#noncon ment

[televisionenjoyer]

thank u for ur post as a victim of all 3 just want to say i appreciate you and everyone who speaks as someone who can't talk about it at all mwah

i get this so so much. it's been 9 years since I was sexually abused and I still can't tell my mom. The first time I ever snapped about it on this site is when an ao3 board candidate proposed censoring cp and noncon and people acted like it was the end of the world. And it sucked that I couldn't open up until people told me to suck it up and stop being a baby, because there were so many years where I couldn't even rationalize what had happened to me, felt like it was somehow my fault, thought I should just forget about it, that it should be simple.

Honestly the lack of empathy for victims on this site? especially for those who are still in that period of acceptance and learning how to live with it (as if the process ever stops, I say) is so infuriating. To have someone who has never been through it tell you how you're supposed to cope? That you should just shut up and let others enjoy whatever they want?, GOD it fills me with rage. It's horrible. I wish I didn't feel this infuriated.

I'm so sorry this happened to you. I couldn't possibly understand the extent of it but I try my best to comprehend it from my place. I'm glad you felt seen and I hope it makes even the tiniest difference for someone on this site.

[blue-phoria-archived]

Heck yeah it's gross and problematic - I'm sure the characters would agree with you if they were real - I ain't writing it for the em to be having a good time lol - it's called conflict and stakes

Ao3 authors, please learn to not insult people and be “morally superior” in the tags

Instead of tagging “noncon is gross” or “not noncon because that’s problematic”, for example, just put “enthusiastic consent” or “consensual sex” in the tags. It makes things a whole lot easier for people to filter and know what’s going on.

I really don’t care that you think noncon fics are bad or whatever, I (and many others) will be more likely to read your fic about two boys who are deeply in love if you aren’t an ass about your morals in fiction :/

[darkfalcone]

💌 - Stealing toxic post-rescue Nat’s drugs and booze and getting rid of it because you’re trying to push her to get better <3 and then letting her take her anger out on you and abuse you when she’s going through withdrawals because of it <3 ahahhahavsndndnfjgkcjxjhbtntngmgkktnxnsjdkfmsmmsdjdhsh

HNGGGGGG SOWHEOSHSIEN LISTEN. SHe would be so fucking mean too. Her hitting you and blaming you for it, choking you and making you beg to stop and she doesn’t, her fucking you and it’s rough, and a little too rough to the point where it hurts, but she reminds you that you caused this. That she needs to get her mind off things so she’s going to use you until she doesn’t need to. And when she calms down after hours of just hurting you, she kisses your forehead/the back of your head and tells you she loves you when you’ve passed out.

[undead-discourse]

so i’ve recently became more proship and have been reading darker fiction without lying to myself about why. some of it? kinda hot. i’d like to also note that i can’t write dark smut at all. i’ve written exactly two dark fics, one was cannibalism eternal hunger horror which i never finished bcs i orphaned every work on that ao3 act, the other was a non-con fic focused on the trauma and unhappy ending, it was not an erotica thing at all. i find it a little amusing because yeah i’ll read the most heinous smut known to man twice over but writing it??? i’m incapable it’s vanilla tender love-so-strong-our-souls-are-holding-hands type fics.

.

[coulsonlives]

Person: "I don't mind what people ship"

Person: *goes on page-long rant full of capslock about how a fandom exploded with noncon shippers in that same post*

Methinks you're in the wrong fandom, fam

[dark-konohagakure2]

imagine succubus!reader lurking in the phantomhive manor to find a victim for the night cause a succubus gets their energy if they take control but ends up getting caught and noncon-ed by sebastian until she cant take it anymore and begs to stop

UGHHH I HAVE BEEN STUCK WITH THIS IDEA SINCE THE DAY I IMAGINED IT 😭😭 petition for more succubus!reader fics 😔

tw: noncon, succubus!reader, size difference, tail pulling, rough sex, overstimulation, humiliation, creampie

All characters depicted are 18+

Sebastian takes his duties as the butler of the Phantomhive household very seriously, so seriously in fact that he doesn't ever sleep, mainly because demons don't need to sleep, but the fact still remains that there is no butler more diligent than Sebastian. His keen senses are able to pick up on the smallest of noises, even the faintest creak of the floorboards won't escape his notice. If a pin dropping doesn't go unnoticed by Sebastian, then there is no way in hell that he won't notice the presence of another hellish entity in his midst.

He is equal parts intrigued and concerned. Sebastian knows he can effortlessly dispatch any threat towards his master, bit even so the thought of another demon being after him is quite concerning. Never one to waste his time dwelling on any worries he might have, Sebastian will quickly do his part as a butler by apprehending the uninvited guest.

It's comically easy for Sebastian, he's not called a devil of a butler for nothing, he's able to use his superior strength to yank the little demon over to him when she's unaware, grabbing her by the pointy tail, which makes her hiss out in pain like a cat. Sebastian likes cats, even the ones with claws, but he sadly can't pet her, not when she's been such a bad girl as to even attempt to endanger his master.

Sebastian knows precisely how to deal with a naughty little succubus like herself, her kind feed off the sexual energy and desires of men, so he'll give her exactly what every succubus wants, he'll give it to her until she's begging him to stop. It's a fitting punishment for the demonic intruder, and it finally gives Sebastian the opportunity to stop feigning his humanity, even if just for a short while.

"Naughty thing, did you truly believe you could intrude oh my master's property without consequence? Oh how adorable~ I'll be sure to give you something to remember before sending you back to our home~"

His eyes are glowing unabashedly now, the glowing red orbs now having a feral intensity to them as he starts teasing the lesser demon, yanking on her tail roughly as he exposes her holes to his hellish gaze, teasing her sensitive pussy lips mercilessly before he decides to have his fill of her. Sebastian hasn't had a good fuck in a while, and certainly never with another demon that was aware of his true nature, so he's going to savor this rare treat.

Being centuries old, Sebastian is well versed in the art of making somebody come undone around his cock, whether they want to or not. His hips will slam against her from behind, his balls slapping against his ass while he fucks her raw, pulling on her tail like a bully pulling on the braids of a girl he likes. Sebastian's cock is long and thick, even in his human form, so it'll ram against her oversensitive womb with every thrust, forcing her into one mind breaking orgasm after the other.

Demons typically can't reproduce with one another, so Sebastian can cum inside of her to his heart's content without a care in the world, and he won't be satisfied with cumming inside of her just once, he's going to breed her until she's begging him to stop, and for hours after that too. It won't take long for her to go from confident and rude to whining and pleading with him to show mercy, but nothing will come of those pleas aside from her receiving even more mockery and even more loads shot into her already overstuffed womb.

He finds her reactions and pleading to be both adorable and pitiful, not to mention ironic; a creature who feeds off of sex now begging him to stop fucking her, her impish pussy overflowing with cum and weakly gripping his cock, fucked loose from the brutal pounding she's getting. He definitely won't be stopping anymore despite her pleas, after all, lesser demons make lovely fucktoys.

"Oh my~ begging already, little one? How sad, your kind usually loves getting ravished so, you truly are a disgrace from all demonkind~! How cute~!"

But alas, he can't keep this adorable little kitten as a house pet as much as he wants to, his young master would never allow such a thing, but Sebastian takes pride in the fact that he successfully subdued another interloper, and she won't mess with him again, that is unless she wants her holes destroyed again.

[pixiethymetime]

Ah, I figured it was from Re:Connect. I haven’t seen that game since I was a teen so I don’t remember a whole lot of what happens there. I’ve only recently gotten back into yaoi and interacting in fandom spaces again, so I appreciate you catching me up to speed!

But also

Hi! You reblogged my shityy meme about Ren’s route (thank you btw) I just have one question:

What the fuck do you mean Virus puts Aoba in a box.

Youre so welcome, it was hilarious. I looooove my puppy doggy Ren

Also oh! Oh well. Well you see. In dmmd re:connect both Trip and Virus get their own post endings where they kidnap Aoba and torture him in a foreign country in the countryside away from prying eyes.

Spoilers for those routes, obviously. The two of them take turns with Aoba either choosing for him or letting him choose who he stays with. They keep him chained up when they aren't at home, and then play with him when they are.

Its not explicitly stated but it is HEAVILY IMPLIED that they do this in order to pull Sly Blue back to consciousness because they like him better. Virus locks him in a box in his en suite bathroom of his room. Trip force feeds him sugary sweets and uses them as lube. They both force their allmates on him, alone or both at once. And thats just what they show us on screen.

Its my favorite routes, its classic yaoi visual novel kidnapping and mafia non con, its visually stunning with the stark black and whites of their bedrooms and Aoba's bright blue hair and soft skin! Def recommend if youre into that

[darkfalcone]

On my period so I can’t be held accountable but jackieshauna in the Wilderness who realize you do t get your period like they and everyone else did.

Jackieshauna who come to the conclusion that you’ve been bred by someone that’s not them before the crash. You won’t tell them who. They’re angry, and because they’re angry they decide that you have to play a game with them.

Jackieshauna who give you a day to get lost in the Wilderness, hungry like them but desperate not to be caught. What would they do if they found you? Kill you and feast odd your carcass like a feral dog with nothing but instinct to run on?

No — they didn’t think your death is what they’d desire. Lottie doesn’t think so either. When the sun gives way to the moon, they seek you out. Jackie is the better tracker between them, laughing coldly at your attempts to cover your path before she and Shauna realize you give up about two hours in.

You know they’ll find you.

Jackieshauna who do find you — a scared little thing curled up beneath a log as a poorly hiding place, eyes reflecting the moonlight that betrays you. They aren’t gentle as they rip you out of it, pinning you to the snow with Shauna’s hand blocking your abdomen from hitting the surface. Your face doesn’t get the same treatment.

“Little rabbit ran far but didn’t hide well,” Shauna taunts above you, a fake crooning echoed in her tone as Jackie begins to pull down your pants.

“You should’ve told us who bent you over before we had to come to this, Bunny,” Jackie added, fingers brushing the back of your thighs. Then they turned into an iron grip, “so that we could have dealt with them.”

You whined, which had an effect on Shauna. The brutal butcher grabbed your chin and forced you to look up. When your vision came into focus, you saw that look. The Shauna Fucking Shipman look of disgust.

“Who was it?” she asked.

You made garbled noises in answer. She smirked.

“Jackie.”

“Mm.” The redhead behind you jerked your legs back, and you suddenly were rearranged, legs curled in her lap and ass up. It was so cold but your skin burned hot anyway. “Tell her, baby. Quickly — so we can get this over with.”

“Now,” Shauna snarls.

May or may not post the whole fic 👹

Listen. I started my period today so my thoughts are FERAL right now and GODDDDD PLEASE POST THE WHOLE FIC I NEED IT.

They would be so angry and rough with you - the fact that you let someone else have what was supposed to be theirs- 🫠🫣 goddddd

[cepheusgalaxy]

"It's everything I'm really good at and all I know how to do" (Line from Use Me Up by Paranoid DJ)

Living weapon/Guard Dog whumpee & sexual slave/Romantic Whumpee. They're friends. None of them has a pleasant personality

[b1mbodoll]

it’s me i’m the kitty won enjoyer i think i actually need to be chained up when im ovulating i cant do this anymore 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 kittywon and baby trapping……… its like you read my mind i could kiss ur brain 🩵

pairings: yang jungwon x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + barbed cock! won + dacryphilia + babytrapping (baby referred to as his kitten) + noncon + pregnancy ment + lactation

💌: NO UR SO REAL… we r ovulation twins like this is TOO MUCH!!!! free us!!!!!!! anyway enjoy this quick thought hehehhmmfmenfnf

kitty! jungwon is a clueless little thing and doesn’t realize that humans don’t have heats like female hybrids.. doesn’t know that human cunts weren’t exactly made for taking hybrid cocks either.

that’s why he simply licks away your tears as he pounds your poor pussy, his barbed cock is long and thick, stretching your hole so much it hurts, pained sobs and garbled cries of his name the only noises you’re able to make.

wonie’s so eager to breed you; wants to cream your cunt and knock you up, desperate to see you carrying his kittens and feel your tits, heavy with milk and leaking at the smallest amount of pressure.

his thrusts are brutal and relentless, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, wet plap, plap, plaps as he rearranges your insides, inner walls wrapped around his cock like a vice; almost as if you don’t want him anywhere but inside of you, sucking his length deeper and deeper, spasming due to the spiked feel.

painful pleasure is wiped from your mind and fear is the only feeling you can focus on as jungwon’s pace turns sloppy and his breathy yowls warn you of his impending orgasm. “wonie.. jungwon! stop, pull out, please. pullout, pullout, pull-“

it’s like he can’t hear you, despite the way his furry ears twitch and his tail thrashes wildly, and you can do nothing but lay there and take it, his cockhead piercing your womb and flooding it with hot, sticky cum, making you wince when he grinds his hips, the thought of making it stick clouding his kittybrain.

he begins to purr, wrapping his tail around your thigh as a content smile makes its way onto jungwon’s lips. “‘m gonna make you a mommy.”

[ningvory]

secret — julie han

CW: noncon/dubcon, g!p julie, julie’s a perv, manipulation, corruption, naïve reader, unnie kink, creampie, mentions of natty in the end, not proofread, this is rushed so apologies in advance! 🙏

word count: 1.3k

anon ask? yes!

you’ve been a trainee for just over three years by now and you’ve been striving for your dream of becoming an idol for years.

you’ve been transferred to different companies in hopes of being able to debut with a few other girls but it never happened. so you joined S2 just after they debuted their most recent gg, kiss of life in hopes of debuting in their next group or even becoming a soloist. i mean, you’ve got the voice and and you can put on a show so yea, really could.

ever since you switched over to S2, you’ve gotten more sharper with your moves and worked on your dance technique. it was known to the other trainee’s that you were definitely going to debut sooner or later under S2, even you knew yourself. everyone knew you were the favorite trainee to the trainers. you caught everyone’s eye, rather it was your looks or your talent. you even managed to catch a special someone’s eye.

but what you didn’t expect was for the company to just add you in a already established group. especially since they were starting to get ready for their long anticipated comeback. S2 had long thought about adding a new member to the group and they decided that you were the only one that they picked to be the added member to the group. plus, the girls even agreed to it too, especially the eldest of the four, julie.

when it was time to meet, you all actually got along really wel! you were now the middle child in the group, being an 03 liner, you were younger than julie and natty but older than belle and haneul. it’s like you were ment to be in the group the whole time.

song recording went really good, you got plenty of compliments from the producers and composers. saying how great you sounded with just raw vocals and that you should’ve been debuted, making your cheeks hurt from all the cheesing you were doing in the studio.

now it was the time to learn the choreo itself, and let’s just say, they had you damn near breaking your back in a few moves to make it more visually pleasing to the eye. you decided to wear a crop top that barely did anything to cover you up with pink sweats. you didn’t wanna wear something that you’ll get hot in immediately, not thinking that it’ll be a bother to anyone.

but oh julie, all hot and bothered, trying to hide her boner from you all and the choreographer. it was so wrong she kept telling herself, watching how you were practicing the hip move in the chorus section of the song. so wrong and sick of her to just shamelessly stare at your tits and your ass, fantasizing about how your ass would smack against her tummy from her forceful thrusts to your cunt. but she just can’t help herself…you’re just so cute to her, and so…fuckable, how can she not? her daydreaming got too much for her she had to go excuse herself to the bathroom and relieve herself from her painful erection.

for the past few days you all had multiple group practices to make sure everything looked eye catching and synchronized. which of course, it did. but the more dance practices, the more confident you got with your moves, especially the more sexier moves, which did nothing to help julie’s raging boner.

she almost always was daydreaming, making you tap her and ask if everything was alright which seemed to break her out of the dream.

“julie unnie? is everything alright?” you asked her with a soft tone, looking directly in her eyes with doe eyes. fuck. she was caught, and she swears you’re doing it on purpose.

but what was she supposed to say to that? ‘yea i was just fantasizing about you riding me while i play with your tits.’ but she gained composure, “yea! don’t worry about me, got lost in my thoughts,” she gave a small smile, reassuring you as you nod your head and continued practicing. if only you knew you were the only thing on her mind.

since she was the leader, she had to monitor the four of you dancing. making sure there’s no mistakes, you all did amazing but julie payed the most attention to you. not because you were the newest member of the group, but because you were just so mesmerizing. each sway of your hips and bounce of your tits had julie left in a trance that she didn’t want to break out of, she had it bad for you and everyone could tell except for you.

you all lost track of time and it was far time to go. but you still wanted to practice, ignoring the fact your body was exhausted. which julie took for the perfect opportunity.

you wanted you moves to be basically flawless, being the newest member to an already established group meant there was a lot of eyes on you. julie took this opportunity and stayed with you.

“thanks for staying, unnie! you really didn’t have t—,”you went to say but was cut off by julie pushing you to the ground.

“see what you’ve done to unnie, baby? swear you’re doing this shit on purpose.” she groaned, getting ontop on your shocked body, pinning your arms beside your head with a tight grip.

“wh—wha? unnie, get off me!” you shouted a little to loud, making her remove a hand to cover your mouth.

“fuck..don’t cry baby. do this for unnie ‘kay? you’ll be good for unnie, right?” julie shushed you, pulling your sweats and panties down, before undoing her pants and her boxers.

she wasted no more time, plunging into you. head swinging back from the pleasure, biting her lip to conceal her moans.

“u-unnie—stop! d-don’ ‘wan it! please—!” your poor lil cunt s’not use to being filled all the way up! tears begin to fall down your face, trying to push her away and shoving at her with you hands.

“stupid slut, take all i give you—fuck!—you cryin’ f’me to stop but your cunt is suckin’ me all in.” she grunts, bullying her thick cock inside your lil cunt. she’s pounding into you anomalistically, she’s lost her composure to try and hold herself back.

she lifts your tight shirt up and pulls your bra down to play with your tits. she groped and pinched you nipples, making you squeak out. more tears falling down.

“all your damn crying isn’t gonna make me stop, baby.” she stays before moving her hands down to pinch your clit.

“don’t even think about telling the others, they won’t believe you, stupid whore.” she snarks, balls slapping against your ass from the quick pace she’s going.

“shit—g’na cum. and you’re gonna take it all!” her thrusts become sloppy, before she fills your cunt up with her thick spurts of cum.

when you feel her fill you up, you felt your body begin to shake. before letting out a loud whine, cumming aggressively on her cock still inside you!

she slowly pulls out, pressing down on your tummy to see her cum begin to spill out, making you whimper. the tingling sensation of her pulling out of your cum covered cunt has you quivering.

once you got home and took a long shower, you went to tell the second eldest, natty. telling her what your leader did to you but she just laughs in your face. telling you that you shouldn’t have been teasing her. but poor you, natty’s no better than julie! she waits till your sleeping and uses your tired body for her own pleasure! waking you up from your sleep and filling you up with her cock! before telling your sleepy self that you better get used to being their personal fucktoy cuz their gonna use you for their own pleasure, not caring if you cum or not! :((

[glimmeringtwilight]

Gilded Cage (Part Three)

ok. i'm not going to try to come up with a clever name for this one, this is just. part three. please send an ask or a DM if I missed any CW's! been a while.

Pairing(s): Dottore/Reader, Pantalone/Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

CW: NSFW, drugging (painkillers and other ment), rough sex, biting, threats of mutilation (mild. but it's Dottore), yandere themes, noncon/dubcon, AFAB reader, overstimulation, humiliation

Dottore has been on edge lately. 

You can tell. You can see it in his jaw when he’s sedating you as you lie on the operating table, eyes burning and dark as he stares through you at something presumably only he can see. You can see it in the way his hand sometimes twitches slightly– which bodes terribly for you– as he makes a small incision into your thigh, or your stomach, or your arm.

Most of the time, you think he just cuts into you simply because he can. Because he likes to watch the blood welling from the wound, dripping down your skin. He’s been doing it a lot more lately, sometimes forgetting to sedate you, sometimes forgetting to give you something for the pain, sometimes cutting too deep.

It feels like there’s a storm brewing that you can’t see; curtains drawn so you can’t look out the window and see the magnitude, brace yourself for wind or rain.  

His clones seem to be affected by it, too; usually it’s only ever the younger clones of his that lash out, but even the supposedly older ones are starting to show signs of agitation. You haven’t seen the same test subject twice in what feels like weeks. All of them seem to enter and leave the lab only once– something that should horrify you more than it does, whenever you watch them wheeling the covered bodies past. 

It’s this way for weeks. Dottore stalks around his lab like a harbinger of death, practically oozing poison and malice despite the deceptively calm mask he dons. 

You find out what it is that’s been agitating him when he opens the door to your cell one morning. Not a clone. Not the occasional trembling Fatuus. Him. His eyes burn into you. You can’t make out the emotion in them, but the complete coolness in his expression makes your stomach sink. You wonder, briefly, if he’s going to finally kill you– would that be a mercy, at this point? Killing you? Perhaps not. Knowing him, he’d draw it out. Make it hurt. 

Still, despite the terror that curls its fingers around your throat, you follow him quietly out of the cell and into the lab, staring at the back of his head as you walk and wishing you could read minds so you could at least brace yourself for whatever this is.

The two of you enter the lab and you finally realize what it is that’s crawled under Dottore’s skin, sat at the desk in the corner as though he’s not terribly out of place in the sterile environment. 

Pantalone sits comfortably in one of the chairs near the desk Dottore rarely seems to use, smiling as though he’s received a warm welcome and a parade. Dottore, meanwhile, looks palpably annoyed as he strides past the banker and takes a seat behind the desk, motioning for you to follow. 

It’s… Intensely uncomfortable, to say the least. You rarely find yourself sitting at Dottore’s desk, considering the doctor usually prefers to be conducting experiments rather than sitting and compiling data; he usually delegates that to his clones, who bitch and moan about the boring task. 

So sitting in a chair, next to the two men who’ve each held you captive at different points, as Dottore practically radiates anger… You don’t know what to do. You fold your hands in your lap, avoiding looking at either one, even as you can feel the two of them just… staring. 

You feel like you’re under a microscope, worse than any other time before when you’d been laid out on the operating table under Dottore’s invasive prodding.

Pantalone speaks first, breaking the charged silence. 

“I take it you don’t mind if I verify that this one’s real,” He says, rising from his chair and smiling at the way Dottore visibly bristles. “After all, I’m paying for this, aren’t I? I deserve that much.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about you, and the demeaning way in which he’s referring to you as though you’re some object that might be counterfeit is both unnerving and irritating. You’re careful not to let it show on your face as Pantalone approaches you. 

“What-” You start to ask, but you’re swiftly interrupted by gloved fingers prying open your mouth, prodding around in search of something that isn’t there. You feel them press down on your tongue, ghost over molars, then press against the back of your throat until you gag. 

Somewhat satisfied, the banker pulls his fingers from your mouth and grips your chin firmly with a now-damp glove, turning your head this way and that and ignoring the obvious discomfort painted on your features as the action smears drool on your skin. What is he doing?

You shoot a glance towards Dottore, who is still just watching. He’s obviously pissed– you can see a vein popping in his forehead, belaying his anger on his otherwise blank face. 

Pantalone lets go of your chin in favor of grabbing you by the arms, pulling you up from your chair and motioning for you to spin around in a circle. You do, though you’re still confused, unsure of what’s happening as the banker seems to be appraising you like a precious gem. It’s a different type of poking and prodding than Dottore’s usual tests and checkups, but it’s invasive nonetheless. It’s doubly unsettling that this is the first time you’ve seen the banker without his usual smarmy smile. 

Hands find your shoulders and stop you again, and you bristle when they trace the curve of your spine, exposed thanks to the open back of the hospital gown. You feel them stop, tap something just to the left of one of your vertebrae, and Pantalone spins you back around to face him, clearly pleased. 

You try not to flinch when he takes a lock of your hair in his hands– it’s gotten so long since you’d been brought back to the lab– and brings it closer to his face. His nose crinkles, palpable disgust on his features, and he mutters something about “that vile soap he makes you use”– likely referring to Dottore– before turning around to face the man in question. 

“Are you done ogling?” Dottore asks, his tone clipped. You can’t see him around the banker, but you’re sure he still looks as pissed as before. 

Pantalone tilts his head slightly, smiling, then glances over his shoulder at you. “Perhaps not yet, but I’m satisfied enough for now. You’ll get the funding for your little… project, and I expect to see this one at my doorstep every other month from now on.”

Every other month? You frown. Is this some sort of… custody arrangement that the two men worked out? You don’t know if you want to laugh or not at the absurdity of it all; like you’re the unfortunate child of two divorced bastards, except this is much, much worse.

“Fine,” Dottore grits out, in a tone that suggests it’s anything but. He gets up to shoo the banker out of his lab, but Pantalone merely tuts and makes his way back over to where you’re standing, confused, and rests one hand heavily on your shoulder.

“One month starting today, of course,” Pantalone continues, “It’s only fair, after all, when you’ve been hoarding my poor pet this whole time. I have to make up for lost time, after all.”

He delivers those words with a smile that only seems to irritate Dottore further, red eyes boring holes into him as Dottore visibly seems to be contemplating murder. Pantalone speaks up again before he does anything, however, offering a hollow consolation: “Of course, I’m not cruel. How about a farewell? A parting gift, to… tide you over while they’re gone?”

You don’t like the sound of that, and Dottore seems to pick up on the banker’s suggestion as you’re spun around once more and ushered towards the exam table you’ve become intimately familiar with for the last several months. 

For this supposedly being Dottore’s “parting gift,” Pantalone is awfully remiss to keep his hands– and commentary– to himself. 

“Ah, what a cute noise that was,” You hear him coo, a finger tapping your nose with just enough force to startle you so you flinch, “Don’t you think you’re being a bit rough though, Doctor?”

“Quiet.”

You jostle against the table, gripping the edge of it for support as hips snap into yours with bruising force. Dottore’s fingers are gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises– that’s probably the point, honestly; he’s fucking you like he intends for you to feel it for the entire month you’ll be absent. 

Pantalone’s comments aren’t helping things either; despite the banker’s comment about roughness, it only seems to have encouraged the doctor to go even harder. 

Thankfully, you were given something for the pain, but not from Dottore. Pantalone had pressed a pill into your gasping mouth when Dottore had started, telling you that you were going to need it, and though swallowing was a struggle, you’re glad he did. 

Dull pain and sharp pleasure mingle together, and you’ve long since lost track of the orgasms that have been dragged out of you. You’re starting to numb, honestly, overstimulation bleeding into pain, and you gasp into the table with every sharp thrust into you. 

“Tsk– don’t pass out now,” Pantalone chides, fingers curling around your jaw and biting into your cheeks when your eyes threaten to flutter shut, and Dottore snarls something about cutting your spinal cord if you do; something you sincerely hope is an empty threat, given the black spots dancing in your vision. “You still have another thirty minutes to go.”

You don’t remember there being a timer set, much less a time limit, but you certainly know you can’t last that much longer. Your knees have already long since given out, and Dottore had to hoist you up further onto the table so he could continue, leaving your feet dangling a few inches above the ground. 

You feel weight against your back, heat, smothering you as Dottore leans down to sink his teeth into your shoulder as he spills inside you once more, and you shudder through another weak orgasm in response, your eyes rolling back and your vision blacking out for several long moments. 

Pantalone shakes you back awake before you can slip too far, and you sob as Dottore starts to move again. You already know that you won’t be able to walk for the next few days, if not for the next week. 

Tears blur your vision, the world spinning around you as a gloved hand comes to rest against your head, petting you in what’s likely intended as a comforting gesture but only seems to frazzle you further, overwhelmed and overstimulated as you are. 

It must be Pantalone, because Dottore lets out an irritated noise, sinking his teeth into your skin to leave a new mark as he resumes the harsh pace he’d set earlier. Another hand, this one not gloved, curls around your throat to dig two fingers into your racing pulse as he tries to engrave himself into your flesh through means slightly less violent than cutting you open. 

You can barely keep track of who’s doing what– your vision is too blurred and you’re too far gone to fully piece together a coherent thought before it and the breath are knocked out of you by another snap of Dottore’s hips. One of them reaches down to rub circles into sensitive nerves, and you sob as another climax is ripped unwillingly out of you. 

You black out for longer this time, shaken awake once more by Pantalone. He’s cooing something at you that you can’t make out, drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the sound of Dottore’s ragged breaths mixing in with your own. 

It feels like you’re burning up, shivering weakly under Dottore’s crushing weight as the man seems to be pouring every ounce of frustration into his thrusts, and darkness encroaches on the corners of your vision with every movement. 

Another shuddering orgasm. You twitch weakly through it, your body registering the sensation more than your mind does. 

The world seems to tip, swaying like a vessel rocked by choppy waves before finally capsizing. Your vision goes, and you’re pulled into a sea of static. 

It smells like lilacs. 

It’s the first thing you notice when you slowly come to, a stark contrast to the smell of bleach and copper that you’ve become accustomed to. You’re also dressed in some proper clothes– or rather, ”proper,” compared to the usual paper-thin hospital gowns you’ve worn since being brought back to the lab. 

Opening your eyes, you’re greeted with the familiar luxuries you remember seeing when you were last in Pantalone’s care, and the sight would nearly be a relief if consciousness didn’t bring with it the unbearable ache in every inch of your body. There’s a budding headache building behind your temples, stinging pains from various bites and bruises littering your skin like brands.

It aches most between your legs, but there’s an ache in your thighs and your stomach like you’d pulled every muscle within; you probably did, honestly, but you try to push back the memory invading your thoughts and you sit up in bed. 

“You’re awake,” A silky voice drawls from behind you just as you sit up, and you turn around to see Pantalone sitting in an armchair in the corner, one leg folded over the other as he reads a book. He doesn’t look up as he addresses you; he just pats his knee, indicating he expects you to come to him. You’re not sure you can walk…

Climbing out of the soft bed hurts, various muscles protesting the movement, and you’re not surprised when your knees give out on you the second you rest your weight on your feet. Pantalone simpers at you from where he sits, amused, but he makes no move to help you stand up or walk. He just pats his thigh again, smiling at you. 

“I can’t walk,” Even talking hurts, evidenced by the crackling of your voice when you speak. 

“Then crawl.”

He says it so simply, as though you should have already known the answer. Your ears burn with humiliation. You don’t move.

“Don’t make me punish you on your first day back,” He says, setting his book down so he can properly address you. His tone is disappointed, but you don’t miss the way the bastard’s smile widens at the idea. 

Pantalone’s punishments aren’t nearly as severe as Dottore’s are, at least in terms of pain. Rather than physical punishments, he seems to prefer humiliation. You’re tempted to try your luck, but… everything hurts. You don’t want him to decide you haven’t earned the privilege of clothes– or find something equally humiliating and degrading– on top of the pain you’re already in.

Crawling hurts. Every muscle protests the movement, yet again, but you force yourself to ignore the aches, to ignore the humiliation burning beneath your skin at being made to crawl over to him. 

When you finally reach him you sit up unsteadily so you can climb into his lap, but you’re surprised when he stops you by pressing a gloved hand firmly against your head to keep you planted on your knees in front of him. 

Instead of addressing your confusion, Pantalone merely smiles and takes hold of your wrist, raising your arm to inspect the scars and bruises littering your skin from the months spent under Dottore’s care. His face twists with disgust, shifting into faux sympathy when he addresses you again, “Poor thing. Look what he’s done to you…”

His free hand comes to rest on his knee as he straightens up, uncrossing his legs, and you hear a steady tap tap tap as he drums his index finger against his knee thoughtfully. “Aren’t you glad I’ve brought you back from that wretched place?”

It’s a leading question. You know he expects you to answer correctly, and you get the sense he’s leading into something; a demand. “...Yes.”

“I knew you would be.” He says, dropping your wrist and leaning back comfortably in the armchair. He looks down at you, clearly pleased with the position you’re in. He props one elbow against the arm of the chair, resting his head in his hand as he smiles down at you. “Why don’t you be a good pet and show me just how appreciative you are?”

The implication isn’t lost on you, but whatever hope you’d had that he might mean something else is dashed as he spreads his legs slightly further apart to make room for you between them, and you don’t miss the growing bulge in his dress pants. 

Your hands are numb as you reach for his belt, and you barely flinch when his hand rests heavily against the back of your hand as you take him into your mouth. 

One cage for another. You’re not even sure you’re relieved, because every part of you still aches from the reminders Dottore had left you with. 

His hand presses against the back of your head, guiding you to take him further into your mouth, and you struggle to breathe around his length. You nearly gag as he pushes you down further, pushing back in resistance, and Pantalone clicks his tongue in disappointment but thankfully, lets up. Maybe he doesn’t want to ruin his pants. 

“I’ll get you something for the scarring,” He murmurs, fingers curling in your hair as you bob your head up and down his length. “And those garish bruises.”

Whether it’s an insult towards you or Dottore, you’re not sure. You try not to focus on it, instead focusing on the task at hand. You lave your tongue along the base of his shaft, earning a small shiver and a heady sigh from him. 

He’s silent for a few minutes as you continue to pleasure him, but you feel him boring holes into the top of your head. You don’t look up at him; you don’t want to. You’re trying to get this over with, and hoping that his silence means you’re doing well. 

The hand on the top of your head leaves, and you flinch when you feel him trace his fingers over one of the scabbed over bites left by Dottore, nearly biting down in surprise. You swallow, suppress the urge, resuming your pace even as he traces the outline of every bite left littered along your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders.

Pantalone straightens up a little, pressing his hand against the back of your head again to force you to take more than you already can. This time, he doesn’t relent when you push back, just holding his hand still until you stop whimpering and you manage to swallow back the urge to gag. 

“Hush.” He tells you in response to your muffled noises, groaning quietly at the way your throat vibrates around his cock.

You eventually relax, eventually get used to the feeling, and he lets you pull back slightly before he’s pressing down again, repeating until tears are spilling down your cheeks as you struggle not to reflexively bite down each time you gag slightly around his length. 

“How would you feel about something… permanent?” He asks, and his fingers are tracing the bites again. You try to pull back to answer, but his other hand stops you and he rocks his hips lazily into your mouth. A rhetorical, then; he doesn’t care for your answer.

You try to blink back your tears as you resume the pace you’d set, sucking lightly on his cock as his hand curls into your hair. It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying as his hand keeps threatening to force you down farther than you can take, and you’re focusing on stamping down the swelling nausea. 

“Something- hm-” He hums, and you can tell he’s getting close now, with the way his breathing is starting to deepen, his hand tightening its hold on your hair- “something tasteful. Not like those eyesores he leaves you. A collar is- fuck- too… too easy to remove.”

You don’t like where this is going, but humming your dissent only earns you a pleasured hiss and a rumble of praise spilling from his lips before he’s curling his fingers around the back of your neck. 

It’s the only warning you get before he shoves your head down, holding you there as cum spills into your mouth and down your throat. It takes everything in you to relax your jaw, and you pull back gasping and sputtering the second he relents.

By the time your vision clears and you blink back the tears spilling from your eyes, he’s already tucked himself back into his pants and is just watching you struggle to catch your breath. He doesn’t even comment on the mess of cum and drool that spilled from your lips onto the floor. 

It takes you a second to realize he’s not staring at you, but rather at the marks left on your skin. 

After a minute of tense silence, he smiles again, patting his lap this time in invitation for you to sit, and you ignore the familiar sting of humiliation as you obey. Again, one of his hands curls around the nape of your neck, tracing some pattern into your skin. 

“Right here,” He murmurs, though he doesn’t elaborate when your brows pinch together in confusion.

It takes you a second to realize he’s tracing invisible letters across your nape, then another few to realize it’s his name that he’s tracing into your skin. 

Something tells you that Dottore isn't going to be pleased to see you again at the end of the month.

[blue-phoria-archived]

@giallogigan

shampaean be like

Reblog if you like noncon, incest, or the secret third option (both at the same time) ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

[eddieandbird]

Waited for you—

You were suspicious of Patrick.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on my Art fic!! I am mostly an Art girly but Patrick has also affected me greatly, so enjoy this. - Bird

tags/warnings: smut | 2.3k words | f!reader x dom!patrick | pinv | rough | toxic relationship | slight noncon | choking | cheating ment | overstim

———

The night was painfully quiet as you sat on the kitchen island. You don’t know how long you sat there with your cheeks puffed in frustration and your legs kicking off the edge until you heard him come in through the garage.

“Where the hell have you been, Patrick? It’s one in the morning,” You said monotonously as he walked in with a look you couldn’t decipher.

“Don’t worry about it, babe,” He scoffed, not meeting your gaze, instead going to the fridge to get a beer.

In the four months you’ve been dating him, he’d never been this nonchalant which was concerning. You knew Patrick had a past of messy relationships, but he promised you were different. For the most part, he had kept to his word and hadn’t raised any concern, but the combination of his tardiness and unenthusiastic greeting made your mind wander.

“Patrick, I don’t like that answer,” You scolded, wrapping your arms around yourself to self-soothe. “Did you go see someone or something?”

Patrick grabbed a beer from the fridge and looked at you sitting on the island in your vulnerable state. He could see the insecurities running through your mind. He sighed to himself and closed the fridge, walking up to you and stood between your legs. His eyes took in every inch of your body.

“Look at me,” he commanded, placing a hand on your thigh.

You lifted your head for a moment, trying to absorb any tears that threatened to fall before looking down at him from the counter.

“Yes?” You asked, your voice shaky as you felt his hand soothingly rub your leg.

You played the nonchalant girlfriend for him like he wanted, but it never felt great. Especially when he so easily acted like you didn’t exist sometimes. He did care, some part of him did.

Patrick smirked a little seeing you look at him so vulnerably. He moved closer, standing so he pressed up against your legs.

“Stop shaking,” he said with a teasing tone, tilting your chin down with his fingers so you’d look at him fully.

“Are you really worried I was with someone else?” He asked, his voice becoming softer than before.

“Maybe,” You pouted, lightly kicking around him.

You wanted to trust Patrick, but your doubts were loud between your ears. He wasn’t making it any better when he was being vague about why he was gone all night. You were slightly annoyed seeing his expression.

He moved his hand up your thigh, his fingers inched under your shirt to rub your stomach.

“You really think I went to see another girl?” He asked further, chasing your gaze.

“I mean, what else would you be doing? You know I sat up and waited for you all night? Sorry if I was fucking worried about you,” You puffed up your cheeks.

“You really need to stop overthinking so much, babe. It’s late, you should’ve just gone to bed,”

You glared at him without a word.

“Fine, you really wanna know what I was doing?”

“Tell me,” You pleaded, placing your hands on his shoulders and squeezing them as he placed kisses all over your neck.

He pulled away from your neck momentarily and smirked as he saw the frown on your lips. He leaned close to your ear and whispered in a cocky tone. “I was out with the boys, babe.”

“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place, you jerk?” You grunted and rolled your eyes.

You were trying to be serious with Patrick, but that just wasn't his style. You’d often try to have these conversations but it ended with you looking foolish.

“You didn’t call or text me back. How was I supposed to know, huh?”

“You worry too much,”

His smirk softened as he saw your serious expression and heard your irritated tone. He knew you had a point. He moved closer again, his hands going around your waist and pulling you towards him.

“Aww, sorry I didn’t give you enough attention for one night, princess,” he teased, tracing soft patterns on your hips.

He knew how much you fretted over him going out with his friends, and normally he would humor you, but he was feeling a bit impatient tonight.

“Very funny,” sarcasm dripped from your voice.

It took everything in you not to push him away. You knew he deserved that, but you had been waiting to spend time with him all night. Instead you just held his arms, as if he’d run out on you any moment.

“You weren’t that scared, were you?” He raised his brow.

“More like I was so nervous about where you were, I could throw up,” You exhaled loudly.

He noticed your tight grip on his arms and tried to lighten up his tone further. He knew he needed to stop messing with you, at least for a moment.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry I scared you this much,” he mumbled, his fingers continuing to trace lines on your skin.

He leaned in and nuzzled his face into your neck, his lips finding their way to the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Next time, I’ll remember to call you,” he added against your skin.

“Thank you,” You grumbled, still a bit irritated that he’d been teasing you about this since he got home.

But as annoyed as you were, it didn’t stop your body from going warm wherever he kissed you. Your legs aimlessly kicked faster around him.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, baby,” You said sternly as if you weren’t enjoying this.

He chuckled against your skin, amused by your attempt at a stern tone.

“And what am I doing, sweetheart?” He whispered, his lips slowly trailing along your jawline.

He continued to tease and nibble on your skin, his hands making their way under your shirt and gently rubbing up and down your sides.

“If you think you’re getting lucky tonight, you’re out of your fucking mind,” You scoffed, pulling your neck away.

You gently grasped his wrists, pushing them away from you.

“I’m going to bed,” You announced.

Frustration got to his head as you pulled away from him.

“You’re not seriously going to bitch and be mad at me all night, are you?” He asked, his tone a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.

He stepped closer and slid his hands back to your thighs, gripping them firmly and forcing your legs around his waist. He leaned in close to your face and spoke in a low tone.

“You really think you’re going to deny me tonight?”

You stopped yourself from stumbling off the counter by propping yourself on your arms behind you.

“Patrick,” You warned.

Patrick kissed you deeply and hungrily, his tongue slipping into your mouth and exploring every inch. He could taste the sweet hint of the wine on your tongue as he ravaged your mouth. He pressed himself against you, his body trapping you against the counter.

He almost snapped your underwear as he roughly tugged it off your hips, giving you little time to lift your butt to let him drag it off your legs. Your breathing became erratic as he did this, your lips not leaving each others’ for even a second. The kisses became more desperate as he kneaded your hands into your thighs.

He finally broke the kiss and pulled away just enough to speak, his voice a low growl. "I want you so bad right now,"

You gasped as one of his hands journeyed around your hip, resting in front of your warm pussy. The heat radiating from it felt so inviting to him. You whimpered as his rough fingers circled around where you ached the most. Your eyes pleaded with him to stop.

Patrick then loosened the strings of his dark blue sweatpants, then tugged them down to his thighs, revealing his hard cock to you.

“Oh my god,” You whispered to yourself.

Patrick laughed devilishly. He loved the way you so desperately craved his touch, how your body reacted to his every move.

He got a strong satisfaction when you muttered to yourself. “You want it, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You trembled as you felt the cold counter shifting in temperature as you radiated onto it. You could feel yourself pooling out as you feast your eyes on him.

“Mhm,” You whimpered with a nod.

Every mewl that escaped your lips sent a jolt of electricity through his body, fueling his desire even more.

He leaned in close, his lips hovering just above your ear. "Say it," he said in a low, commanding tone.

Your desire to defy him fully fell away to the desire to have him.

“I want you, baby,” You said, your eyes magnetized to his throbbing length.

Choked moans escaped you. His hand explored you, lazily spreading you open for him to gaze upon your dripping center.

Patrick took himself into his hand, pumping into his fist for a moment. He made a show of it before he brought his length toward your inviting center. He continued the motion against you, slipping it past your folds with ease.

“Oh fuck,” You whined, one hand desperately clawing into his shoulder.

“Give me-“ Patrick’s actions were so erratic, he couldn’t complete his sentence before throwing your legs over his shoulders. His arm wrapped around the small of your back, bringing you toward him.

As soon as you felt him enter you, you both let out a strangled moan. Pleasure rained down on you, dousing any flames of anger or doubt you had.

“That’s it, baby,” You muttered, your forehead pressed to his.

Patrick's heart pounded in his chest as he held you against him, his arm wrapped securely around your back.

“You feel so good, babe,” he groaned, his lips brushing against yours.

For a few seconds, nothing could be heard but labored breaths and the rhythmic slapping of skin as he relentlessly pounded into you. Patrick having you on the kitchen island was an advantage, the height being perfect for him to fuck you. He sped up slightly, angling your hips where the entirety of him sunk into you with each thrust.

“Ah… Patrick,” You signaled to him that you wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

Patrick felt a wave of ecstasy wash over him as he heard you moan his name like that. He smirked a little at your cry, knowing you were close to the edge. However, he knew how much you could take, and he loved pushing you to the limit.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear once again. "You gonna come for me, sweetheart?"

“Yeah,” Your voice trembled, faltering with his relentless pounding.

Your eyes were heavy-lidded until he snaked a hand around your throat. He squeezed your trachea lightly as his hips crashed into you.

“Do it baby, I want you to come,” He demanded.

You gave a small nod, your eyes rolling up into your lids with a smile as he choked you. Patrick's eyes darkened with desire as he witnessed pure bliss wash over you. He squeezed harder on your throat as his hips crashed into you and felt your pulse quicken under his fingers.

You mushed your palm into his face as you were reaching your peak, a moan squeaked out of you as you did. Patrick smiled and scoffed before he shook his head to get your hand off him. You urgently tried to come back down from your high gently, but Patrick refused to let up.

“Patrick, I’m so sensitive!” You croaked, pushing him and trying to get him to stop.

Patrick smirked as he watched you struggle to come down from your high. He could see you were overly sensitive, your body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. He loved hearing you writhe and squirm beneath his touch, the sound of your moans and gasps only fueling his desire.

He ignored your pleas “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart,”

“Please, please, I can’t take it, I-“ You mindlessly stuttered.

“You can take it, baby. I wanna come too,” Patrick argued playfully, giving you a light smack on your jaw to have your attention return to him.

Your brows furrowed and your eyes glazed over as he kept on. However, you saw clear signs in his breathing that he would be done soon.

Even in the midst of the intensity, Patrick couldn’t help but notice the intense look in your eyes as you looked at him, silently begging him to finish and give you respite.

“Just a little longer, sweetheart,” he grunted.

He drew out hums from your mouth with each stroke. Patrick loved your pathetic noises. You felt your body going limp, your limbs bouncing around him as he continued to use you for his own pleasure.

“Baby,” you mumbled, trying to keep your eyes open.

Patrick's hips started to lose their rhythm as he was nearing his release. He was getting rougher with you, his movements growing more urgent as he chased his own pleasure. He loved seeing you like this, at his mercy and completely undone.

“You can take it, right baby?” He reiterated, his head turned to pepper kisses to your calves that surrounded him.

A few more deep strokes and then he slipped himself out. Without giving another thought to it, he gave his length a few more tugs and shot out all over your tshirt.

“Jesus, it’s all over my neck,” You breathlessly complained. “Patrick, I literally just took a shower before you got here,”

Patrick snorted as he saw the mess he had made on your shirt. He wasn't particularly concerned with your complaint, but he was amused.

He lazily tucked himself back into his sweatpants, his breathing still slightly ragged. He looked at you, a satisfied smile on his face.

"You'll be fine," he groaned. "Just take another one."

[thus-spoke-lo]

Sexy Scumbags Series // Crocodile x reader, Doflamingo x reader Masterlist // Prompt List

CW: afab!reader [no pronouns used]; toxic relationship dynamics, incl. reader cheating for attention [reader is a scumbag too!]; degradation [reader receiving] vaginal fingering; ment. of oral sex [m receiving] and unprotected vaginal sex; dubcon/noncon elements, incl. implied abduction/imprisonment [i.e. reader is going home with someone whether they like it or not] WC: 940

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, you know,” Doflamingo purrs, his long tongue leaving a warm, wet streak along your jaw.

“I know what I’m doing,” you reply, moaning softly as his hand settles on your thigh and squeezes it, harder and harder until you yelp.

Crocodile had been ignoring you for days, inattentive to your needs—or at least, not as attentive as you had come to expect and demand. He was consumed with preparing for this gathering, a meeting of the rich and the dangerous and the utterly insufferable (Doflamingo chief among them), and your copious wants and needs went largely unfulfilled. And as it went whenever Crocodile failed to make you feel as special as you thought you ought to feel as the darling of a warlord, you sought out satisfaction elsewhere—usually with a low-level lackey or some poor, confused Marine who thought it must have been his lucky day. But tonight, you hit the jackpot, catching the eye of the man that made Crocodile’s blood boil, a preening pleasure-seeker who wasted no time in pulling you into the nearest empty room once you had piqued his interest.

The door to the darkened lounge creaks open, a strip of light illuminating your transgressions, and you grin at Crocodile’s imposing shape looming in the doorway. “Are you trying to make me jealous, doll?”

You bite your lip and offer him a coy grin as you recline back against Doflamingo’s chest and let out a particularly wanton manufactured moan. “Depends—is it working?”

He doesn’t answer, only shakes his head and avoids your gaze in favor of glaring at Doflamingo, his eyes narrowing as he crosses the room and stands mere inches from the two of you. Crocodile already knows what he’ll find when he lifts the hem of your skirt with the sharp tip of his hook—Doflamingo’s motions aren’t exactly subtle and the lewd squelching sounds are hard to ignore—but he still growls and bites down on his cigar at the sight of Doflamingo’s long fingers lazily pumping in and out of your wet pussy.

Crocodile’s rising anger makes your heart pound and your hands tremble, your whole body grow warmer at the thought of what he’ll do to you later. You already can taste the pre-cum on his cock, hard and throbbing as he shoves it down your throat, tells you the only thing you should be using that smart mouth for is pleasing him. You can already feel the cool wood of his desk against your bare skin as he bends you over and ruts into you from behind, demanding that you tell him who owns you, who it is that you belong to. You can already feel the possessiveness and the love and the desire coursing through him as he pumps you full of his spend, and he growls mine into your ear, before he collapses on top of you and kisses away your tears of pleasure.

But Crocodile’s anger begins to fade, an eerie calmness settling over him, one you’ve never quite seen before. He smiles at you, not the way he always does before he kisses you and tells you that you���re trouble, that you’re a pain in the ass, and that he doesn’t know what he’d do without you—no, this is different, this is frightening. “Is this really what you want?”

“I guess it is since you won’t pay attention to me anymore,” you pout, squealing as Doflamingo shoves his hand up your blouse and pinches your nipple.

Crocodile closes his eyes for a moment, then smiles and lets out a low, long laugh. He places his hook under your chin and tilts your head up to look at him, then places a gentle, chaste kiss on your lips. “Have fun with your new friend, doll. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Doflamingo’s cackle echoes in the room as you watch Crocodile leave and close the door behind him. The panic begins to set in—he’s never left without you before. Sure, he gets loud and he gets mean for a moment, but he always punishes the man who dares to have a hand on his property, and leaves with you tucked under his arm or thrown over his shoulder, muttering all the ways he’s going to fuck some sense into when you get home. And he’s turned away, walked a few paces as though he’d abandon you but not this, never this.

You wrench yourself from Doflamingo’s grasp and start to race for the door, calling for him, begging and pleading through teary eyes to come back, that you’re so sorry, that you’ll do anything he asks if he’ll just take you home. As your hand reaches for the doorknob, there is a sudden feeling of ropes being tightened around your body, yanking you backwards; you land in Doflamingo’s lap with a huff, your back hitting his chest hard enough to almost knock the wind out of you.

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you, my pretty little bird,” he coos as he moves his fingers and tightens the strings around your midsection, pinning your arms to your sides.

“Like hell you will,” you grunt, straining against his string, feeling them start to cut into your flesh like razor blades the more you move. “He’ll come for me—he always does.”

“Not this time, he won’t.” He grabs your face in his large hand and turns it towards him, squeezing your cheeks until it feels like he’s hitting bone. “He doesn’t tend to like his toys back once I’ve broken them.”

[cepheusgalaxy]

Story Ideas that I need to elabroate eventually

Blonde Knight One: a lady knight swore loyalty to the crown, but after finding how vile and twisted her kingdom was, she swears loyalty to a tricksy witch and becomes her knight. The story follows the adventures of her and two magicians: a transgender sorcerer (she/her) called Adam (short for Adamite) who is very very cheesy and has a boosted ego, and her equally chaotic counterpart, a black trans bard called Eve who is way too flamboyant. The separated may be prime examples of magic casting, but together, they are so unhinged the knight's job is usually to keep them from getting them expelles from whatever kingdom they have a mission on. Based on random ideas from my daily life that somehow fit together, and Vibes.

Venera and [unnamed]: Venera is a russian lved in paranormal adventures with this nonbinary guy (clove motif) that has a more open and dumbass personality than him. They are a great contrast, but they work well together. Based on a design challenge.

The Chosen One: Victor is a chosen one hero from a prophecy in a fantasy world; he knows what his duty is, and hed be happy to comply, if there wasnt so much paperwork. Victor is supposed to slay The Dragon, but each time he gets close, he has to sign so much stuff and get so many appointments before getting close to actually killing it that hes in that for ages. Gabriel, on a fairly distant country, is a magician (he has his diplome) that uses his time helping passerbys and prophecy heroes that criss his path. He is quite poor and had a hard time paying for his magic scholarship, unlike his friend Toriel, a way wealthier magician. One day, Victor stumbles upon the bar where Gabriel usually hangs out, and after they meet, the three of them go in a mission to try and slay the dragon that has been terrorizing their kingdom for ages.

New one: Two freed slaves, a guard dog and a guy who was forced to do sex services, go on a journey together and the Romantic finds out he is actually a chosen one. And can fuel the power of The Seven Deadly Sins, that are the basis of the magic system on this world. Neither the guard dog nor the romantic have pleasant personalities, but now they'll have to save the world ^v^