in and you screamed at the surprise, cradling your abdomen on reflex.

“I called you ten fucking times!” Charles growled. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the room before settling on the pregnancy tests lined up. For the first time since you had wed him, Charles looked lost for words, and after a moment his hard stare softened. “We are having a baby?”

You couldn’t remember when he ever addressed anything as ‘we’, it was always you and him - separate, not together. You didn’t know how to react to the instant change in him but you nodded stiffly as he waited for an answer.

A smile grew on his face as he stepped forward and pulled your hands away from your stomach to place his own beneath your camisole. “My son, my heir,” he chuckled, the warmth of his palms almost blistering your skin.

“It might be a girl.” You flinch at the look he gave you and muttered an apology. Just because he was suddenly being gentle didn’t mean he would stay that way, especially if he ever found out the child wasn’t his. Nausea rolled through you and you pushed away to hurdle yourself at the toilet before you emptied your stomach.

It wasn’t morning sickness.

It was a sickness of the heart.

You knew if Max were to believe the child was his then he would have no choice but to go to war, it was a matter of pride and family. On the other hand, Charles would never let the child live if it wasn’t his and despite just learning of its existence, you were willing to do anything to protect it. You needed to tread carefully and that meant no more escaping your guards to see Max. It meant playing the good wife, at least for the next eight months.

You could feel his intense stare from across the table, willing you to meet his eyes. Too many times you felt them drifting up from your husband’s hand clasped on your lap only to snap them back down before you could give in. It would do no good to look at Max. You hadn’t seen him since the night before you took the pregnancy test and you had dreaded going to the quarterly meeting.

There was no hiding the bump in the tight dress Charles had chosen for you. There was no way that Max had missed it when you walked in on your husband’s arm. He had seen it and he had questions.

“I’m going to the ladies room,” you excused yourself after the meal, while the men talked business.

“Arthur will go with you,” Charles said with a nod to his younger brother sitting at his other side. “I don’t trust any of these assholes.”

His hand lingered on the small of your back as you stepped out and you glanced across to see Max’s eyes fixated on that touch. Though you did not welcome the hands of your husband, you no longer feared them the way you used to. Charles was far gentler now that you were, potentially, carrying his heir. It could also be Max’s.

A hand clasped over your mouth and silenced the scream that rose in your throat. “It’s me,” Max whispered, soothing your racing heart.

You looked around the powder room wondering how he had made it past Arthur and saw a narrow cleaner’s entrance left open a crack. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You never came back, never answered my messages.” The hurt in Max’s voice made your chest ache and your hands dropped to the growing swell of your abdomen. He followed that movement, his chest filling with the deep breath he took and the pearl buttons on his shirt started to strain until he exhaled. “I didn’t believe the rumours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, the biting tone wanting detailed explanations like you were one of his men answering for your actions.

Your lips parted, ready to tell him exactly what you were sorry for, before they slammed shut. “I should go.”

He caught your arm as you moved past and he pulled you flush against his body to bury his face in your neck. “Tell me, please. I’ll make it happen, I’ll answer your prayers, I’ll go to war for you - for both of you. Just tell me, is it mine?”

The confession threatened to slip past your lips, the truth that you didn’t know, that he very likely could be. The confession threatened to eat you alive like it had done every time you saw one of Max’s men around Monaco. They always managed to get a message to you, but you never had a response to send.

“No,” you muttered as you pushed him away.

He rocked back on his heels but remained steady as he watched you retreat to the exit. “No, it isn’t mine or no, you won’t tell me?”

Your back hit the door and you blindly reached for the handle, sparing one last look at his shimmering eyes so you could remember them a little longer. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night.”

“Dammit, liefje, just tell me. I need to know.”

You broke away at the endearment that weakened your resolve and your shoulders curled in on themselves. “I can’t tell you, Max, because I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.” Your voice cracked and the weight of those words fell tenfold on your shoulders as your hand slipped from the doorknob. “I don’t know who the father is, Max. I-I’m sorry.”

His strong arms grappled you into a tight embrace as you broke down in them, your knees giving out as you felt his lips on your forehead, smelt his cologne on his neck. “It’s okay, liefje, I'm going to fix this.”

You pulled back with eyes and blinked away the tears as you placed your hand on your belly. “How? What if it’s not yours?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he promised as he tipped your chin back. “Mine or not, this baby is yours and that’s enough.”

A knock sounded at the door and you panicked as Arthur asked if everything was alright. Your reply was muffled as Max stole a kiss and quietly repeated his promise before disappearing back into the cleaner’s room. Wiping your eyes, you unlocked the door and met your brother-in-law’s narrowed eyes before they searched the room behind you. “You’ve been crying.”

“Pregnancy,” you said with a wave of your hand. “It’s called hormones, Tur. Happens all the time, just ask your brother.”

Max’s chair was still empty when you reached the table but he entered from the main door a few minutes later. The mask he often wore in front of those outside the familie was firmly in place as he unbuttoned his suit with one hand and dropped back into his seat, apologising for taking an important call.

“Your men can't handle one evening on their own?” Charles baited over the rim of his wine glass with an antagonising smile.

Max returned the grin with his own as he slipped his phone into his suit jacket. “You have no idea what my men are capable of.”

You could feel the ripples of those words across the table, the feel of a threat in the air. It not only set Charles on edge but Carlos too - the two sharing a look of concern before facing the Dutchman once more.

Max took a mouthful of his gin and tonic and bit into the lime wedge without reacting to the strong citrus taste. Taking his time, he picked up his napkin and cleaned the drops of juice from his fingers before laying it over his lap as everyone watched closely.

It looked as if he were nervously fiddling with his rings under the napkin and Carlos snickered, relaxing back into his chair until your lion spoke again. “But you will…”

The air stilled for a moment as the napkin drifted to the floor and warmth splattered your cheek. You couldn’t think fast enough to process what had happened or why the wetness on your cheek was red. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours before your brain connected the dots and you saw your husband's body slumped in his chair before you, his green eyes open but unseeing.

Across the table, Max had risen to his feet, the fidgeting revealing a silencer he had been screwing onto his gun. He was cold and precise as he took out Carlos next, his accuracy unmatched. Around the seats he went, faster than they could react as the doors were busted open and his second in command arrived. Danny was ready to die protecting Max’s back while you dropped to the floor and prayed for protection of your own.

“We have to get out of here,” Arthur growled as he caught your ankle and dragged you back where he was kneeling, his white chinos turning red as they absorbed his brother’s blood. “Stay low, protect my nephew.”

“Do you have a gun?” you asked with a shaking voice.

“Of course not,” he spat angrily. No one was meant to have weapons at these meetings and you were assuming Max had retrieved his from the reception area before returning.

“Then you’re fucked.” You kicked your Louboutin into his face and scrambled away as he howled in pain, reaching the edge of the table close to Max.

“Liefje, are you alright?”

“Arthur, under there,” you rushed as you pointed behind you, closing your eyes as he lifted the cloth and the muffled gunshot rang out.

“Not anymore.”

“Time to go,” Danny suggested, reloading his magazine and kicking a few bodies to check they were truly dead.

“Is that it?” You asked, hope filling your voice despite the devastation in the room surrounding you.

Daniel threw his head back and laughed but Max just shook his head and said, “This is just the beginning. We just declared war.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Someone will take over, and when they do - we will need to be ready.” Max reached out and wiped the blood from your cheek. “You’re free of him now, you both are.”

Your breath rattled out of you as you felt the weight lift from your shoulders and as the sirens grew in the distance you managed to smile, the first genuine smile in months. Your prayers had finally been answered. “Thank you, mijn leeuw.”

Five Months Later

Ice blue eyes met yours before a piercing cry erupted and Max’s laugh was one of pure joy. “Mijn zoon,” he cooed softly as he rested his cheek on your head and you watched the midwife gently bring your son to your waiting arms.

Tears blurred your vision at the warm comforting weight of his tiny body lying chest to chest with you. You had never felt anything more precious, never held anything more delicate. He was perfect.

“My little lion man,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over the tufts of dark hair he already had. “We love you so much.”

As if he knew what the words meant, his eyelashes fluttered and he peeked them open to bear twin green irises. He would be an heir. He could unite the families. Or, he could tear it all apart.

Only time would tell.

[buckys-wintersoldier]

His name, his property | Steve Kemp

// Pairing //

-> Dark!Steve Kemp x Female!Reader

// Summary //

-> After letting you out of the basement Steve makes sure that you and everyone else knows who you belong to. His name written on your skin is a good option, isn't it?

// Wordcount //

-> 4.085 Words

// Warnings // Explicit Content

-> 18+, Minors DNI, dark content, kidnapping, hint of stalking, non-con tattoo, mention of cannibalism, Stockholm syndrome, non-con kissing, choking, finger sucking, masturbation, handjob, mention of oral (fem!receiving) and unprotected p in v

// Request //

-> I’ve really been craving a marking kink piece lately and I love your writing. Can you write a Steve kemp smut where he kidnaps the reader and wants to claim her as his so he tattoos his name on her lower back (tramp stamp) and when he sees the finished product he can’t help but cum all over her face

// Authors Note //

-> First of all thank you for the request and the feedback. Hope you like the request and it’s what you thought about.

-> I want to thank @bucks-babe for encouraging me and the comments, proofreading.🩷🩷

// Events //

-> Fandom-Free Bingo: Book Night Edition | G3 | “BEG for it!” | @fandom-free-bingo

// Masterlist | Steve Kemp Masterlist //

You don’t know what happened last night, the only thing you can remember is the party you were at last night. Usually you don’t drink much, so you really wonder why you can’t remember how you came to this place and got undressed. The warm blanket covering your body stops the cold from the room to surround you and you sigh softly, frowning when you turn your head to find out where you are. Maybe you hooked up with one of these guys at the party? But why is the room so cold and dark, and where is whoever you hooked up with?

The creaking sound of the door lets your gaze wander, and a moment later you have to shut your eyes. A bright light is shining into the dark room, and a big, broad man walks into the room. He closes the door and turns on the light, letting himself fall down on a chair opposite you.

“Glad you’re finally awake; I thought you would sleep a day more. Maybe I gave you a bit too many drugs; aren't you used to them, huh?” The man chuckles darkly, and you don't feel comfortable anymore. You open your eyes slowly to get used to the light before you turn your head to face him, and your jaw drops. “Looks like you remember me, love?”

You nod your head, closing your mouth, and try to sit up when you feel something around your arm. Your gaze immediately shoots to the chains that are around your arm, and you gasp. “W—Please let me go. I can give you money; do you want money?”

“Babe, does that basement look like I need money? You have your very own toilet and look at the beautiful sunrise, or do you want to call it a sunset? However, doesn’t it look pretty?” He asks, smirking at you, and you shake your head. Panic is growing in your body, and you inhale deeply, covering your face with your hands before you look back at the man.

“C—Can you please take these handcuffs off and we can talk?” You ask, and you breathe, shaking while you feel tears building up in your eyes.

“We can talk, but I won't take them off. Maybe when you're good, are you good?” The man smirks at you; his legs are spread, and he leans forward, placing his forearms on top of his thighs while he stares at you with such an intense gaze.

“What do you want then? Can you please let me go?” With every passing second, your breathing gets heavier, and your body starts to tremble. You definitely haven't planned to go to a party and be drugged to get kidnapped by such a psycho guy.

“I'm gonna tell you, but you will freak out. Just please don't freak out, oke?” The brown-haired man says with a nice smirk, and you’re not sure if you should be even more scared or less now, but something inside of you is enough to just scream and run — even though that isn't working with handcuffs around your wrist. "Remember, I told you I'm a doctor-”

And suddenly, you remember what happened in the evening. This nice guy, Steve, sat next to you at the bar, asking you if you wanted a drink as well. Since you two had a lot of fun then — laughing and talking about everything and nothing — he asked you to come with him to a more private corner of the bar. When you agreed, you had another drink, and then everything was dizzy. The next thing you can remember is waking up in the dark room — obviously his basement.

“Usually I would sell your meat; it brings a lot of money, and it is delicious— Calm down, love, I said usually. But I love you, babe,” he says, grinning while he gets up from the chair. His hands slide down his sweater, and he takes a step closer. “So when you do what I say, we are going to have a family, and I will give you my kids. Oh, they will be wonderful, won’t they? And we will be happy. When you don’t do what I say, I’m gonna punish you.”

“You’re fucking insane! I don’t want to have your kids, and I won't do what you want!” You shoot, crawling backwards, when he takes another step forward. “Stay there! Steve, please! Stay where you are! Don’t dare to step closer— please. Steve, please don’t come closer!” You say it through gritted teeth, but he only chuckles at your attempt to crawl away until you crash against the wall behind you.

Steve gets on his knees when he is just a few inches away from you. You already plan how to bite or kick him when he is taking another step closer, but he stays where he is and just looks at you with a soft smile.

“Listen, I’m the one who is in charge, so you better accept it. Like I said, when you don’t do what I say, I’m gonna punish you. Do you want me to punish you, babe? Sore, red ass, huh?” Even though he kind of scares you, when he reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of your face, you feel like there is no fear left in your body.

“I will cut off your dick or—" You get interrupted when your head flies to the side and your cheek burns. Steve just grasps your chin, stopping you from turning your face away while tears form in your eyes and fall slowly down your cheeks. His smile is so soft, and his beautiful blue eyes show nothing but comfort, but he just hit you. Your feelings go crazy, and the way he looks at you and the way his soft fingers hold your chin don’t help with your feelings.

You sob quietly, while he captures your cheeks with both of his hands and wipes your tears softly with his thumbs away. “It’s oke, babe. I love you, and you will love me too,” he mumbles, leaning closer to kiss your forehead before he pulls away and looks deep into your eyes.

“Steve—“ you get interrupted once again when he pushes his thumb into your mouth, pushing your tongue down. You gag around his thumb, and it causes more tears to fall down your cheeks. He then pulls his thumb out of your mouth and smirks.

“Shut your mouth unless you beg for my cock or want to tell me that you love me, love,” he says, leaning forward, and this time he captures your lips with his. They are so soft and warm, and he moves them so perfectly against yours that you just want to give in, leaning more into his touch. Steve will get what he wants, even when it takes a bit to tell you that you love him, but you will be his beautiful, cute wife.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, smirking when you immediately close your mouth and crawl further back. You whimper, leaning your back against the wall and looking down at your hands. With your fingers, you play with the handcuffs, moving them around your wrist. Steve looks at you the whole time, smiling softly before he gets up.

“Will you always keep me in the basement?” You ask shyly, not looking at him. A low chuckle leaves his lips. Steve turns around and looks at you once again.

“When you tell me you’re good, I will take you upstairs. Are you good?” His voice sounds soft, and when you look up, you see nothing but comfort in his eyes. Steve’s hands are in his pants pockets while he waits for you to answer. You nod, flicking when his eyes darken, and he looks suddenly at you with an angry expression. “Use your words, love.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, wanting to look back down on your hands, but his intense blue eyes hold yours. You just can’t look away; even though he just looked angry, when his gaze softens, you feel a comfortable warmth rushing through your body. “I’ll be good.”

He grins, walking closer to you and getting down on his knees once again. Steve’s blue eyes brighten when you hold your hands up for him to open the handcuffs. He then gets up and holds his hand out for you to place your smaller one in his big one. When you do so, you smile slightly; his hand is so warm and soft.

“Let’s get upstairs and get some food into your belly, huh?” You nod your head, getting up as well. Your legs feel like jelly, and Steve has to catch you so you won’t fall forward. He immediately wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you tight against him, and you can feel his broad chest against your back. You sigh softly until you feel something poking into your lower back, gasping when he thrusts his hips slowly forward to press his growing bulge more against you.

“S—Sorry,” you mumble, not wanting to make the situation awkward, but Steve doesn’t look ashamed at all. He grinds his bulge against you while his grip on your hips tightens. Steve’s fingers dig into your soft skin, and you moan quietly, your cunt dripping when his cock slides up and down your lower back and your ass. He leans down, his lips grazing over your skin. Steve kisses and sucks at your skin before he lets go and takes your hand to lead you upstairs.

Steve made lunch for the two of you; his eyes were roaming the whole time over your face, and he smirked when you ate the food with a satisfied smile on your face. “You’re pretty when you smile. Know why I feel for you,” he said, causing you to look up at him and blush slightly.

His tongue slid out and across his lips while his eyes suddenly darkened, and he groaned with a huge smirk on his plump lips. “Should make you mine, but first finish lunch, babe.”

Not long after you are placed on your belly on the bed, Steve doesn’t allow you to turn around, and afraid of punishment, you listen to him and just lay there while you listen to him walk through the room.

“Are you gonna be good, babe? Or do I need to handcuff you?” He asks; you can hear him smirking, and your stomach feels like it’s turning around. You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down. Maybe he just wants to joke around or something.

“I—I will be good,” you mumble, placing your hands underneath your head so he can’t reach them immediately.

Steve chuckles darkly before he makes his way to the bed. His footsteps are heavy, and your body starts to tremble when his hand slides along your leg, causing goosebumps on your skin. “Gonna show everyone that you belong to me, babe.”

Steve places whatever he has in his hands next to you on the bed and lets himself fall down next to you on the mattress.

“What are you doing?” You ask, turning your head slightly, but Steve is fast and snaps his hand forward, pressing it on the back of your head to turn your head back, pressing it down on the mattress.

“Told you, gonna show everyone that you belong to me,” he says again before he moves and sits on your thighs, causing you to groan. “I’m not that heavy, love.”

You squirm a bit while Steve grasps the hem of your shirt and pushes it up. He reveals your back, his fingers grazing slightly over your skin. “Steve, please—"

“Shut your mouth!” His voice sounds harsh, and you immediately obey, closing your eyes and trying to think of something better than Steve sitting on your thighs.

A cold liquid drops on your warm skin, and you yelp, trying to turn your head around once again, but he still pushes your face into the mattress, so you’re not able to see whatever he is doing right now. He then waves the liquid away, and you’re really not sure what he is doing there.

“Could hurt a bit but will be fine.” Steve mumbles, and your eyes widen. His hand on the back of your hand lets go of you, but you don’t dare turn your head. You inhale deeply; your breath is shaking, especially when you hear him turning on a machine.

He brings it closer to your back, and before you can say something or move away, you feel a sharp pain in your back. You scream and gasp, your skin burns, but he brings the machine over and over again to your skin. “Steve, please. That hurts; don’t do that, please.”

For a brief moment, you just want to turn around and try to get him off of you, but since he sat down on your thighs, you’re kind of frozen, and now, with him making a tattoo on your back, even more.

Tears are building up in your eyes, rolling down your cheeks, and causing a wet spot on the sheets underneath you. Quiet sobs leave your lips while Steve holds you in place and continues with the tattoo. A smirk crosses his lips when the first letter is written down on your lower back. He groans, his dick growing in his pants, when he makes the next letter.

“Gonna cum in my pants when you have my name written on your back, fucking gorgerous,” he moans, thrusting his hips forward for you to feel his bulge pressing against your ass. “Or maybe I jerk off and come all over your face, or your tattoo, fuck, I can’t decide it’s all so hot. My dick is so hard, and my balls are so fucking heavy, filled with so much cum, and I will pump you full with it at some point.”

“Steve, please,” you try, but a sob interrupts you, and Steve just ignores you, continuing to finish the tattoo on your lower back. He groans every now and then, his tongue wetting his lips while his hand is pressing down on your back, and you feel his hips rutting against yours every now and then.

You don’t know how much time passes until he finally turns off the machine. Tears are still falling down your cheeks, but unless you get a few sniffles, you’re quiet. You thought Steve could be soft, and he can, but right now you just feel scared and hurt. Steve places the machine and color to the side and wipes a cold washcloth over your lower back, causing you to flinch.

“Do you want a nice bath with me or do you want to watch a movie? He asks, leaning down to kiss your neck softly. Steve’s lips are so warm and soft against your neck that you want to sigh, but the burning pain in your lower back makes you wiggle to try and move away from him.

“You’re fucking insane! I don’t want a bath with you!” You say it with a shaking voice while he sighs. He then lets go of you and lets you crawl from the bed, pushing your shirt down before you look for the nearest corner.

He looks at you when you sit with your back pressed against the wall, your legs pulled up, and against your chest while you rest your head on your knees and stare at the wall.

“Babe, come here. I’m sorry, oke. But seeing you so often go out with your friends makes me go crazy. And when someone comes over here, they can see that you’re mine. I love you, babe,” he says, his voice soft.

You turn a bit to face him; his steel blue eyes look so soft, and his lips are curled up into the sweetest smile. “How about I make it up to you?”

You narrow; what does he understand when he says he is making it up to you? You shake your head; he just made you a tattoo with his name. But with his question, the anger inside of you grows, and the pain on your skin turns into anger too. With a clenched jaw, you let a small chuckle escape your lips. “Wanna make it up to me?”

He nods his head, getting up from the bed and walking a few steps closer. You immediately press yourself more into the corner. Steve sighs before he gets on his knees and reaches his hand out for you to grab or for him to touch you. “Yes, let me make you feel good.”

“Making me feel good — maybe with another tattoo? Or do you want to make it up, and I can make a tattoo on your fucking dick?” You ask with a low chuckle.

Steve’s jaw clenches, and he grasps your arm harshly, pulling you off the floor and back to the bed. “Can’t fucking appreciate it, can you? Just made you mine, or else someone else would have fucked you. Are you such a whore that you want someone else to fuck you?”

“I would prefer everyone in that city instead of letting you fuck me!” You shoot at him, trying to wiggle out of his tight grip, but he turns the two of you around and takes a seat on the bed while he pushes you onto the ground in front of him.

“Would you?” Steve’s voice is calm, and it causes you to shiver. His blue eyes are darkened; he grips your neck and squeezes lightly. You nod your head, trying to ignore the tight grip of his hand around your throat. “Then you can start to show me that you can be a good girl.”

“Thought you wanna make me feel good?” You ask, looking through your lashes and trying to grin. But his hand is squeezing even more, and you feel yourself panicking when he just doesn’t want to let go of your neck. “I’m sorry, p—please.”

“Good girl, beg Daddy to let go of your neck. Fuck— could look at you sitting between my legs all the time, begging for me. Sit still!” He demands, his fingers letting go of your neck, and he brings them to your cheek, his thumb slipping over your lips before he pushes his digit into your mouth. Steve groans before he removes his thumb.

Steve lets go of you and brings his hand to his belt, unbuckling it before his hand disappears in his pants. He is freeing his weeping cock. You whimper, your eyes widen when you see his huge length, the tip read, and pre-cum is leaking down his thick, veiny shaft. His hand is wrapped around his cock while he gives himself a few strokes, smirking at you.

“Like that, love? Knew you would love seeing me jerk off and come all over your face,” he says, grinning when you slowly move away from him. His free hand immediately snaps out to grasp your neck again, and he pulls you closer. “Sit still! Wanna give you all of my cum.”

His thumb moves over his tip, and he groans while bucked his hips forward, thrusting into his hand. You can’t move away; his grip is too tight around your neck, and you swallow harshly, trying to look at something else at least. Steve pushes your head even further toward his cock, grinning. His dick is the only thing you are able to look at unless you look up. Then you would look at his lower belly, covered with his shirt.

“Look at my cock when I come all over your face, babe,” he groans, his cock twitching in his hand. He pumps his length at a steady pace, his thumb brushing every now and then across his tip, and he smears his pre-cum all over his cock.

Even though you didn’t want to see it, you kind of like it. Steve's dick is beautiful, and you can’t help the growing wetness between your legs, soaking your panties slowly. “C—Can I do that?”

For a moment, he is narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side before he recognizes the way you press your thighs together. Steve loves that his action of jerking himself off in front of you has such an effect on you, and he lets you gladly help him with his hard cock. “You can wrap your hand around my length and pump it.”

You nod, lifting your hand, and wrap your fingers softly around them. The brown-haired man immediately groans loudly when your soft and warm hand is wrapped around him, moving up and down. Your eyes are focused on the leaking tip, and then you let them wander down his shaft. Using your fingertips to slide them along his vein before you wrap your fingers around his cock again.

Steve smirks at you. He looks at you for a while — addicted to your hand around his cock, your soft touches, and the way you clench your thighs to get some friction between your legs. He then looks behind you, and a big mirror shows your back and ass. Steve lifts your shirt and smirks; he can see his name written down over your ass.

A pornographic moan leaves his lips when he thrusts into your hand, almost hitting your face since he still holds you close to his dick. The sight of his name on your lower back and the steady movements of your hand around his cock bring him closer to his orgasm. His balls are heavy, and his dick twitches.

The man grasps your hand, removing it from his cock, and causes you to whine. “Don’t whine; you can get my cock. But I said I would come all over your face. You look so fucking gorgeous with my name on your back; you belong to me, babe.”

You whimper, staring at his cock while he thrusts into his hand. His eyes are focused on your back; Steve is going feral with that sight; his moans and groans get louder, and he is about to come, giving you his cum and painting your face white with it.

With a few more strokes and a loud groan, he comes all over your face, shooting his seeds all over it and smirks satisfied. He could come once again just from you having his cum across your face and looking through your lashes at him. Your tongue is sliding over your lips, licking the cum off of them, and a desperate moan is leaving your lips when you taste him.

“Yeah, like my cum, huh? Pump you full with it; you’re so sexy with my cum all over your face, making me go feral for you,” he groans, leaning down, pushing you away before he presses his lips for a passionate kiss against yours.

It’s rough, and he immediately asks for access when he glides his tongue over your lips, getting it when you part your lips and let him explore your mouth with his tongue. The tingling feeling in your lower stomach grows; your pussy is dripping.

“Let’s clean your face,” he says after pulling away from the kiss. His fingers swipe over your face, grazing his cum. Steve holds them in front of your mouth, waiting for you to twirl your tongue around them and clean his fingers. You moan softly, sucking on his digits, before he repeats his actions and lets you lick off his cum until your face is clean. “Good girl, deserving a reward for helping me to jerk off and eating all of my cum, huh?”

You immediately look up into his beautiful steel-blue eyes, nodding your head. Steve chuckles, letting go of your neck and getting off the bed, starting to strip. “Take off your clothes; I’m hungry, and I want a meal before I pump you full with my cum.” His voice sounds so rough and sexy that you obey, smirking while you do what he asks you for.

He may be a dick, but he is a hot dick, and you’re pretty sure he can help your tingling and dripping cunt perfectly. Maybe he isn’t that bad; he loves you, so you can learn to love him too, right? You definitely can, especially when you see those pretty blue eyes roaming over your naked body like he looks at his prey, ready to eat your pussy.

// Taglist //

@kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel

[barbies1shots]

frennn do toxic ex husband or boyfriend sukuna😍😩

i gotchu girl , lemme try my best . jus kno that this will be triggering for some people . also , if you kno anyone who is in any type of this relationship , get them some help . this is lowkey long too :/

☆ - TOXIC themes , mentions of murder , mentions of cannibalism , mentions of suicide , mentions of stalking , abuse , NON-CON , attempting at manipulation , idc how big you are sukuna is bigger , dacryphilia , exhibitionism , overstimulation , somnophilia , reader tries her best to stick up for herself , pet names , ruining of careers , doggy , chokehold , (please lmk if theres stuff i should add .)

read at your own risk .

exboyfriend!sukuna who sees you hang with a another man. sees you smile when he makes a bitch ass joke.

exboyfriend!sukuna who seethes in complete anger after he followed the both of you home. he rembered the address and noticed it was yours. he lost it once you moved and changed states.

exboyfriend!sukuna who sees the man leans down and give you a kiss. and that kiss soon turns into a heated kissing session.

exboyfriend!sukuna who palms himself behind his trousers as he saw the man squeeze your ass.

exboyfriend!sukuna who follows you home and pins you against the door with his massive frame as you were putting your keys in the door.

exboyfriend!sukuna who slaps you after you screamed at him that you'll call the cops.

"We broke up for a damn reason! Get the hell away from me you psycho! Get off me- get your hands off me!"

exboyfriend!sukuna who immediately apologizes with little to no regret in his small red eyes.

exboyfriend!sukuna who forces his lips against yours to shut your screaming up. he has your eyes rolls into the back of your head and making it drowsy from the lack of air.

exboyfriend!sukuna who sneaks a hand into yours and takes the keys from you and unlocks your door. he shoves you into your own apartment and presses you against the door.

"you understand why im here, right?"

exboyfriend!sukuna whispered into your ear as he said hes always love you despite the arguments and the abuse.

exboyfriend!sukuna who says hes incredibly sorry and that hell never do it again.

exboyfriend!sukuna who says that you are the only woman for him, who presses his large head into your neck to kiss you. he marks you up as his hands wander under your shirt, into your waistband of your pants.

exboyfriend!sukuna who strips you out of your clothes with little to no care if you want to be naked infront of him or not.

exboyfriend!sukuna who smirks widly once you came to your senses and slapped him before screaming in his face again.

"Didnt I fucking tell you to leave me the hell alone?! I dont want anything to do with you, Ryomen! you keep hurting me and i want something happy!

"i want xxxx"

exboyfriend!sukuna who immediately slaps a hand over your mouth once you said that mans name.

exboyfriend!sukuna who threatens to chop the mans head off and feed you his remains.

exboyfriend!sukuna who smiles once he knows that you wont try anything.

exboyfriend!sukuna who then resumes taking the rest of your clothes off, leaving you in just your socks.

"you want this right, baby? you dont want your little boy toy to die, do you mama?"

exboyfriend!sukuna murmured into your ear as he picked you up and and sat you gently on your own bed.

exboyfriend!sukuna who catches your ankle in a searing grip once you tried to crawl away from him. your ankle immediately flammed and became swollen.

exboyfriend!sukuna who pressed his crotch into your ass once he flipped you around and ran his large hands up and down your back, thinking of where to put the tattoo of his name.

exboyfriend!sukuna who picks up your legs and bends you into a mean arch, ignoring your pleas at it hurting.

exboyfriend!sukuna who eats it from the back, rough tongue setting pace on everything on there.

exboyfriend!sukuna who laughs widly as you came on his tongue, making everything 10x dirtier, messy and wet. just how he likes it

exboyfriend!sukuna who continues to tongue fuck you and adds his 3 thick fingers to your hole to plunge them in, smirking when hes met with little to no resistance.

exboyfriend!sukuna who watches your thick thighs tremble as you are overcome by immense pleasure.

"you know how i like it, baby- weve been doing it for years. Remember, ma? remember we would come home and be all over each other? and you went and fucking throw it all the fuck away!"

exboyfriend!sukuna who pins your arms behind your back as you tried to run from him pressing his dick into your hole.

"you cant run from it."

exboyfriend!sukuna who slams himself in you without any mercy. he groans out with a smile as he feels you whine, cry and drip all over him.

exboyfriend!sukuna who makes you cum once again on his thick dick, making a mess on his thighs and your bed and throws an arm around your neck, tightening untill your put into a headlock against his chest.

exboyfriend!sukuna who doesnt give up on your cunt and doesnt respond to your attempts to tap out.

exboyfriend!sukuna who only stops once he sees your phone ringing, seeing its a FaceTime request from that.. man.

exboyfriend!sukuna who smiles widely at this and pushes your head back into the pillows, pulling your back into that deep, mean arch and accepts the call.

exboyfriend!sukuna who turns the camera around and points it at your gushing cunt and sweat ridden back.

"who are you?! (name)?! (name) what is this!?"

exboyfriend!sukuna he begins to pound into you extra hard this time. he breathes out heavy moans and small whimpers. he makes sure the phone mic picks up on his and your moans and whimpers.

exboyfriend!sukuna who cums deeply into your sloppy cunt, pulling out and showing the camera the mess hes made. showing the man on the other side, who his bitch is.

exboyfriend!sukuna who grips your hair, only to see you passed the fuck out and laughs crudely at that, he pulls your head back and shows the camera your tear ridden and wet face.

exboyfriend!sukuna who tells the man on the other side that (y/n) is his whether she likes it or not. that no one will want her once hes done with her but him.

exboyfriend!sukuna who runs his hands over your ass and pulling the cheeks apart and takes a picture to post online, immediately getting views and shattering whatever career you had.

exboyfriend!sukuna who shatters your phone after and sits back on his haunches, watching the way your body twitches and skin bubbles up with goosebumbs from the sudden cold.

exboyfriend!sukuna who continues to stare, even as you scream and throw things at him once you woke up and figured what he did.

exboyfriend!sukuna who tackles you and chokes you out against the floor after he pushed you off the bed.

"leave me again, i dare you, baby."

- Aizawas BARB !

toxic sukuna will always have a small place in my heart , though- once again- please know that this is NOT healthy and to help yourself/others if you/they are in any type of toxic relationship .

prt2 toxic!sukuna

prt3 toxic!sukuna

revenge on toxic!sukuna

[l1tw1ck]

Simeon's Devotion

Sub!Bottom!FTM!Priest Simeon x Dom!Top!AMAB!Holy Knight Reader

Word Count: 2,410

Reverend Simeon, plagued by sinful thoughts of a certain holy knight, is suddenly struck with a high fever and abandons his God

AFAB Language Used | 2K Anniversary Request: For a Simeon Fic | [Breaking the Thermostat]

CW: Non-Con, Heavy Religious Themes, Dom/Sub, Virginity Loss, Bleeding, Size Difference, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Cunnilingus, Belly Bulge, Womb Fucking, Squirting, Creampie, Kidnapping

You knock loudly against Simeon’s doors, heavily injured. You hear the sound of shuffling and see the lights turn on inside. Moments later, he opens the door for you.

Simeon calls out your name in shock. “What happened to you?!” He helps you inside.

“Ran into some demons..” You murmur, sitting down on his couch. “Can you heal me?”

“Of course!” Simeon hastily removes your clothes, leaving you in just an undershirt and boxers. You're both already used to this. “How many this time?”

“I wanna say…30?” You watch him kneel down and use his divine powers on your wounds.

“30?! Did something attract them?”

“I’m not sure. I was on patrol and everything seemed normal. The monsters looked strange too. They all looked like distorted versions of God and they were muttering things like ‘sinner’ and ‘dirty’.” 

“That's strange..”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like it before.” You reach to rub your temple but Simeon quickly heals your headache. “Could I have something to eat? I know you're probably tired so something like crackers would be fine.”

“You need to eat a real meal. I don't mind cooking for you. You can sleep over too, all your clothes are washed.” Simeon finishes your last wound and stands up. It's very common for you to sleep over at Simeon’s due to exhaustion since demons usually show up on the outskirts of town and you live a bit further away. “Think you can take a shower?”

You stand up and groan, the sound making Simeon twitch. “I think so. Thanks, Simeon.”

“God must be disappointed in you. So much for being a priest.” You say, staring at Simeon. He’s wearing sexy see through lingerie and an extravagant matching sheer silk robe. His legs are spread and he’s leaning against his bed frame. His tears are glistening against his cheeks, they’re shining like glitter. “You're nothing but a dirty sinner.” You move his panties aside.

Simeon looks at you, batting his eyelashes. Another tear falls down his cheek. “You’re my god now.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re mine.” You slowly begin to ease your cock inside him. “And I’m yours.” You press your hand against his pelvis, a pretty marking appearing on it.

Simeon suddenly wakes up moaning your name with his hand stuffed in his underwear. He gasps and yanks it out. He quickly wipes his hand on his clothes and begins to pray. “Please deliver me from temptation.” He repeats the same phrase over and over but as his body begins to grow hot, his prayer becomes strange.

“Please give me [Name]’s cock–” Simeon gasps and covers his mouth. “No…Forgive me— I need his co—” He covers his mouth again. He can't talk. He attempts to pray silently but that doesn't work either. It just makes him feel even more horny.

He begins to absentmindedly remove all of his clothes, his hands moving on their own to touch his wet pussy. He leans back, eyes out of focus, and begins to touch himself but he doesn't really know how. He just rubs his folds, which feel extremely sensitive. “I’m…I’m a sinner..” He mumbles, still out of it. “And a slut.”

“Only [Name] will accept me now.” Simeon brings his hand up to his tattoo and presses on it, a wave of pleasure flowing through him. 

He stumbles out of the bed and drunkenly walks to his guest room, where you’re sleeping. Knocking didn't cross his mind as he opened the door. 

“Si- Simeon?” You ask sleepily, sitting up. “Is something wrong?” You can't tell that he's naked. You move to sit on the side of the bed and squint at him.

“Yes..” He says quietly, stepping towards you. He kneels in between your legs. “I need you.”

“What?!” You recoil. “Are you okay? Are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk.” Simeon presses kisses along your legs down to your feet. “I’ll do anything you want, [Name]. Anything.”

“I think you need to drink some water…you're not thinking straight.” You get off of the bed. As you try to head towards the door, Simeon stops you.

“I don’t need water, I need you.” He pulls you closer, he’s somehow stronger than before, and forces you into a kiss. It doesn't take long for him to pass on his ‘fever’ to you. Heat rushes through your body as your rational thoughts dispel like bubbles. He pulls away and looks at you lovingly. 

“Simeon...” You hold his chin, speaking with a loving tone. “How beautiful.” You mumble. He moans your name breathily.

“Kneel for me.” You order. Simeon kneels once again. You pull down your shorts and boxers at the same time. His eyes widen, hearts forming in them, when he sees your thick length. The process of becoming a Holy Knight can alter someone's body in major ways but he never knew it could change by this much. “Open your mouth.” You run your fingers through his hair.

Simeon opens his mouth and lets you slide your cock inside it. His mouth is unbelievably hot. He can feel the corners of his lips stretching to fit you. The thought of you stretching his pussy open next makes him moan. He stares into your eyes as you begin to thrust. You're sure they're glowing. 

“Your mouth feels amazing.” You moan. Simeon moans as well. “‘S perfect for me..” You speed up your thrusts. He happily allows you to fuck his mouth. He closes his eyes and focuses on your voice. He’s so aroused it's becoming painful.

You tighten your grip on his hair as your thrusts become unruly and desperate. He looks at you again, this time with tears in his eyes. But the tears aren't because he’s upset. “You look so pretty when you cry.” You groan as you come inside his mouth. You slowly pull away as Simeon swallows your seed without hesitation. You're still hard and you both want more. You pick him up and slam him onto the bed. Somehow, the both of you are able to see perfectly in the dark. Maybe it has something to do with the glow in your eyes.

You spread his legs and smile at how wet he is. The marking on his lower stomach glows faintly as you physically observe his pussy with your fingers. He squirms around cutely. You kneel in between his legs, mirroring what he did earlier, and bury your face into his pussy. Simeon moans. “Yes– oh- yes~!” He sucks in a breath. “[Name]~!” It's like he's ascended to heaven. 

You drag your tongue up to his clit and gently suck on it. It quickly and unnaturally swells in your mouth. It feels like he’s stuck on the edge of an orgasm, although it feels good nonetheless. You slip a finger into his hole and then another when you realize how easily it entered him, despite his tightness. “Ooh- oh, [Name]~” Simeon squeezes your fingers tightly as you attempt to finger him. The constant flexing of his walls make it difficult to move them but you don't mind. You’re more interested in how that’ll feel when you fuck him.

He can tell he's not going to come from this. He's not sure why, it feels like there's something blocking him from doing so. “Put…put your cock inside me, please~”

You smile and move away, standing back up. “Of course, my love.” You lick your lips and line up your cock with his pussy, slowly coating your tip with his slick. He bites down on his lip and uncontrollably twitches as you begin to sink into his sopping warmth. He throws his head back and grips the bed sheets while moaning shamelessly. You're barely inside him. His entire pussy is throbbing so heavily, it's almost like a second heartbeat. Blood soon spills from your penetration. 

The true representation of his sin.

He moans your name with his enchanting voice. Your cock ‘knocks’ on his cervix and strangely enough, it seems to be allowing your entrance. Like it wants you to enter his womb. You don't think about how that should be impossible and slide further inside him. “It feels– feels so—” He gasps, squirting. His eyelashes are fluttering rapidly.

“There you go, baby. Come for me.” You rub his clit with your thumb. He writhes around, no longer squirting but his cunt’s still squeezing you like crazy. He isn't able to think about anything at all, his brain is overloaded. The outline of his tattoo is becoming a bright blue. “Good boy…keep going.” You praise him.

Simeon wants to say your name again but he is completely unable to speak.

“Let’s make up for all your years of abstaining.” You start to thrust. He slowly comes back down to earth with each thrust you make. 

“Ah–” His eyes are sparkling with tears. “You’re so big…stretching me out~” 

“That’s right, I’m making your pussy fit the shape of my cock.” You slowly rub the bulge on his stomach, fucking him at a slow pace. “Your body’s gonna remember me and only me.”

“That's– that’s all I want~” Simeon moans. “Only you~”

“So pretty…” You brush his hair out of his face. He looks like a painting. You bring your hands to his waist and slowly build up to a faster pace. He reaches for you so you lean in. He wraps his arms around you.

“I love you.” He says in a shaky tone.

“I love you too.” You look into his eyes. For a brief moment, he realizes this isn't the real you, then he brushes it off. He feels strange. “My sweet Simeon.” You kiss him. The bed starts rocking due to your quickened thrusts. You separate from the kiss, some saliva dripping down his lip.

He looks down and notices the marking on his womb is glowing and the same color as his eyes. His desire has been satisfied. It’s all over. He looks up at you, suddenly shaking like a scared rabbit. The artificial light flickers out like a used lightbulb. He can't see you clearly anymore. The only lights are the glow in your eyes and the faint moonlight. “[Name]?” He asks.

“Hm?”

You're still…you’re not aware like he is. He suddenly feels disgusting. He forced you into this. Even if he wasn't completely conscious. He should tell you to stop, but he doesn't want to. Is it so wrong to want a little more? “I…I-” He stutters. “Come- come inside~” If he can't have you, maybe he can have a part of you.

You kiss his cheek. “Of course.” You come inside of him only moments later. It feels like he forced it out of you. You look at him with an exhausted but happy expression before passing out on top of him. He doesn't try to move you.

You slowly wake up. You look around the room and notice a stain on the floor that you didn't notice before. And your bedsheets seem to be different too. You also feel a little strange. Refreshed, but strange. You get up and leave the guest room. You can smell coffee so you go down to the kitchen. “You're up pretty early. Don't you usually sleep in on Tuesdays?”

Simeon shrugs, not looking at you. “I felt like getting up early today.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything today. Maybe I’ll make breakfast this time?”

“It's okay. I’ll make it.”

“If you insist.” You know you can't convince him otherwise. “I wanna do something for you though. You deserve a gift.”

“Protecting my town is more than enough.”

“You’ll never change, huh?” You chuckle. “You know, the bed sheets look different from last night. Am I crazy?”

Simeon breaks the mug in his hand. You shoot up from your chair and rush over to him.

“I- I’m okay.” Simeon heals himself. “There wasn't anything in it yet.” 

“Good. You…seem weird today.” You notice he's not making eye contact with you.

“I..” He presses his forehead onto your chest and frowns, tears forming in his eyes. “I did something horrible last night.”

“What do you mean?” You bring him into a hug and gently rub his back to comfort him.

“Please…please don't hate me.”

“How could I hate you?”

“Last night…something strange came over me. I wasn't fully in control of myself and I forced you to…to..” He begins to sob.

“Simeon?” You ask, concerned.

“I forced you to have intercourse with me!” He blurts out, pulling away from you. He turns around and doesn't look at you.

You pause. “It must’ve been the work of a demon. It's okay, it's not your fault. It wasn't my ‘first time’ but…was it yours?”

Simeon’s eyes widen. “That wasn't your first?”

“No.”

He bites down on his nail. “When?”

“Um…maybe a decade ago?”

“Before you became a knight? And you haven't since then?”

“...Yes.” You assume he's uncomfortable due to his beliefs.

Simeon sighs. You were ‘reborn’ during your ceremony so you’re technically a virgin but you still have the experience. “Are you going to remain celibate?”

“I…well, I hope to find someone in the future. To marry, of course.”

“Oh.” He clenches his fist. “Do you have anyone you’re interested in?”

“I suppose I’ve caught a liking to Solomon, he—”

Simeon whips his head around. The look in his eyes is scary. “No.” He grabs your shirt. “No. You can't. You can't leave me.”

“Simeon?” You look at him in disbelief.

“I…I’m not letting you leave.”

Simeon looks at you sleeping peacefully on his bed. He isn't sure how, but he caused you to pass out and he was able to carry you here. He didn't even break a sweat. Due to a holy knight’s ability to neutralize certain forms of demon magic, Simeon is sure he isn't using that as you would've been fine if he was. But that leaves more questions to be answered.

He slides his hand down to his lower stomach and touches the glowing blue mark on his womb. It hasn't gone away. What is it? If it's not demonic then is it holy? How could this be holy?

He gently caresses your face. “I’m sorry, but I can't allow you to leave.”

You’ll be missed in the order of the holy knights but no one will worry when Simeon tells everyone he has bigger plans for you.