#tw suggestion of noncon

[cupcakeslushie]

I know we don't know the exact extent of Kendra's abuse but i think you've implied that when she shows Donnie physical affection it isn't always innocent, like gently holding his face, that it goes a bit deeper and darker than that. And if April is the one Donnie latches onto in the aftermath would there ever be a moment where Donnie misinterprets a touch from April and she finds out that Kendra's abuse had an extra layer of fucked up? How would she respond to finding that out? Or would none of them ever find out the severity of Kendra's abuse

@finnbin yes! I see Donnie starts with having nose bleeds (those are always fun!), slurred speech, blurry vision, and once it gets to the worst, seizures. These are caused by a mix of his long time spent staring at the screen Kendra forced over his eyes, and pushing his ninpo past it limits. He keeps trying to draw power when that link to his family has been severed. And he even keeps it up once his family rescues him. The first time Donnie has a seizure is with his family and it scares the absolute shit out of them.

⚠️ Nothing super explicit, but I do discuss Kendra committing some pretty heavy ableism and icky non-con touching below. Click at your own risk to see!

Kendra does force Donnie to work and talk through his meltdowns, and even pushes him into being physical with her when he doesn’t want to. He’s conflicted, because the praise makes him happy, even the short touches are fine, but then the kissing starts—Kendra saying she’s just curious. Donnie doesn’t really care for it, but Kendra likes it enough to keep pushing that line. Donnie keeps his discomfort to himself.

When Donnie does get rescued, and April tells him he doesn’t have to keep making her things. Donnie’s heart stops. Because if not stuff, then does April want the same thing Kendra wanted? Should he just wait it out? But one day, there’s a moment where April can’t hide her exhaustion and frustration with everything. She starts to tear up, and Donnie just reacts and moves. April freezes, and asks Donnie why he would do something like that? Donnie is practically shaking apart. April starts crying even harder, and the brothers run in. Donnie tries to quickly stammer out an explanation. It clicks for the two eldest, Leo tells Mikey to get out butt it’s too late. The whole family knows.

[fxtalitygod]

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx

[yandere--stuck]

no need/pressure to respond to this, but with all the intestine stuff that keeps getting posted... along with stuff about ford (drool)... (all really good btw)... and maybe this is too gross/weird in which case DEFINITELY feel free to ignore this,, but i keep thinking about bill keeping you two alive while you pull each other's guts out, and then stuff the other person's guts inside of you... switching intestines... and then being sewn back together, permanently having a part of the other inside you now <3 very good to me. maybe ford is bigger than you so your belly bulges ever so slightly... - zag gore anon

God, that is genuinely so horrifying. I love it!!!

Imagine lying on your back as you recover - well, technically speaking. The scarring only hurts in a way that's sickeningly pleasurable, and Bill has (hopefully) made it so any wrong movements don't cause your Ford's guts to spill out of you.

You try to focus on anything else. The symbols carved along the roof and walls of the Fearamid, the muffled sound of music from the other room where all the Henchmaniacs have gathered to party, the feel of Ford nuzzling against you and pressing soft kisses to your face.

"Isn't this wonderful?" He asks, voice gruff. "I can feel you inside of me. Can you feel me?"

One of his hands brushes against your stomach and you resist the urge to gag building at the back of your throat. Suddenly, it's all you can focus on. The image of you puking out the intrusive organs flashes into your mind. You can't ignore the feeling of squirming and wriggling inside you and whether it's phantom or not doesn't matter because Ford's intestines are inside you, and it's disgusting. It feels like there's something alien nesting inside you, and any sudden movement will cause it to burst out of you. You want to rip your skin off, you want to puke them out or rip the intestines out of you through the scarring. But then again, Bill would probably like that, wouldn't he?

You can at least excuse Ford's behavior. Over thirty years of being on the run through so many different dimensions, only to return home and suddenly having any sense of stability being just as quickly wrenched away from him by the one being who had hurt him most. You want to believe this is Ford giving into the madness and losing himself to it, to the idea that maybe, if he gave in to Bill's whims, it'd be easier. And maybe he's right.

But you're not there, yet. And you pray you never will.

All you can do is manage a nod as your whole body quakes under Ford's touch.

"Awww, if it isn't my two favorite fleshbags," Bill's voice suddenly booms, making you jump. "You two are so cute together! I'm so glad this brought you two even closer together. Say, I was thinking for next time, how does a heart transplant sound?"

Your eyes widen and your teeth clack together. You dare to take a glance at Ford's expression. He meets your gaze, eyes crinkling with excitement behind his glasses as he beams at you with utter joy.

[citrus-writing]

What about yandere Shizuku non-con??

please🙏

Sorry this isn't super smutty, it’s more buildup than anything? I tried to keep readers gender vague since it wasn't specified

Warnings: non-con (implied), abuse (implied), general yandere stuff 

----------

Shizuku is hard to read, she often leaves you wondering what she’s thinking about until she breaks the silence with an outlandish thought- a movie you watched months ago that’s on her mind again, a thing you said once, or something else entirely. She keeps you on your toes, always. 

The one things about her that isn't difficult to read is how she feels about you- she reminds you all the time that she loves you, gives you hundreds of little compliments; all just a little too personal, but you don't tell her that, she snuggles up close with you and holds you in place when you try to struggle away. But worst of all is how obvious she is about her desire for something more with you- it’s obvious that she stares at you; eyes wide behind her glasses, and sometimes she’ll reach out to run a hand over your body, whatever’s nearest to her, be it an arm or a leg or the entirety of your spine. 

Her touch is sensual, adoring, even. It would be a comfort if she weren't your kidnapper, if you weren't her prisoner and if you hadn't seen her kill without hesitation before. Instead, it sends terror through you because you know it’s only a matter of time until she tires of waiting. 

And she does. It’s a day like any other with her- she sleeps in late into the morning, holding you against her body in her sleep, arms wrapped around your torso and legs tangled with yours. You feel her start to stir, the telltale signs of her breathing starting to shift as she rouses from sleep. “Goodmorning.” she greets sleepily, but instead of letting you go, she continues to hold you against her, her breath on the back of your neck. She dips one hand to trace a line down the center of your stomach, inching lower. 

You squirm in discomfort, trying to free yourself from her grip, which has tightened to prevent you from getting away. You try to twist out of her grasp, but she holds you still. She doesn't say anything, she doesn't have to, because after a few desperate attempts you start to give in. it’s not that you want this, not even that you're resigned to your fate, but you know what happens when you make her angry, and you weigh your options carefully as thoughts race in your mind.

She gives a soft hum of approval when you stop fighting, something like affection shining in her eyes. She dips her hand below the waistband of the pajama pants you wear, a slow, exploratory touch that lets you know she’s going to be taking her time with this. You almost wish she wouldn't, that this could be over fast. 

But it won't be, you know that. No matter how much you beg or plead with her, she isn't going to listen to you because Shizuku could do anything she wants to you. She’s going to take her time with you, taking you apart with her deft hands and her skilled mouth, she’s going to have you begging for her- no matter how hard you try to resist. Her wide eyes look at you, appraising your face, and she must like what she sees because she continues to explore your body in a slow, languid way that tells you you’re going to be here for hours. 

[lady-loveluck]

would u share ur fav fics with us?? also anons should drop em here more often

OK I WILL:

A Teenage Werewolf in Hatchetfield. (MICHIE)

The universe hates Richie Lipschitz. (MICHIE)

the devil's after both of us - cannibal chasitys WARNING: Cannibalism, religious trauma.,

Wayward Spunk. (CLAUGERMAN)

Dirty Dudes Get Stuck (MICHIE)

To Dissect a Violent Dog (MICHIE) - WARNING: SUICIDE ATTEMPT, ANGST, DEPRESSION, ALCOHOLISM.

Locker Room Watchers (CLAUGERMAN).

Paul's Presentation (CHAI COFFEE)

In another Universe (MICHIE).

Sleepover Blues (CLAUGERMAN).

Liquid Courage (CLAUGERMAN).

Not a Nerdy Prude (MICHIE) - WARNING: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Non-con, torture, gore, violence, angst, major character death, Richie is having a reaaaally bad time.

In the Janitor's Closet (MICHIE) - WARNING: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Non-con, bullying/torture, urine/pee fetish, angst, Richie is having a real bad time.

Lemme know if you've read any of these and ur thoughts! Also, anons, feel free to share your fav fics!

[brainrotlesbian]

Kisses, but make it whump (nsfw under the cut)

- caretaker gently kissing whumpee’s cheek/forehead to show them affection or that they care

- whumper starting every torture session with a kiss (maybe so whumpee associates kisses with pain? 👀)

- rescuer giving whumpee a kiss on the back of the hand as a show of chivalry (fantasy whump or not)

- close whumpees kissing to reassure one another

- a moment where a rescuer close to whumpee allows whumpee to collapse in their arms as they pepper their head and hair with kisses

- intimate/creepy whumper obsessed with kissing up and down whumpee’s body

- whumper leaving whumpee spread-eagle and nude so nothing is off-limits for kissing

- forcing whumpee to give whumper a kiss after any sort of punishment. Or reward for good behavior, if you see fit

- whumpee being able to barter out of torture/punishment with kisses, or more ;)

- whumper building up to more favors by forcing whumpee to perform smaller ones (kisses on the cheek, lips, full French kiss, etc)

- “well if you can convince me well enough with that pretty mouth of yours, I’ll just fuck you instead of torturing you”

[ivoryghostyy]

「 image, not mine. sourced from pinterest. 」

「 note: previously known as "love bite" and this is the actual revamp of the oneshot. "destined pair" feels too different from the original, so here's something closer. have fun. ^^ 」

「 tw: possessive, mentions of blood, non-consensual biting, non-consensual drinking of blood, slightly suggestive?, implications of stalking, violence — read with caution, i guess. 」

a dark chuckle reverberates through the winding hallways, filling you with a sinking sense of dread.

"come now, you can't hide from me. while i do enjoy this little game of chase, i'm beginning to lose my patience."

you do your best to calm the erratic pace of your heart, but the pressure is getting to you. you're bleeding out, for god's sake. for all you knew, you wouldn't make it out of this alive.

'how comforting,' you thought, as you basked in your own bitter notions. your mind blanks, however, when you finally notice the footsteps resounding nearby.

they're quiet—you barely heard them—but they're close.

dangerously close.

your first mistake was exposing yourself so soon. it was meant to be a quick mission: locate the target and take him down. but he had noticed you too early—almost instantly, as if he knew the whole time.

that should have been enough of a reason for you to back out, as even the slightest risk could lead to your death. you're dealing with vampires, after all.

yet, absurdly, you continued on.

why? somehow, you didn't know either. 'could be the alcohol. or perhaps, there was something bigger at play here. regardless, you kept your pace, staying at a distance and waiting for an opportunity to strike.

which, to be honest, took a lot longer than you expected. if only you could simply kill the witnesses, too.

he was a social butterfly, easily getting along with every person he conversed with. but then again, why wouldn't he? he manages a large organization, after all. with a handsome grin, he knocked everyone's guards down, leaving them completely vulnerable to his charms.

he's beautiful, you'll give him that.

after a while, he excuses himself, and you tail after him. as an experienced hunter, you've learned to mask your presence; to hide within the shadows cast beneath the soft moonlight.

it was going smoothly.

until it wasn't.

he stopped, turning his head to meet your alarmed gaze. it was brief, but it was enough for you to know: he knew you were there.

ruh-roh raggy.

you knew that playing ignorant wouldn't work on him. you've read his files—despite them highly lacking in details. he does a good job of keeping his information confidential—it's practically part of his job to find out if someone's lying or not!

seduction? he may be hot, but really, all you want to do right now is go to sleep. you are not getting laid tonight. really?

'alright, plan C it is.'

you booked it.

cursing under your breath, you ignore the painful ache of your poor feet. you'll be fine, probably. this isn't your first rodeo. for the record, you've once managed to escape with a broken leg, a stab wound, and a splitting headache. this should be easy! don't be so complacent, dear. plot armour can only do so much.

his looming figure casts a shadow over your guarded frame.

"there you are."

you're stuck. trapped between two unwavering arms as he grinned cheekily at you. his eyes are dilated, and he looks almost.. intoxicated.

"i warned you, didn't i? you can't hide from me, fawn."

fawn.

what a stupid nickname. you sneer.

"i'm impressed, really. not many can land a hit on me."

he refers to the healing cut on his chest, the wound beginning to weave itself back together.

righr now, you couldn't do much. with a bleeding gash running from along your hips, you're basically screwed. your hand clutches the wound, blood trickling through your palm as you struggle to apply enough force to your trembling hand.

god, you feel so weak. his eyes pull you into a trance-like state, and you're barely able to hold yourself together. he leans down with an angelic curl to his lips, reaching up to stroke your cheek.

"how cute. 'still resisting, dear? my, you're quite stubborn."

you grumble under your breath. unfortunately for you, he hears it. glowing optics bore right into you, and for a moment, you thought he'd kill you right then and there.

to your surprise, however, he simply chuckles. you release a breath of relief, shivering from the hot puff of air that brushes your neck.

then you wheeze; a pained gasp fumbling out of your lips as he slams you against the wall. a rough hand curls around your throat, sharp nails poking your skin—that should be enough of a warning to keep you still.

"now," your eyes trail to the side as you shift;

but he moves in, lips only an inch away from yours.

"ah-ah, what are you looking at, fawn? i don't want your attention straying. your gaze is meant only for me."

"shut up, you i-insufferable-" you cough, lightly gasping when the grip on your throat tightens.

"-oversized mosquito!"

…

goddamn it-

"pfft-"

his eyes crinkle as he laughs, and you're completely stunned; mesmerized by how genuine he sounds. seriously, has this guy considered making asmr videos?

"oversized mosquito? is that supposed to be an insult?"

his grip loosens for a moment, but he regains his composure before you can make a move. fuck vampires and their inhuman speed.

"i quite like you. you've always been an entertaining little fawn." he pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his handsome features before he smirks. "i've decided, i'll be keeping you." it shouldn't be a problem. you've always been his.

he smiles, but his eyes are dimly lit, glinting ominously.

"what!? no-" he interrupts you, a sharpened nail digging into the skin of your neck, drawing a few drops of blood.

"i don't think you heard me. see,"

he guides you impossibly closer. his lips now only mere centimetres away from yours. his thumb trails along your jaw as the other wanders up the skin of your thigh, landing on the small of your back. his touch leaves a trail of heat, a shiver crawling up your spine.

"i wasn't asking, fawn."

and in the next moment, you're pinned against the wall. he leans his weight against you, pulling your hands behind your back. his fangs graze your neck, and you can feel your heart beating frantically.

"i'll have you, even if i have to break you in the process."

the dread settles in, and for the first time in years, you're filled with pure, unadulterated fear.

"shh, don't worry, dear. the pain is only for a moment."

you're scared. he's going to bite you. he's going to bite you. as a last-ditch attempt, you move to stun him.

"stay still."

he's quicker.

fangs sink into your skin, and you whimper at the pain. the feeling of your blood being drained, of the unbearable sting of his fangs in your neck, you almost cry from the agonizing discomfort.

but this isn't what you fear the most. no, this doesn't even come close. you're not scared of pain; half your life was spent with pain playing the role of a clingy lover.

what you fear.. is what comes next.

pleasure.

you can't succumb to it. you can't! you can still take him down with what little strength you have left. you need to resist-

his fanks sink deeper, lulling the ache away and replacing it with a heated embrace. your tense muscles relax, and you stifle a guttural moan at the growing heat in your abdomen.

your instincts fight against the sedative effects, still trying to pull you out from drowning in pleasure.

wake up, goddamn it! he'll kill you!

breathing heavily, you once again struggle against his hold, forcing yourself to shove him off.

his jaw clenches, and you flinch. his hand pulls you closer, pressing against your stomach, causing a wave of heat to course through your trembling frame.

you feel so sensitive; almost like you're drunk on aphrodisiac.

as all fight leaves you, an open moan flittering through your lips. your eyebrows furrow. you don't feel the need to resist anymore.

why would you? you're safe with him. he is all you need.

your limbs grow heavy. why're you so tired? you groan, leaning your head back as he moves away. your wobbly legs can barely hold you up, so he takes the liberty of pulling you into his arms.

he grins in content, licking off the stray blood on your neck. you shiver, clutching the fabric of his clothes. 'you're so adorable. all vulnerable and dazed in his hold,' he muses to himself. you're disoriented, unable to think clearly as you nuzzle into his chest.

"look at you, darling. safe and warm, right here with me."

he'll make sure to take care of you. he's not just watching from afar anymore; now, you're finally in his arms.

'finally, mine.'

[hihiiii1]

I’m extremelyyyu h0rny! Pls send r@pe threats!!

[whump-since-2010]

Butterfly Whumpee - Inhuman

(Check tags for tws)

Whumpee finished her song, wincing back a cough as her throat scratched on the last note, and she faltered. Her eyes darted to his as a scowl tugged down on the corners of his eyes and lips. She shrank in on herself, the sudden urge to cover her body overcoming her in a moment at his disdain.

Cold exposure pricked beneath her skin, and a shiver raced down her spine. Icy steel of the chain cuffs stinging her flesh as a movement pulled them slack, and she gasped, choking on air.

"Come here."

Whumpee hesitated, trembling as she looked down. She opened her mouth, but the chain around her neck yanked her to her knees

"I said, Come here. Not speak. You're not a person, you're a pet, and pets obey orders."

Whumpee broke into a coughing fit, her throat burning as she shivered.

Whumper's cold fingers found her shoulder and gently trailed from her collarbone to her jaw, and forced her face within a few inches of his nose.

His other hand found the tentacle-like tendrils in place of her hair as his thumb brushed over her lips. "You're a destroyer. You're dead at a lift of my finger. You are mine."

Whumpee tensed, but Whumper yanked her chains tighter and slid his hands to her neck, hard ice on soft golden brown. "Open those wings for me, bug. You know you want to."

Whumpee grunted softly and shuddered into another coughing fit. She flinched away from him, but a clank of chains yanked her back.

His knuckles cracked across her skin in an instant. She cried out, collapsing onto her hands and knees. Blood trickled slowly from her flat nose.

"You're a monster, bug. A destroyer. It's in your name. You were never meant to live. The only reason I kept you is because I like the way you look. The more you disobey me, the uglier you get. First, the legs, now your pretty face. If you don't use those ears of yours, you'll cost nothing by the time I'm done with you."

Whumpee whimpered softly.

"You do sound so sweet when you beg." His nails dug into her tendrils. "You're losing time."

Whumpee's wings trembled open at his threat, and Whumper's face flashed into a smile. She closed her eyes as he moved her body where he wanted it, trailing a hand along the bone of her wing. He pulled her into a kiss, lips whispering over her skin as the words brushed her tongue. "Good girl."

Please comment... I would love it if you did :)

[sneakyblinders]

The Honorable Gangster

A/N: another installment of the courting series of the tommy and his darling wife!au. aka tommy x ofc (bee). this one takes place directly after Under the London Lamp Posts. Tommy is the hero in this one. PLEASE heed the warnings. warnings: language, non-consensual kissing & sexual motives, violence, fighting, blood, not canon, with a happy ending & fluff sprinkled in at the end. sexual themes. 18+. You are responsible for your media consumption! Please do not proceed if you are uncomfortable or if any of the above mentioned warnings will upset you. 5.7k words. I take no credit for the gif! text dividers are from @cottage-writings and I take no credit for those either!

1919

Bee had walked with her head in the clouds for the next few days. When Thomas Shelby had dropped her off at her front door, he’d kissed her hand and asked her to write her phone number down so he could call her. He said he’d call her the next time he was coming to London. 

He looked at her through his thick, dark eyelashes and raised her hand to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her knuckles, eyes never leaving hers. “Goodnight, Gorgeous,” he told her, smirking to himself when he noticed her go weak in the knees. 

“Goodnight, Thomas,” she said airily, unlocking her front door. 

He smirked as she shut the door. When she was safely behind her door, she pressed her back to the door and slid down to the floor, a lovestruck expression on her face. 

Betty raced down the hall from her room once she’d heard the door shut. “Well?” she squealed. 

“Oh he’s perfect,” Bee said dreamily, legs sprawled out in front of her. 

She could hear his heavy footsteps getting farther and farther away as he walked down the hallway and out the doors. Her heart became heavy. A sense of loneliness she’d never felt before descending on her. 

“Did he kiss you?” Betty asked. 

“No!” Bee exclaimed, cheeks flushing. 

“Oh come on,” Betty rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “A man like that is bound to kiss you, so get ready for your first kiss, Missy.” 

Bee’s heart quickened. She knew it was true. “He was in the War,” she said, a faraway tone to her voice.

“Heavens, Bee, how old is he?” Betty asked, eyes widening. 

“Oh, I think twenty-nine or so?”

Betty chuckled. “Holy hell you’re in for it.” 

Bee stood up, walking towards her room. “What do you mean?” she asked, kicking her shoes off. 

“A man like that will know what he wants, and will take it and make you love him for it.” 

Her stomach did a little flutter. “He was a perfect gentleman.” 

“Of course he was! I am just saying to be ready to be with a man.” 

“I’m tired, Betty. I’m going to bed.” Bee said dismissively, annoyed that her friend couldn’t let her divulge the information she so badly wanted to without sounding jealous.

On Sundays, Bee’s family had a family dinner. Her siblings gather with her parents and grandfather for dinner, around her mothers dining room table. It was their opportunity to catch up with one another, not allow too much distance despite them all living their own separate lives. 

After dinner, her father and mother asked to speak to her. “Bee, Darling, a young man has come to see us about courting you,” her mother said, a sparkle in her eyes. 

Bee’s eyes lit up–Thomas! How had he found them? She didn’t care, she only cared that he was wishing to court her! 

“His name is Jonathan Sayer,” her father continued, and her face fell downcast. “He is a banker here in London, he comes from a good family, and he’d make an excellent husband, Bee. He will be coming to Grandfather’s birthday party next week so you can meet him.” 

“I–I can’t do that,” she said softly, heart cracking in her chest. 

“Why not?” her father chuckled. 

“I–I met someone last week,” she said softly, not meeting her parents' gaze. 

“Bee, Darling, I’m sure whoever you met was a fine individual but Jonathan will make a fine match.” Her father continued, waving her off. 

Bee looked to her mother, who gave her a sympathetic look. 

Before she left her parents flat that evening, her mother caught her by the arm. “Bee, Darling,” she said. “If this other young man has caught your heart, listen to it. Our family marries for love.” 

That night, Tommy called her. “Hello?” She answered the phone. 

“Hello, Gorgeous,” that velvety voice said on the other end. 

“Thomas,” she said softly, leaning against the wall. 

“How are you today?” he asked, fingers drumming on his desk. 

“I’m okay,” she said, sighing. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting forward in his chair, elbows on his desk. 

“My–my father has told me I have a suitor.” 

The other end of the line went quiet. All Bee could hear was her heartbeat in her chest. “What do you have to say about it?” he asked, clearing his throat. She could hear his seat squeak as he adjusted his posture. 

“I would rather be with you,” she blurted out. She shut her eyes immediately. Stupid girl, why did you say that? 

He smiled. “When can I see you?” he asked. 

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to meet this suitor on Friday night,” she groaned. She was scheduled to work at the book shop for the next few nights. “At my grandfather’s birthday party.” 

“I’ll come then,” he said simply, taking a sip of whiskey. 

“You can’t do that!” she said standing up a little straighter. 

“Why not?” he asked. “They won’t notice an extra man there, surely.” 

“They would if he looks like you do,” she says, her face scrunching after the words left her mouth. 

Tommy smirks on the other end of the phone, licking his lips. “I’m not sure if that’s meant to offend or flatter me, Gorgeous,” he flirted. 

“Flatter. Definitely flatter,” she told him quickly. 

“Where is the party at?” he asked, holding back a laugh. She blurted out the details, for once, not thinking of the consequences. “I’ll be there, Darling. Sleep well. Dream of me,” he flirted. 

“Only if you dream of me,” she told him. 

“You haven’t left my mind for one moment,” he told her. 

Butterflies filled her belly. “Goodnight, Thomas.” 

“Goodnight, Gorgeous.” 

Friday night came and Bee nervously dressed in her favorite light purple dress. Her father gathered everyone up in the family car and drove them to the countryside, to her grandfather's estate. Her stomach was in knots, thinking of Jonathan–of Thomas. 

Cocktail hour was in full swing, the music loud, the guests louder. Mr. Sutton brought Jonathan to Bee. “Darling Daughter, may I introduce Mr. Jonathan Sayer.” 

He was handsome enough. Blond hair and light brown eyes, but a scowl so deeply set in his features, she couldn’t shake his coldness. His features paled in comparison to Tommy. “Miss Sutton,” he said, bowing slightly to her, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Pleasure,” she said, smiling awkwardly at him. 

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” her father said, smiling awkwardly at the two of them. 

They stood awkwardly before Jonathan blurted out, “My mother intends to marry us soon, something about a good dowry, so we better get the formalities out of the way. I think you’re pretty enough and you look brighter than how you speak. I overheard a few other conversations with your aunts, I think it was. That can be changed with some good literature and not those ridiculous romance books I’m sure you find wonderful,” tears stung at her eyes. “You’re a little too thin for my taste, however,” he says, looking her up and down. She felt herself shrinking. “So eat plenty in the coming months. If everything goes to plan we’ll be on our honeymoon in six months.”

“Excuse me, please, I need a drink,” she says, excusing herself to the drink table. 

To her disgust, he followed her. “Allow me,” he said, taking the glass from her hand and pouring her a glass of water. “Now drink it so we can dance.” 

She eyed him warily, swallowing down her glass. He took it from her hands and set it on a tray a waiter was carrying, bringing her to the dance floor. 

His hand didn’t quite fit well in hers–his fingers were too slender, palms too small. She felt clammy as he pressed his body against hers, whirring her around the dance floor so quickly her head spun. He stepped on her feet a few times, and nearly ran her into another couple.  

What felt like an eternity later, a man who Bee couldn’t make out for her dizziness, tapped Jonathan on the shoulder. “May I cut in?” the thick, velvet Birmingham accent. Her vision was still spinning as Jonathan released her reluctantly. 

“She’s a terrible partner, good luck, mate,” Jonathan said. 

She felt Tommy’s strong arm around her back, his hand taking a hold of hers. His hands were warm, the rest of him ice cold. “Hello, Gorgeous,” he said in her ear, his lips dangerously close to the shell of her ear. He inhaled her perfume and nearly moaned, loving her scent, her body pressed against his. 

“Thomas,” she breathed, a smile on her face. “You came.” 

“Of course I did. I am a man of my word,” he told her. The song turned slow and he gently changed his pace. “Especially to a beautiful lady.” 

She blushed, a bashful smile on her lips. “You look handsome tonight.” 

And he did. He wore a white striped shirt with a navy waistcoat and suit. His hair had just been cut and he’d shaved mere minutes before he’d walked out the door. He'd worn his best cologne.

“You outshine me, I assure you,” he whispered in her ear. “Everyone’s been staring at you all night.” 

“Have you been?” she asked in an uncharacteristically bold manner.

“Ever since I got here,” he rasped. “Can’t take my fucking eyes off you,” The butterflies came back in her belly, his grip on the small of her back tightening. “Who was dancing with you before?” he asked. 

“My suitor,” she ground out. “He was terribly rude to me,” she said, eyes burning thinking of the hateful things he’d said. 

“What did he say?” Tommy asked, body tensing. 

“He said I was too skinny, that I was pretty enough and that I needed to speak like I had a brain, essentially,” she rattled off. Tommy clenched his jaw. 

“You are exquisite,” he told her. “Don’t listen to him.” 

“He doesn’t matter anyway,” she said, leaning in closer to him. “You’re the one who matters, Thomas,” she told him. 

He closed his eyes and for a moment, he was 16 again. In love for the first time. Maybe this would be the last time. 

The dancing came to an end so more food could be served, and Tommy walked over to the table with her. He pulled out her chair for her and she sat down. “I’ll be back with a plate for you, and I,” he said, fingers kneading her shoulder softly. She nodded, stomach in knots as her mother approached, Tommy walking towards the food spread. 

“Bee! Bee why were you dancing so closely with that man! You’re supposed to be dancing with Jonathan!” her mother scolded. 

“Mother,” Bee whispered, motioning for her mother to come closer. “That’s the other man!” 

Her mothers eyes widened. “Bee, lovey, that can’t be him,” she said softly. “That’s Thomas Shelby.” 

Bee’s eyes widened. “You know who he is?” 

“Darling he’s a gangster,” her mother eyed the room apprehensively before leaning down to her daughter. “He’s the leader of a dangerous gang in Birmingham, how could you keep this from me?” 

“I didn’t know, mother! He said he was a businessman–a bookmaker!” Bee said defensively, brain spinning. 

Her mother laughed. “Bee, he’s a bookmaker because he’s known for fixing races,” her mother seethed. 

“Mother–”

“No, Bee! He is dangerous!”

“He is behind you,” Tommy said, holding two plates of food, standing behind Mrs. Sutton, who was, ironically, standing in front of Tommy’s chair. 

“Oh!” Mrs. Sutton exclaimed, quickly moving out of the way. “Mr. Shelby,” she said, jaw clenched. 

“Mrs. Sutton, I presume?” he said, handing Bee a plate of food he knew she wouldn’t eat. Her body was alight with nerves. 

“Yes. My daughter is quite taken with you, Mr. Shelby, but she is spoken for. This seat is already occupied.” Her mother said, gripping the back of the chair, preventing Tommy from sitting down. 

“Mother, please,” Bee tried protesting. 

“Oh, here he comes. Here’s Jonathan!” her mother says, a smile spreading on her face. Jonathan approached with his own plate of food, sitting down next to Bee. 

Tommy nodded in acknowledgement before taking a seat on her right. “Appears this seat is empty, I’ll just sit here then,” he threw Mrs. Sutton a smug smile, eyes narrowing. 

“Flanked by a gentleman on either side, Miss Sutton, you are quite desired I see,” Jonathan seethed, Mrs. Sutton letting out a surprised squeak. 

“I need to see to my father, excuse me, please,” Mrs. Sutton said, desperately trying to wrap her head around the scene unfolding in front of her and needing to get away from it. 

“I assure you, Mr. Sayers, I am no gentleman,” Tommy said, raising a cigarette to his lips. 

“Of that I have no doubt,” Jonathan quipped back. 

Bee sank deeper into her chair, biting the inside of her cheek. 

“But I do know how to speak to a lady,” Tommy said, leaning into the table, peering around Bee to get a better look at his opponent. 

Jonathan scoffed. “Who? Her?” he eyed Bee. 

Tommy ran his tongue over his teeth, temper threatening to boil over at any moment. “I need some air, if you’ll excuse me,” Bee said, in a voice so small Tommy almost didn’t recognize her voice. She got up and exited the room, making her way to a terrace off the ballroom. 

Jonathan moved to stand. “Sit down,” Tommy rasped, leaning back in his chair. “Give her a minute.” 

To his surprise, Jonathan listened, sitting down, his eyes narrowed. “What interest does Gypsy scum like you have in her?” Tommy’s eyebrows raised and he cocked his head to the side. “I know who you are, everyone in this fucking room knows who you are except Bee. She’d be much better served with a normal man, not some psychotic racketeer who has the police in his pocket and whores adorning his bed every night,” Jonathan spat, face turning red. 

“You’re right,” Tommy said, not meeting his expression. “She probably would be better served being with a man who wouldn’t put her life in danger, but,” he took a drag off his cigarette. “It should be her choice, shouldn’t it?” 

Jonathan scoffed. “She doesn’t know what’s best for her, wouldn’t know a good thing if it hit her in the face. She’s naive and dull–”

Before Jonathan could get another word out, Tommy nearly leapt from his seat, taking a hold of his collar, temper spilled over. “Say one more word about her and I will cut you from ear to ear,” he seethed, teeth bared. “That woman,” he breathed. “That lovely creature will never be yours. Even if she refuses me, she will never have you. You aren’t deserving of her.” 

Jonathan smirked. “And you think you are?” 

Tommy let go of his collar, standing up and walking towards the terrace. 

Bee stood, her hips pressed against the wrought iron railing of the terrace, head in her hands, staring into the gardens. “Darling,” Tommy rasped low, a hand gently resting on the small of her back. 

She turned immediately to him, face full of anger. “You should’ve never come here,” she said. His heart panged in his chest, the familiar ache growing within him. “I’ll be married to Jonathan in less than six months,” she said, lips pressed into a tight line. 

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Tommy told her, a hand gently resting on her arm, rubbing it soothingly. 

She wrenched away from him, scoffing in annoyance. “Get away from me, Thomas!” she said, not looking at him. “You lied to me.” 

His heart sank in his chest, seeing the pain on her face. “Lied?” he asked, a lump forming in his throat. 

She laughed incredulously. “A bookmaker, a businessman who works with horses,” she chuckled. “Good thing I don’t read the papers, hm? How about a gangster? A man who fixes races,” she sneered. 

Tommy sighed, digging his hands in his pockets. “I was going to tell you–”

“When? When, Thomas? After I was hopelessly in love with you? Unable to separate my heart from yours? I’ve spent all week dreaming of you and you leave these details out! We spoke for hours that first night!” she said, tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. 

Tommy cleared his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

She looked at him, his eyes full of regret. “I should’ve never let you take me to dinner that night,” she said, storming back into the ballroom. 

And he let her. 

“Tommy! Tom! Thomas, hello?” Polly yelled, snapping her fingers in front of her nephew's face. “Are you in another world over there?” she asked, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. 

“What were you saying, Pol?” he asked, refocusing his attention. 

She sighed. “Oh for fucks sake, when are you going to tell me what the hell has gotten into you?” she asked, exasperated. 

It had been three weeks since he’d heard from Bee. She hadn’t answered the phone. He’d sent flowers three times a week for the last three weeks, each arrangement more elaborate than the one before it. He’d sent handwritten notes with them, begging her for forgiveness, asking her to call him, or answer the damn phone. 

“It’s nothing, Pol,” he sighed. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who is she?” 

He sighed, letting his head thump back against the backrest of the plush chair he was sitting in. “This girl I met in London.” 

Polly raised her eyebrows. “What’s wrong with her?”

He sighed. “Not a fucking thing,” he breathed, striking a match and bringing it to his cigarette. “I didn’t tell her what I do exactly and she found out somehow, probably from this bastard that she’s supposed to be courting, or her busybody mother, but the suitor–he speaks terribly about her.”

“Then why is he courting her?” Polly asked. 

Tommy shook his head. “Fuck if I know.” 

“Well either go to her and beg for forgiveness or stop sulking. You’re making everyone miserable,” Polly told him, standing up from her chair and walking out of the room. 

“Fuck,” he grumbled. 

“What the hell are we going to London for again, Tom?” John grumbled as he, Arthur and Tommy all piled in the car together. 

“Business,” Tommy ground out as Arthur turned the key in the ignition. 

“Yeah, fucking business about a woman,” Arthur said in jest. 

“Ah fuck,” John rolled his eyes. 

“While I am handling my own business, you two are going to check on the pubs we’re paid to look after. Make sure everything is as it should be. Shouldn’t be long.”

The trio rode to London in silence. 

It was Sunday, and in true Sutton family fashion, the whole family was gathered around the dinner table–this week there was an additional guest. A Mr. Jonathan Sayer. 

Dinner was progressing rather awkwardly, Bee’s inability to separate her mind from the two-facedness of this man overwhelming her. He was sweet and attentive in front of either of their parents but rude and dismissive when it was the two of them. She had tried telling her father, who only waved her off. “If we left you to your own devices to choose a man, you’d be with that bastard Tom Shelby,” he cackled. “We’re doing what’s best, Darling, I assure you.”

At the mention of Thomas’ name, her blood boiled. She hadn’t spent a day not thinking about him–he’d made it quite hard with the multiple bouquets of flowers he’d sent her over the last few weeks. Betty had sneezed nonstop for all the pollen. But Bee couldn’t bring herself to throw any of them away. 

She warred in herself about Thomas Shelby. She was enamored by him, curious about this man still. His attention had been nice. The way he looked at her. Like she changed his world somehow. She could smell his cologne if she closed her eyes and tried hard enough. But she was so mad at him–that he wouldn’t have told her about what he truly did. One would think that if a lady was getting involved with a gangster, the said gangster, if he was truly as enamored with her as she was with him, would value her safety and disclose this pertinent information to her. But no. He didn’t! 

Her mind circled in these patterns of rationalizing his behavior, and then becoming angry with him again. 

After dinner and dessert, Jonathan asked her to take a walk. She reluctantly agreed. He led them down the stairs and to the alleys. Suddenly, when he figured they were out of sight enough, he pushed her against the brick, her vision going starry, the back of her head hitting the brick. 

“If you’re not good for anything else,” he sneered, hands pinning her shoulders to the brick. “You will give me pleasure as my wife,” he growled, lips pressing roughly against hers. 

Bee tried to squirm away from him, trying to speak to him, tell him she’d rather take it slowly, rather kiss him gently, but his strength had her pinned against the brick, unable to move. 

Tommy had asked around London and had graciously been told where the Sutton family home was. He had remembered Bee telling him on Sunday evenings they all had dinner together and was delighted at his good timing and luck. He approached the row of buildings he had been told the Suttons lived in, when he heard a whimper. “No, no, please, not this way, please, Jonathan,” his blood ran cold, hearing that sweet voice he’d longed to hear. 

He couldn’t make out Jonathan’s reply but he quickened his pace, walking towards the alleys. 

The rage that Tommy tried so bloody hard to stifle boiled over. “Hey!” he called, voice deep and booming from his chest, echoing off the brick walls that surrounded them. Jonathan and Bee’s heads turned towards him. “Take your fucking hands off her!” Tommy yelled, removing his cap from his head. 

“Or what?” Jonathan countered as Tommy continued to stalk closer. 

Tommy delivered a crunch to the man's jaw, a sickening crunch of teeth giving him chills. Bee tumbled to the floor of the alley, her dress askew on her body. 

“Thomas!” Bee yelled. 

Blood roared in Tommy’s ears as he hunched over Jonathan, hands gripping his neck. “She will never be yours,” Tommy ground out before slashing his blade across Jonathan’s left eye. Bee screamed at the blood. It was everywhere. Jonathan screamed in agony, clutching his eye as Tommy stood up. “By order of the Peaky fucking Blinders,” He shook the blood from his cap and approached Bee gently. “Come on, Darling,” he held a hand out to her. 

She was shaking as Tommy helped her to her feet, his strong arms and hands holding her against him. She began to cry, her body suddenly cold despite the warm day. “Thomas,” she cried as he led her away from where Jonathan lay on the floor screaming still. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” Tommy told her, holding her closer to him. “He’ll never touch you again.” 

Once they were in the sunlight, out of the alleyway, she nearly collapsed in his arms. “Thomas,” she cried. “Why?” tears ran down her face. 

In one swift motion, he hoisted her into his arms, carrying her up the steps to her parents flat. He nearly kicked the door in, fuming with anger. “What the hell–” Mr Sutton said. “What have you done to her?” 

Tommy walked her over to the sofa, where he laid her down. She looked at her father with tears in her eyes. “He’s done nothing but be honorable, Father,” she cried.

“Why is there blood on you? Where is Jonathan?” her mother chimed in, walking over to her daughter. 

“I was coming here tonight to beg for your daughter's forgiveness,” Tommy started. “And when I approached the flats, Mr. Sayer was trying to take advantage of your daughter,” Tommy told them, jaw clenched. 

Mrs. Sutton cradled her daughter against her chest. Bee sniffled, “He saved me.”

Tommy buried his hands in his pockets, eyeing the floor, waiting for an accusation or a demand to remove himself from the flat. 

“Thomas,” Mr. Sutton said, as they heard ambulance sirens in the distance. “Thank you.” 

Mr. Sutton approached Tommy, holding his hand out. Tommy shook it, jaw still clenched. “I don’t want to be with Jonathan, Father,” Bee said quietly. 

Mr. Sutton shook his head. “You will never see him again, Bee Darling.” 

Tommy eyed Bee, that look of adoration in his eyes. “I hope you can forgive me, Darling. But even if you don’t, I wouldn’t have changed what I did today.” 

And he turned on his heel and left. 

The first half of the week came and left. There was news that Jonathan Sayer lost his eye. Tommy smiled to himself when Arthur told him. 

It was half past three in the afternoon, Tommy was shuffling through endless papers, stacks of money, letters, invoices. A secretary he couldn't remember the name of, Joanna maybe? Knocked on the door. “Mr. Shelby?” he looked up from his paperwork, an annoyed look in his eyes. “There is a woman here for you–she says to call her Bee? Sutton I think she said.”

Tommy never stood up so quickly. “Send her in! Eh! Now!” he demanded, straightening his waistcoat, tucking his tie down into it, running a hand through his hair. 

The secretary scrambled from her awkward position in the doorway. She returned with Bee trailing behind her. She looked angelic, ethereal in the orange afternoon light that flooded through the frosted windows of the Shelby Company Limited Office. “Mr. Shelby, Miss,” Joanna said, shutting the door behind her. 

“Thomas,” Bee said, expression unreadable. 

“Hello, Gorgeous,” he drawled, exhaling smoke. He looked so handsome, she thought to herself. His shoulders looked even broader, arms even stronger, without his suit jacket on. His sleeve garters accentuated the muscle that she knew rippled beneath the fabric of his shirt. His hair was rumpled, almost as if he’d been running an anxious hand through it all day. Which he had. “What brings you to Birmingham?” he asked as she approached his desk.

She sat down in one of the plush leather chairs sitting on the other side of his desk. “You.” 

He felt his neck flash hot, her dark, gorgeous eyes boring into him. “Me, hm?” he said, sitting down in his chair. 

“Yeah,” she said, nostrils flared, lips in an angry line. “You and your bloody flowers and notes and the fact that I can’t stop thinking about you,” she confessed, finally diverting her gaze. “You and that stupid look on your face I can’t stand it!” she shouted, standing up, crossing her arms in front of her chest. His eyes were soft as they followed her while she began to pace back and forth behind the chairs opposite his desk. A small smile formed on his lips. “Stop looking at me like that!” she shouted, fists clenched at her sides. 

He stalked over to her, face dangerously close to hers. “Would you like for me to look at you how that bastard your family wanted to marry you off to, looked at you? Hm? Rather look at you like a conquest, not a woman to be desired? To be seduced properly? To be worshiped, adored, cherished? I can look at you like a conquest but you are far more to me than just that. So if you want us to fuck,” he raised his eyebrows, licking his lips. “We can, right now. Right here, bent over my desk, and I’ll throw you to the curb like last week's paper when I’m finished,” she huffed out an angry breath. “Or if you’d rather, I can continue to look at you the way I have since you made me drop my fucking whiskey in that damn London street,” he took her head in his hands. “And spend the rest of my life showing you why I look at you the way I do.” 

His lips ghosted over hers, barely brushing together. “Thomas,” she said softly, a hand coming up to touch his arm. “You don’t mean that.”

“Darling,” he whispered, removing his hands from her face and dropping to his knees in front of her. “Forgive me. Give me another chance, and I promise you, I will never lie by exclusion again,” Tears came to her eyes. She shut her eyes quickly, as to not see the pleading look in his eyes. “If you didn’t come here to tell me you want to be with me, then what did you come all the way down here for, hm?”  

Her hand cupped his jaw gently, thumb rubbing his cheekbone softly. “Nothing but that, Thomas. Absolutely nothing.” 

He stood to his feet, pressing his forehead against hers, smiling like an idiot. “Does this mean I have to formally ask your father to court you?” he asked. 

She swatted at his chest playfully. “If you want to go about this as a gentleman, then yes,” she giggled. 

“If I were a gentleman, I don’t think I’d want to kiss you so terribly right now,” he breathed. 

“Well,” she said, a flirty tone in her voice. “You don’t always have to be a gentleman. You can always start this evening.” 

He chuckled, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up towards his. “I’ll start this evening then, Miss Sutton.”

He brought his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, one hand on her cheek, the other on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. Her hands rested on his chest, melting against him. Tommy inhaled her perfume, bringing his hand down from her face to crush her body further against him. Wanting, needing her closer. 

She sighed into the kiss, not wanting it to end. His lips were soft and he smelled of tobacco and whiskey and ink and cologne and never in her life had she smelled something so intoxicating as Thomas Shelby. 

He pulled away reluctantly, every ounce of discipline in his mind and body being put to test. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he rasped, forehead resting against hers. 

She was breathless, heart skipping a beat in her chest. “Thomas Shelby,” she giggled as he tried to reach for her lips again. 

“Yes?”

“I think we may have an audience,” she giggled, noticing several blurry figures outside of the window. 

He turned around and cursed under his breath. “Oui! Gimme a minute!” he shouted, and the figures scattered back to their respective desks and offices. “They’re so fucking nosey,” he mumbled. “Where was I?” 

She pulled his neck closer to her face, nails scratching at the short hair at the back of his head. “Somewhere around here,” she smiled at him. 

He picked her up and carried her to the chaise in the office, sitting her in his lap. “I don’t think I can ever let go of you,” he breathed, his hands running over the fabric of her skirt, dangerously close to her bum. 

“Then don’t,” she told him. And he crashed his lips to hers. 

The next evening, Tommy arrived at the Sutton family’s flat in London. He knocked on the door, heart in his hands. Mrs. Sutton opened the door, a pleased expression on her face. “Mr. Shelby, come in.” 

He walked in the front room where Mr. Sutton sat, a stern expression on his face. “Mr. Shelby,” he greeted coldly. 

“Evening, Mr. Sutton,” he drawled, taking a seat on the chair opposite Mr. Sutton. “I have come to ask your permission to court your daughter.”

The older man snarled. “I guessed as much. You’ve got all these ideas in her head about romance running rampant in her mind. I believe in love, Mr. Shelby, I just don’t believe a man like you is capable of it.” 

Tommy nodded. “I won’t disappoint you, or your daughter, Mr. Sutton.” 

Mrs. Sutton joined the two of them with cups of tea. “I don’t really see what someone like you wants with someone like her. Honestly, Mr. Shelby, you have plenty of women at your disposal.”

“None of them are her,” Tommy said simply, jaw clenched. “I assure you, all the days of her life, she will be safe with me.” 

The older man scoffed. “You talk as though you wish to marry her,” Tommy’s eyes grew serious. “You can’t be serious. Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy took a deep breath out. “Yes. She is young and she is beautiful and she is elegant and intelligent and innocent and everything I am not, but I have not gone a day, a moment without thinking of her since I met her. I am not an honest man, but my intentions with her are honest. I do not wish to sully her reputation or lay with her and kick her to the side. If she will have me, it would be an honor to walk beside her.” 

Mrs. Sutton was frozen, a hand to her chest, tears in her eyes. Mr. Sutton rolled his eyes. “Aah, hell,” he sighed, reaching a hand out. “You have my blessing, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy all but ran to Bee’s flat, a few blocks from her parents after his conversation with them was finished. “Darling!” he shouted from the street. She heard him through the open window and waved at him to come up. Betty was at the book shop tonight, so the flat was empty besides her. 

She flung the door open and he pulled her into his chest, hands on her hips before spinning her into the air. “Thomas!” she giggled as he held her, arms encircling her thighs. She looked down at him, holding his head in her hands. “Thomas, did he say yes?” 

“Reluctantly,” Tommy told her breathlessly. She removed his hat from his head, tossing it to the entryway table.  

“Thank you for asking like a gentleman,” she told him, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll make an honorable gangster out of you yet,” she giggled as he set her down gently. 

“I’m afraid I’m the one who’s going to take everything that’s honorable about you and throw it out the window,” he nearly growled, a hand gripping her hip. 

“Go ahead,” she challenged, boldly pressing her lips to his with a smile. 

He was done for. Done for and he knew it. But he was happy. Fuck. He was happy. 

[ziptiesnfries]

Persuasion, part 2

Read Part 1 here

CWs: whumper POV, kidnapping, mind control, gaslighting, belting/whipping with a belt, restraints, noncon touch

It only took ten minutes for the shouting to start. Gianna sat placidly on her couch and listened to the muffled curses coming from upstairs. It turned out that Shelby was very creative when pissed off; Gianna was excited to hear what they’d come up with under real duress.

Still, she didn’t rush it—she wanted to make sure her influence was well and truly out of Shelby’s system before she got started. She enjoyed the ebb and flow of their shouts for a while before she finally slipped her silk gloves back on, gathered her supplies, and headed upstairs.

At the sound of her approach, the shouts in the guest bathroom abruptly went quiet—only to explode when she opened the door. “What the fuck?!” Shelby demanded, twisting around as best they could in their restraints. With their hands cuffed to the towel bar, they had to crane their neck in order to face her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Gianna hummed as she deposited her supplies on the counter next to the sink. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” they hissed. The handcuffs rattled against the bar as they gestured. “What the fuck is this?”

It was so tempting to take off her gloves and soothe them again, but at the same time, her body thrummed with excitement at their anger. She could definitely get used to this—their defiant scowl, the hint of fear in their eyes … “We’re just having a little fun, that’s all.” She smiled and tilted her head. “Besides, I don’t remember forcing you to be here.”

She stepped back just in time to avoid their lunge, and the cuffs rattled and scraped against the towel bar. “I don’t want to be here!” they shouted. “I don’t know what the fuck you did to me, but—”

“How could I have done anything to you?” she asked innocently, hands clasped behind her back. “You didn’t even take the drink I offered you. You agreed to come here, didn’t you?”

Uncertainty flashed in their eyes, but it was quickly replaced by rage. “I agreed to spend the night, not—whatever this is.” They swallowed as they spotted the supplies on the counter. They took a deep, measured breath. “Just—just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that. Now turn around.”

They backed up against the wall, still facing her with their arms twisted awkwardly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She picked up the kitchen scissors from the counter. “Turn around, or this is going to hurt much more than necessary.”

Their eyes widened, their breaths becoming shallow. “You wouldn’t—”

Without warning, she jabbed the scissors into their arm. They yelped and sucked in a breath. She smiled as she leaned forward. “I said, turn around, beautiful.”

Slowly, they complied, taking shaky breaths as they gripped the bar in front of them. In a way, Gianna did find it beautiful: the way their shoulders trembled, their knuckles turning white, their head bowing in anticipation. The bathroom mirror hung just across from them, so even with their back turned, she could see their eyes wrinkling around the edges as they squeezed them shut.

She snipped the scissors, delighting in the way Shelby flinched at the noise. “Now, stay still,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t want to cut you.”

She teased the blade against their exposed lower back before slicing up their thin, skimpy shirt. As they realized what was happening, they let out a gasp, but they stayed still, stiff and trembling. Gianna smiled; they were a quick learner.

Just for fun, she ran the scissors down the dip of their spine. This time, they flinched, arching their back away. “Careful,” Gianna murmured. She drew the scissors away and admired the expanse of their back, a blank canvas. Reverently, she ran her gloved hand over their bare skin.

They jerked away, pressing into the wall. For a moment, it startled her; she was used to being leaned into, not pulled away from. “Don’t touch me, you fucking creep!” Shelby snapped.

She just smiled. By the end of this, they’d be begging for her touch. She put down the scissors and picked up the belt, folding it over. “Well, if you really don’t want me touching you …”

They caught a glimpse of her in the mirror, and the blood drained from their face. “No. No, no, no—��

“Just relax. It’ll be over before you know it.”

The hard smack of leather against skin startled her, but the cry it drew from their lips was divine. She paused to admire the mark across their shoulder blade. Their muscles rippled as they panted, squeezing the bar tight. “Don’t—”

She hit them again, and again, and again. Power rushed through her—a more raw, exhilarating kind of power than anything her persuasion could give her. By the seventh strike, Shelby was crying. By the twelfth, their legs shook with the effort of keeping upright. Every whine and whimper and cut-off plea gave her chills; it was absolutely gorgeous.

Still, she couldn’t have fun forever, not if she wanted to keep her toy. She stopped precisely after the fifteenth strike, resting the belt in her hand. A thin sheen of sweat glistened over the welts on Shelby’s back. Gianna couldn’t help it; she put down the belt and ran her hand over their shoulder blades. They cried out, trembling as they arched away.

A thrill ran through her, and she grinned. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m about to make this so much better.” She pulled off her gloves and laid them on the counter.

Shelby cowered away. “Don’t.” Their voice was thick with tears. “Don’t touch me.” They flinched as her hand reached for their shoulder.

As soon as her skin made contact, they went limp—knees thudding against the ground, wrists yanking painfully upwards. A pitiful moan escaped their lips as their big, teary eyes gazed up at her.

A surprised laugh burst from her lips; she hadn’t expected it to work quite that well. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” They nodded eagerly, distressed and desperately leaning into her touch. She cupped their face with her other hand, and they melted against her, eyes slipping shut as she thumbed tears from their cheek. “Oh, you poor thing.” She laughed again, feeling giddy. The rude, defiant person she’d met back at the club was nowhere to be found. Shelby was like putty in her hands.

She let go long enough to unlock the handcuffs, and Shelby whined the whole time, as if they’d rather stay locked up for an eternity if it meant she’d never let them go. Their arms fell limply to their sides, and they winced at the pain, their chafed wrists twitching. The remains of their skimpy top slid down their arms, and they didn’t even seem to notice, still chasing Gianna’s touch. She grabbed the spare t-shirt off the counter and helped them into it. Each brush of her fingers against their skin made them sigh.

Seeing them like this was intoxicating. Of course, Gianna was used to people adoring her, wanting to be near her, but this was something else entirely. Shelby followed her movements like a moth drawn to a flame, desperate for her touch. It was incredible; she could easily get addicted to this.

“Come on, sweet thing, time for bed.” She helped them to their feet, and they clung to her side all the way to the bed. They flopped down like a ragdoll on top of the covers, head lolling on the pillow. God, they were just helpless—maybe she should have held her powers back a little … She caressed their cheek, restraining the flow of her powers as she did so. “God, you’re so stupid like this,” she murmured

To her surprise, there was a flicker of something in their eyes, a downward twitch of their mouth. “’M not …” They shook their head, then paused, as if worried Gianna would disapprove.

“Oh, of course not, beautiful.” She smiled as she climbed onto the bed next to them, sitting up against the headboard. She kept petting their hair. “You’re just so good for me.”

Again, there was that twitch in their face, like they were struggling to form a scowl. Their cheek nuzzled into her palm, muffling their words. “Fuck off.”

Gianna’s eyebrows shot up, and she paused in her caresses. “What did you just say to me, love?” she asked, wondering if she could get them to say it again—wondering how far her powers really extended into their psyche.

They sighed against her skin as their hands balled into fists. “I said, fuck off.”

And yet they curled closer to her, their cheek pressed into her hand. A slow grin spread across Gianna’s face. “Interesting,” she murmured. “Tell me, what does this feel like for you? If you have the capacity to explain, that is.”

Their eyes narrowed, and they finally seemed to break out of their stupor. “Asshole.”

She started petting their hair again, and their eyes fluttered shut with a sigh. “Answer my question, sweet thing.”

They exhaled deeply. “It’s like drugs,” they finally mumbled. A pause. “It’s better than drugs. No pain, just … bliss.”

She hummed thoughtfully. Few people knew about her powers, so she didn’t get many opportunities to experiment like this. “So when I take my hand away …”

She dragged her long, manicured fingernails across their back. “Fuck!” They recoiled, shuddering. “Stop!” As soon as she touched their forehead, they went limp again, swearing under their breath.

“Interesting.” She scratched their scalp absently. She never knew her powers could have a pain relieving effect … This could be interesting—in the future, of course. For now, her little toy needed a break. “You’ve been very good, pet.”

“I’m not—” They shivered with pleasure, leaning into her touch, their voice a low growl. “I’m not your pet. I’m gonna call the fucking cops on you.”

Gianna just hummed doubtfully. “And you really think they’ll believe you? You came here willingly. I didn’t force you to do anything.”

They lifted their head, starting to pull away. “You handcuffed me in your bathroom!”

She grabbed their hair and dragged their head back down against her leg. “You let me do that, pet.” She added just a smidge more persuasion as she massaged her fingers against their scalp. “You could leave, if you wanted to, but you’re lying here with me. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.” They didn’t budge an inch.

“You have such a hard time getting along with people, don’t you?” She kept her tone light, but from the way they flinched, she could tell she’d hit a nerve. “But it’s so nice that you’ve warmed up to me like this. Now you have someone aside from that awful sister of yours.”

Her persuasion didn’t linger for long after an encounter. In the long-term, she couldn’t convince someone of something they didn’t already believe. But if Shelby already believed they were unlikeable, if they felt deep down that no one would take their side in this … Well, if they thought that, then it wasn’t Gianna’s fault, was it?

Shelby shifted against her leg, but they didn’t respond. Gianna kept running her fingers through their hair. Their bangs were fried from bleach; maybe at some point she could help with their hair. After all, she couldn’t have her toy looking like they didn’t take care of themself. But that was a problem for later. “Well, you’ve had a long night,” she murmured. “Get some sleep, beautiful.”

They shook their head. “Don’t want to …” A yawn slipped out, and their eyelids drooped. Before long, their breathing grew deep and even. Gianna smiled and kept petting them, dreaming about what else she might do with her new plaything.

~

Tag list: @whumpshaped @paperprinxe @suspicious-whumping-egg @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @toyybox @mommymarichatfurever @cardboardarsonist

[defensivelee]

ooooh they are so getting married

@unanchored-ship i hope u dont mind that the bruises are not from a (well deserved) beating but james' fun little biting habit... i think he should get his tusks back just for this tbh

[thesovietonion77]

"Trapped." ⚠️(CW SUGGESTIVE!!!!!)⚠️

((That is OIL BTW- IF YOU GET PUNCHED TOO HARD IN THE STOMACH YOU COUGH UP BLOOD))

[t-dick-swag]

I've been so stressed and pissed off

Fuck having a bath-!

I need to fuck someone so hard its borderline a hate crime as I have a knife to their throat

Need to bruise a fucking cervix so they'll be in pain for days later

Need to shove my strap down someone's throat until they choke and not pull back when they push at me and hit at my thigh to stop

Need someone to be tied up under me, begging me to stop as I strap multiple vibrators to them until their crying and their voice gives out

Need to be able to play cult of the lamb while sat on the face of said person and their crying around my t-dick and choking on their tears until their borderline passing out

Need to have a toy thrusting in them until the sheets are soaked and stained, until their completely milked and legs are shaking to the point they can't run as I give them sweet aftercare and give them a sense of security only to drag them into our gods knows which round after and make sure they only pass out while I'm still using them with no sign of stopping

Haven't a clue where all that came from

[wrath-bound-trio]

Never ever EVER give this man an aphrodisiac.

I mean ever!

Aphrodisiacs mess with him in a bad way and whoever is closest will most likely end up in a hospital with a broken pelvis along with several claw and bite marks that would NOT be pleasant. This state can last for days and he won't remember any of it.

So, unless you be into that kind of thing; Do NOT! GIVE! HIM! SEXUAL! ENHANCERS!

[ironunderstands]

Tw for mentions of non con/r@pe

I’m working on the “there was only one bed,” Aventio fic currently, and it’s gonna be centered around aphrodisiacs, so it’s gonna discuss issues of consent, and well, non consent, so even if I’m obviously gonna put it in the tags, I’m just gonna give a heads up on that.

Also no there will be no actual rape/non-con but it will be referenced.

This is just a draft but here’s about as bad as it’s gonna get

Stay safe out there y’all