#tw: non con mention

[isitrecording]

What do you get off to, what makes you hard?

"Ah god, that's a good question. A dominant person, usually a woman. Being told what to do. Panties. Being spoken down to, derogatory statements." He answered, his cheeks growing red as he answered. "Ignoring when I say no."

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader)

18+ MDNI, on Ao3

Chapter 2

Oops! Accidentally wrote another yandere story. This time its Alpha Shanks and Omega Reader.

If I have to keep thinking about it, you can read about it. It’s cringe, it’s overdone, it’s annoying and I don’t care. I did proofread this, but I'll likely do so again in the coming days.

TW: depression, suicidal ideation mentioned, non-con, dubcon, whump, abuse

MIND THE TAGS!

~

Shanks gets more than just the Poneglyphs when he destroys the Victoria Punk, he gets you too. Shanks is kinder than your previous owner, but an Emperor doesn't let treasures slip through his fingers.

~

As you sat on the floor in Kid’s cabin, wrists shackled and chained to his bed, you heard the tell tale sounds of fighting. You knew that Kid was going after Red Haired Shanks in an effort to dislodge the Emperor and take his title. You would never say anything for fear of being slapped across the face or worse, but you didn’t think he was going to win. At least, you hoped he didn’t. You hoped the Emperor killed everyone on board, yourself included. It was what the crew deserved, and your torment would finally end. You would be free of the hell your life had become since the Kid Pirates had taken you from your home. It would probably be a better ending for you than anything else that would happen, anyway.

You’d been living on Beta Island incognito, hiding your status as an Omega. You didn’t want to be sold to a Celestial Dragon in your late teens, as your parents had planned for you. So you’d escaped your home island shortly before your 13th birthday, evading patrol after patrol, living your life on the run. Eventually, you found yourself on Beta Island, which suited you just fine. Only Betas were allowed to live on the island, avoiding all the trouble that the other two dynamics brought with them. You’d taken suppressants since your escape and because you’d never gone into heat, you were able to pass yourself off as a regular Beta. It had been an idyllic time for you, as you worked and made friends with the Betas on your island. You had even deluded yourself into thinking that maybe your life would be alright, when the Kid pirates attacked the island.

You were running away from the chaos and destruction downtown, trying to keep from being spotted as well as you could. Scrambling through an alley, you passed the Captain himself, who was laughing at the bloodshed and pain he was causing innocent people. You thought he hadn’t seen you but you suddenly felt yourself being dragged backwards, back towards the pirate. Panicking, you tried even harder to wriggle away and escape but it proved to be pointless. Later, you found out that he was magnetizing the grommets in your clothes to bring you towards him. Captain Kid grabbed you in his metallic hand once you were close and inhaled a deep whiff of your scent. When you were on suppressants, your ability to scent was dulled but you could still tell you didn’t like his acrid aroma. Kid smelled like sweat, blood, oil, and anger, not an appealing combination. Pushing on the gigantic metallic arm, you tried in vain to dislodge yourself from his grasp. 

“What’s an Omega like you doing on Beta Island?” he asked, crushing your ribs with his gigantic fist. You weren’t sure if he knew his own strength, but he was keeping you in his clutches with ease.

“N-not O-omega,” you grunted out, trying to breathe through the constriction of his hand. You were still squirming, trying to get away from the large pirate.

“Oh yeah? You sure? Your pussy smells like Omega. It’s practically cryin’ for me to take you right here,” he sneered. “Oi! Killer! Take this one back to the ship, lock ‘er in my cabin.” He yelled to a man in a full face mask. Leaning closer to your face, he licked your neck and leered at you. “We’ll find out later if that pussy is Omega or not,” he said, handing you off to Killer. You tried to get away from the masked man, to no avail. Killer was just as strong as his Captain and wasn’t letting you down. Kicking, screaming, pounding his back did nothing as the first mate advanced towards the ship. 

Quickly chaining you to the Captains bed, the first mate considered you for a moment. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice, Omega. Lose the attitude. Otherwise, you won’t last long here.” 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Kid had come back to his cabin once the pirates had sufficiently destroyed your peaceful home. You huddled in the corner of the room, as far as your chains would let you, but the Captain had you before him in seconds. Covered in the blood of your former friends, the Captain had disrobed you, ripping through your clothes like they were paper. 

“Lemme see yer,” Kid said, ogling your now naked form. You tried not to cower, but you couldn’t help but tremble before the raw bloodlust in his eyes. You’d never taken a lover before, you had been too nervous it would interfere with your hormones and expose you as an Omega. Kid's leering had led to groping, which led to much more. That first night he’d bitten, clawed, bruised, kissed, and abused you, leaving you broken in spirit and body. You never fully recovered. You quickly learned he didn’t want you talking, didn't want you making eye contact, didn’t want to hear your crying, didn’t want anything from you except your body. He used you as he saw fit, as ruthless to you as he had been to your island. He never even asked your name, most often calling you ‘Omega,’ or ‘Bitch,’ among other colorful names.

You were the Captain’s sex doll, and the crew treated you as such. No one paid you any mind except to tell you to move the fuck out of the way, or to laugh at you as you stumbled out of the Captain’s quarters when he let you. Killer would occasionally bandage your wounds, but Kid preferred you to wear the marks he put on you. Kid wanted the mating bond to form between the two of you, to solidify the fact that you were his and prevent any rivals from taking you. To do that, he needed to bring you into heat. To try to get you to go into heat, he had tried any old wives tale he could find. He locked you in his quarters, denied you food except for his cum, kept you naked for days on end, bit your neck in a claiming bite, anything that might work. None of it did, but it all left you weakened, depleted, and suicidal. 

Even though you could practically feel his disdain for you, Kid sometimes told you his plans late at night after he finished pumping you full of his come. As you laid with tears drying on your cheeks and blood dripping from fresh wounds he’d given you, he told you about his simmering hatred for Red Haired Shanks and how he wanted his revenge. During these conversations, you encouraged him, praising his strength and skill, and told him that he absolutely was powerful enough to take on the Emperor. You were surprised that your voice held out while you were talking, both from disuse as well as from the effort you had to put into lying to his face. Once when you voiced these opinions, he’d stroked your skin while in thought, the first time his touch hadn’t hurt you. 

The day finally came that he attacked the Emperor. You’d heard him powering up his attack, laughing maniacally as he planned to wipe out the fleet of ships you could see from his cabin window. You cringed, waiting for the sounds of the dying….except it never came. Instead, a sonorous voice boomed out “Divine Departure,” bringing a deafening blast to your ship. Screams had followed, but not the ones you were used to. Rather, you detected the screams coming from the crew, yelling that they didn’t want to die, that the Captain had been defeated, that Killer was also knocked out. 

You couldn’t help it, you laughed long and hard, cackling into the darkness that had consumed the ship. You knew your voice had been ruined from too much choking and screaming, your vocal chords permanently damaged at the hands of your would be Alpha. The sounds you made were harsh and coarse, like a ghoul laughing from beyond the grave. Normally you were too ashamed to speak with your butchered voice, but you were too joyous to care. You were happy he’d received vengeance for some of the violence he brought to the world. You could only hope the ship sank and the rest of you with it. 

A few moments later, the door banged open and Emma stood before you, tears running down her face. She didn’t address you, just unchained you from the post on the Captain's bed and pulled you along with her. She was carrying the Poneglyphs, the Captain’s most prized possession aside from you. Emma was running, giving you barely enough time to avoid being dragged, as she brought you to the center of the deck. She bowed, and when you didn’t follow suit right away, kicked you so that you fell to your knees. Glancing up, you saw why.

All powerful Emperor Red Haired Shanks was on the Victoria Punk, staring down the crew impassively as they pleaded for their lives. You dropped your head, not making eye contact with the Emperor. You’d been hit enough to know that Alphas didn’t want you making eye contact with them in any capacity. Shanks approached Heat, who now held both the Poneglyphs and the end of your chain.

Shanks POV

Shanks observed the panicking Commander as he advanced towards their Captain. Kid’s crew were begging for Shanks’s forgiveness, something that would not be given. They had tried to annihilate his subordinate crews and would have, if Shanks hadn’t acted so quickly. Drawing a gun was dangerous, it put your life on the line. And Kid had been given a warning when Beckman shot off his arm. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way. 

A young woman brought the Road Poneglyphs in her hands, along with someone attached to the end of a chain. Handing her Commander both items, the blue haired girl bowed in supplication to Shanks, awaiting his judgment. Noting the chained woman didn’t do the same, the girl kicked the battered woman, bringing her to her knees. Shanks took the Poneglyphs from the Commander, who also handed him the end of the chain of the cowering woman. Shanks had no interest in slaves, he didn’t keep or want any. The slave kept her gaze averted, looking at the ground as she trembled. Her body was littered with bruises in various stages of healing, as well as cuts and welts. She bore a savage mating bite that was clearly infected, along with bruising circling her neck. Breathing in deeply, Shanks hid his surprise as he realized the small woman was an Omega. 

Omegas were exceedingly rare in the world, they were either sold to Celestial Dragons for an incredible amount of money, or outright stolen from their homes. If an Omega bred with an Alpha or Apex Alpha during their heat, the offspring was guaranteed to be either an Alpha or Omega, unlike other pairings. Because the Celestial Dragons took or bought nearly all of the Omegas in the world, wild Omegas were unbelievably scarce. Shanks hadn’t heard of one being found in over a decade. How the Kid pirates had managed to find one and kept her a secret, Shanks didn’t know. 

He said nothing as his own ship passed by, his crew calling out to him. Shanks removed his Emperor’s cloak, covering the shivering woman in its warmth and his scent. Your small trembling fingers took the fabric and held it shut around your body, as you sniffed the material. You still hadn’t said a word or looked at anything besides the floor, but there would be time to investigate later. Throwing the Omega over his shoulder, Shanks took the Poneglyphs in hand and stepped on the railing of the enemy ship. You were light and put up no struggle when Shanks took you, the only sound emanating from you was the clinking of your chains.

“Look over on the island!” Shanks heard the offending crew yell as he launched himself onto the Red Force. The Omega didn’t shout or scream, just gripped his shoulder a little more tightly as he darted into the air. Landing on the Red Force, Shanks yelled out for Hongo.

“Meet me in my cabin. Ten minutes,” Shanks ordered. The doctor nodded his assent, and went below deck, likely to the infirmary to gather supplies. Handing the Poneglyphs to Beckman, Shanks shifted the Omega in his arms so he was carrying you with his arm under your legs. You moved your face so it was buried in the crook of Shanks’s neck, avoiding looking at either the ship or the crew assembled on the deck. He hoped you were acclimating yourself to his scent, it would make your transition away from your previous mate easier. Even through the fear and pain Shanks smelled on you, he could tell your scent was absolutely delicious, like no other woman he’d smelled before. His cock twitched with the thought of claiming you for his own, though your medical issues needed attention first.

Bringing you to his cabin, Shanks shut the door behind you quietly. Depositing the woman onto his bed, you shrank back further into the cloak as if to hide yourself. You gripped the hem of the garment so hard that your fingers were turning white, matching your face as the color drained out. Ah , Shanks thought to himself, she thinks I’m going to ravage her right now like some animal . It made sense, he’d put you on his bed, what else were you going to think? 

Sitting down next to you on the bed, Shanks didn’t speak. Instead, for the first time in the Emperor’s life, he purred. He was an Apex Alpha, a rare breed of Alpha who was able to control other Alphas. It came with Conqueror’s Haki, the two traits going hand in hand. Purring came to him instinctively, but he’d never felt the urge to do so before. He’d had lovers who’d requested it, but Shanks had always laughed them off like they’d told a joke. But seeing you distressed made the rumble come almost unbidden, rising from his chest like a balm. You still didn’t look at him, but your fingers relaxed incrementally. Shanks continued purring for you as you tensed at his presence next to you, tenderly picking you up to sit on his lap. You sat upright, stiff, your body rigid with fear and apprehension.

“Easy, little Omega, easy,” Shanks said between purrs. You didn’t respond but didn’t object either physically or verbally to anything he was doing. Shanks wound his arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The rhythmic sounds were working, lulling you into a state of relaxation and calm as your hands dropped to your lap and your head relaxed against his chest.

Your POV

You were gripping onto the Emperor’s black cloak like it was going to shield you from whatever was going to happen next. It was heavy and warm, smelling like tobacco, cloves, and oranges, a heady combination. Even if your life would be no better under the Emperor, at least this scent wouldn’t make the bile rise in your throat. 

You were still avoiding his gaze, your wrists shaking in the chains under his watch. He’d put you on his bed, likely for the same reasons Kid always had. At least he hadn’t thrown you against the wall or forced you to suck his cock first, making you choke until you cried or passed out. Much to your dismay, he began to purr for you. You’d heard stories during your childhood about the Alpha purr. There were whispers that it was a form of mind control, that it was used to beguile Omegas into doing things against their will. Kid had already done a lot of things against your will, the Emperor didn’t need to purr to make you do anything. You hoped this wasn't a precursor to something vile, though you were long past wishful thinking.

But as the Emperor continued to purr and moved you into his lap, you felt it working despite your efforts to remain alert. The soothing rumble had you taking deep breaths and relaxing your hands. You felt your exhaustion returning to you, adrenaline finally having run its course. Against your better judgment, you laid your head on the broad chest of the Emperor behind you. His well muscled arm encircled you, and you were content to forget the horrors that would likely await you in the coming days, feeling only the warmth and comfort of an Apex Alpha’s purr.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door of the cabin, making you jerk upright once again. You’d looked at the door when you’d been surprised, but you quickly affixed your gaze to the floor once again. You hoped Shanks hadn’t seen your mistake, or that he would be willing to forgive you if he did. But he didn’t move to strike you at all, just called out to whoever had the audacity to bother the Captain. 

“Come in, Hongo,” he said calmly. You wanted to hide your face in the crook of his neck again, but you knew there would be no solace found seeking comfort where there was none. Opening the door, a large man with blonde hair came inside, carrying a black leather doctor’s case. You said nothing and remained in place, it was the safest route for the time being. The man, whose name you now knew to be Hongo, walked slowly towards you and his Captain, as if he was walking towards a wild animal.

“How’re we doin’, Captain?” he asked, surveying the scene in front of him. The Captain obviously hadn’t been hurt, he was talking about you.

“Alright,” Shanks answered, arm squeezing you a little tighter. You flinched as the memories of being crushed by Kid’s arm came flooding back to you. “They had an Omega. She needs some help,” he said softly, patting your thigh over his cloak. You were acutely aware that you were completely nude below the cloak. You hoped Shanks wouldn’t take you in front of Hongo, or at least not for the first time. Kid had done whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter to him who saw what he did to you. 

“Sure, no problem,” Hongo replied easily, opening his bag. He brought out a stethoscope first, something you were familiar with. Winding the scope around his neck, he slowly pried the cloak out of your fingers in order to put the bell on your skin. You desperately wanted to stay within the safety of the cloak, but you knew you had no power. If they wanted to see you naked, they were going to get what they wanted. Surprisingly, Hongo didn’t remove the cloak completely, allowing you use it to cover your breasts and lower half while he worked. As Hongo placed the buds in his ears and reached towards you with the scope, you leaned back and away from the advancing hands. You hadn’t meant to, it was instinctive. Shanks started purring for you again as he gently but firmly kept you in place for Hongo, his arm across your waist.

“You’re safe, Omega, he’s not going to hurt you. He’s just checking your lungs and heart,” the Captain said softly. Hongo took his time listening, moving the scope around your back and front. Once he was done, he put the scope away and took out medical gloves. 

“I’m gonna check the wounds on your top half and neck, OK?” Hongo informed you. You said nothing as he began touching the injuries that you’d suffered at the hands of Kid. You kept yourself from making any noises of pain or recoiling when he touched something painful. You knew you looked beaten and ugly, despite avoiding the mirror. Kid always left bite marks, bruises, hickeys, and cuts whenever he was with you. Your breasts looked like they’d been mauled the last time you’d checked them. But the worst of all was your neck - between the times he’d choked you, the bite he’d given you, and the attention he gave your scent glands nightly, it was a column of black and blue. In spite of your efforts, you hissed when Hongo touched your neck tried to move away from his efficient hands. 

But the men weren’t going to let you shrink away from the medical inspection. Shanks cradled your head against his shoulder when Hongo inspected the agonizing bite on the spot between your neck and shoulder, purring all the while. You knew there was something wrong with it, but Kid had never let you touch it or clean the wound, saying that it would affect your mating bond. You thanked the seas that the bond hadn’t formed, but the throbbing pain of the bite had only gotten worse.

“You’ve got a lot of wounds on your torso and neck. Are there more below?” Hongo asked quietly when he was done inspecting your top half. You waited, not knowing if they wanted you to respond or not. Sometimes it was a trick, people would talk about you while you were there but if you responded, you got in trouble. 

“Hm, do you? I thought I saw some before,” Shanks asked you benignly, rubbing his fingers in circles over your skin. They were both quiet for a few moments and you realized they were waiting for you to respond. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk, so you gave a shaky nod while continuing to look at the floor.

“I’m gonna have to look, OK?” Hongo said, crouching down in front of the Captain. He was trying to make eye contact, but you steadfastly stared down, in order to show your obedience. You blinked rapidly several times, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes. You’d been naked in front of so many people, but the fact that Hongo was asking made you feel more vulnerable than ever. You nodded again, but your hands were frozen in place, gripping the cloak with all your meager strength.

“Brave little Omega, doing so well,” the Emperor said into your hair, kissing the top of your head. You didn’t know when the last time you’d been allowed to bathe was, you were sure you smelled disgusting. Shanks unwound his arm from your waist, and slowly tugged the fabric from your hands, letting it fall onto your lap. You tried not to squirm, not to move as the doctor touched your welts and cuts, but you felt humiliated and debased as he poked and prodded you. After a few minutes of inspection, Hongo sighed, stood up to his full towering height and snapped off the gloves.

“There’s a lot going on,” he said to the Emperor, who had rapidly covered you back in the cloak. “She’s got a lot of wounds, some healing, some new. That bite on her neck is infected, it needs to be taken care of immediately. She’s malnourished and has at least one broken rib. And she’s going to go into heat soon.” 

Your eyes finally snapped to the doctor’s, everything lost to the panic suddenly overwhelming you. 

Shanks POV

Perhaps having Dorry and Broggy destroy the ship wasn’t enough. As Shanks watched you flinch away from Hongo’s inspection, his rage rose by the second. He’d seen your naked form on the ship, but the dim light hadn’t revealed to him the depth of your injuries. It was practically a miracle that you were still alive, Shanks thought. It was well known that Omegas weren’t as durable as Betas and Alphas, they were generally treated with care like the treasures they were. But not only were you littered with wounds from head to toe, but you were a shell of a person. You hadn’t said a single word, you hadn’t made eye contact with him yet, and you hadn’t moved an inch outside of where Shanks had placed you. 

Now, with the information that you were going into heat soon, you were panicking. Shanks could feel your heart beating rapidly and saw your chest rising and falling too quickly. The Alpha in him was worried, wanting to soothe the Omega still perched on his lap. Shanks put his hand over your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Even if the Alpha in him wanted to purr and cuddle you until you calmed down, the Captain needed to get a little more information out of you first. You were still lost in your own world, not responding to any stimulus.

“It’s alright, Sweetheart. Everything is going to be just fine. When was your last heat, hmm?” Shanks asked, holding your face in his hand. The touch seemed to ground you, causing you to blink rapidly as if you suddenly remembered there were other people in the room. You shook your head at his question, making Shanks frown at your answer. The longer an Omega went without a heat, the lengthier and more severe the symptoms were when it reappeared. Shanks hoped you hadn’t gone into heat during your time in captivity, it would increase the likelihood of an unwanted pregnancy. Looking at your body, he couldn’t imagine you were capable of carrying life in your current state. 

“What do you mean, little Omega? You haven’t had a heat in a year? Or longer?” Shanks asked. He knew you were scared and upset, but he and Hongo needed to know this information, it was part of the way they would take care of you. He gently turned your face towards his, forcing you to look up at him. You finally looked at his face, though you didn’t meet his eyes. You shook your head again.

“Tell me more, I need to know how to help you,” Shanks prompted, stroking your cheek. You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather yourself before speaking.

“Never,” you said in a hoarse whisper. Shanks recognized the voice from the laughter in the wake of battle.

“Never? What do you mean? This would be your first heat?” Hongo asked incredulously. Shanks hadn’t met another Omega, but it was known that they typically had their first heat cycle in their upper teens. 

You nodded, a tear running down your cheek. 

[kiame-sama]

Chubby Cuddles - (Yandere!Dabi x Chubby!Reader)

Warnings; yandere, mention of kidnapping, NSFW, non-con, rough, overstimulation, mentions of burns, spanking, Dabi likes being called degrading words, mention of ongoing non-con, gender neutral reader, chubby reader, very little- if any at all- plot, Dabi is objectively an asshole,

~~~~~~~~

Slowly rolling his hips, Dabi realized the warm and plush feeling of his dearest's body pressed up against his own was soothing in ways he never expected. Each time his sharp hips pressed so close to the squishy thighs of his lover, he couldn't help but want more. He loved the way the soft flesh was so easy to take handfuls of, squeezing and toying with the ample body that lay next to him.

Sure, they were not there of their own free will, but them just being there with him was enough for him. He adored the warm feeling of their plush body against his own burned flesh, basking in the pleasure of being entertained with them. Even if they struggled and whimpered each time he kissed their sweet chubby cheeks, he couldn't help but feel like he deserved this one thing.

He deserved to have them however he wanted.

He was the one to hunt them down and bring them back with him, after all. They had not been too pleased with the man breaking into their home at night and he certainly kidnapped them earlier than he would have liked. Plans change in the heat of the moment and then waking up to him rummaging through their dirty laundry was enough to let them know what a deranged pervert he was.

"L-leave me alone you- you sick pervert-!"

Their voice was strained and tinged with tears as they whined and gasped, trying to put as much venom in their tone as possible. The words had the opposite intended effect on him however. Each degrading word was like a sick shot of dopamine to Dabi's ruined mind, only pounding his hips forward even harder.

Due to being behind them and on his side, Dabi could feel the warm slap of their round ass against his stomach, his hands sinking into their plush hips. He couldn't stop his fingernails from digging into that warm fat and just losing himself in the feeling of his cock being suffocated by their plush body. The squeeze was enough to keep him going even if they happened to pass out like they did that first night he took them.

"Fuck... And what else? What else am I, Doll-face? Tell me how mean and awful I am..!"

"You- you bastard! You're sick, and disgusting, and a monster, and-!"

The soft figure he lay next to cut off with a cute squeal of overstimulation as their third orgasm of the evening washed over them. Their body tensed up and Dabi couldn't help but moan deeply, moving to lay on top of their warm body and hump them viciously like a rabbit in a rut. Even as they began to babble about being too sensitive to handle his continued treatment, he ignored them.

Part of his mind wondered if giving them a nice burn on that plush round ass of theirs would shut them up, but he decided he liked them begging more than being silent. If anything, their pathetic voice pleading for him to have mercy on them only spurred him on faster and harder. He loved the way each thrust resulted in a nice jiggle through their body as it withstood the impact of his hips against them.

The satisfying slap of skin against skin was almost as appealing as the feeling of laying over their plush body. Dabi rubbed his cheek against their back, feeling the plush flesh on his staples. He even let his tongue slowly trace lines over their soft body loving how they shivered from the soft drag of his piercing.

"You can do better than that. Keep going."

"You- you are-!"

"Aww, what's wrong, Doll-face? Too fucked out to say anything? Good. Just keep this nice fat ass in the air for me and I will do the rest."

It was the only kind of affection Dabi could really understand at that point, and so he was going to force it on his dearest regardless of if they liked it or not. Sure, he would cuddle them and bite up their soft body later, but for now he just wanted to fuck them stupid. It was more to keep his own mind quiet than it was to exert control over them, but the control piece did plenty to get Dabi off anyway.

"Beg for me not to cum in you and I might consider pulling out."

"Please- please don't-"

"I said," Dabi hissed, bringing one hand down to leave a stinging print on their plush ass, "beg."

"Please don't cum in me, D-Dabi! Please! I don't want you to- to cum in me, please!"

Dabi grinned in a feral way and made sure to thrust as deeply as he could before letting his cock burst in them, filling up every little part of their body with his white cream. The soft sob from his squishy beloved beneath him only added to the feeling as he tried to squeeze every last bit out into them.

"Oops. Sorry, Doll-face, didn't hear you. Next time you should scream it if you want me to listen to you."

His laugh was sinister and all his dearest could do was let their head hang in shame for allowing this monster to abuse them the way he did. Even if they hated him, he still got what he wanted in the end and he just loved the fear and disdain in their eyes as they looked at him.

It wasn't much, but to Dabi's fucked up mind, it was enough.

[sweatandwoe]

After reading some Astarion takes, I can say with full certainty, that I would not trust some of you to not slutshame or insult SA victims for having sex

[searenbound]

The first time I brought up yandere Shouto having a few wires crossed and associated sex with abuse rather than love because of his parents relationship it flopped.

But if I tell you yan Shouto murders your hook up because saw him on top of you because it pissed him off that if you were to have sex that you choose someone else…

If I told you that the image of your blissed out face is burned in to his mind and he’s horrified by the lustful thoughts he’s suddenly having about you…

If I told you that he quickly accepts his conclusion that he must be a monster and acts on that conclusion and lust, how would we feel?

[flymmsy]

Freaky Gortash Kinks

Just some freaky flavored Gortash kinks I don’t see as often.

Tongue, in general. I think he loves to use his tongue and will truly stick it anywhere - but the best is when it isn’t necessary doing anything, it just darts out against his partner’s skin. Especially in public - a quick glance around the room before licking up his partner’s neck and then acting like nothing happened.

Mental sex. If his partner could create a psychic connection with him, Gortash would love fucking in their minds while trying to hold it together in a meeting. And honestly? He doesn’t hate the thought of coming in his pants either.

Exhibitionism. His partner wants to physically fuck in the middle of a meeting? Okay! Gortash at the head of a table of Banites, halting the meeting to bounce his partner on his cock while they all watch, and then continuing business as if nothing had happened.

Getting caught. Secretly loves being caught in the act when sneaking around with his partner. Also loves being walked in on when masturbating (making it everyone else’s problem.)

Sex pollen, but purposefully taken. He loves not being able to stop, and the sex pollen gives him a justification for loss of control.

Plug tasting. Loves putting a plug in his partner’s ass, taking it out to taste it casually, and then putting it back in. Also loves when his partner puts a plug in his ass and makes him taste himself.

Dry humping. The idea of rubbing his cock against anything and everything gets him off.

Knotting. If there was any magical way for him to be able to knot inside his partner, this man would be feral for it. Would also want the same from any partner fucking him.

Body swap. Would love to make someone watch themselves as a form of punishment, would also love to watch himself get wrecked.

[sillygoose1777]

Chapter 1: Disobedience sparks pity

word count: 4114

Tags: Servant whumpee, caretaker, humiliation whump, royal whump, royal caretaker, whump, tw whipping, tw slavery, whipped whumpee, non con stripping, whumpee taken in by royalty, crossdressing whumpee, og ocs, og world, og story, whumpee, whumper, noble whumper, whumpee perceived as female, possessive whumper, mentions of past trauma, mentions of past torture, tw stoning, past injuries mentioned, non con nudity, stern caretaker, multple care takers, multiple whumpers, forceful caretaking, fear of eye contact, defiant whumpee, whumpee that doesn’t talk a lot, curious caretaker, stranger whumpee and caretaker, mentions of non con activity, mentions of forced non con, manhandling, healing arc

Sonnet flinched as his master’s whip flew past his head, barely missing his ear. The next time his master didn’t miss, connecting with his shoulder and splitting his skin open. He cried out, having already lost count at what number lashing that was. Two more followed after before his master finally started wrapping the whip around his arm. 

Sweat dripped into Sonnets eyes despite the wind being cool this morning. The sun had only begun to rise a couple of minutes ago, shining light onto the small crowd that had gathered. Humiliation burned in Sonnet’s cheeks, and he leaned against the wooden pole he was tied too. He was sitting on his knees with his wrists tied behind him, making his shoulders strain. His torn up servant dress was in taters before him, though his skirt safely covered everything below the waist. Despite everything, he somehow had enough dignity, or stupidity depending on who you asked, to glare at his master. Mr.Winslow caught his eye and fumed. He advanced on Sonnet, grabbing his jaw and forcing him upwards. His shoulders screamed, if not for his voice. 

“You stupid boy, show some shame for your crime!” His master screamed in his face.

“Make me,” Sonnet spat.

That comment made Mr.Winslow livid, and he kicked Sonnet in the ribs. Sonnet struggled to heave in a breath through the pressure in his chest, and he leaned forward like a wilted flower. Clearly not done with his anger, Mr.Winslow took a swing at Sonnet. His fist connected with Sonnet’s cheekbone, cutting skin open. Sonnet saw stars as an insistent ringing began in his ears. He could hear Mr.Winslow speaking but couldn’t make sense of it. 

Once Sonnet was able to blink away the stars, he saw that his master was speaking to the slightly larger crowd. Sonnet could just make out Mr Winslow barking out an order for ‘no one to touch his stupid slave’. Then Mr.Winslow walked away to drag his pitiful wife home. Mrs.Winslow looked over her shoulder at Sonnet and mouthed ‘I’m sorry’. She had always liked Sonnet, and was usually very kind to him. But no matter how much she tried, she could never get Sonnet out of Mr.Winslow’s punishments. 

The ringing in his ears slowly dimmed to nothing but the voices of the crowd. Some were still watching, others had grown bored and walked away. Sonnet avoided eye contact with all of them. The last thing he needed was to realize just how much he had humiliated himself. He was likely going to sit there till sunset where Mr.Winslow would hand him right over to a merchant to resell him. 

Sonnect closed his eyes and started collecting his thoughts. If Mr.Winslow really was going to sell him, there was no way he would be seeing any of his stuff again. Even if they did let him keep his stuff, it would likely be taken from him by the next family he was bought by. And on the off chance Mrs.Winslow could convince her husband not to get rid of him, he would be dumped in the furnace room to work till exhaustion. He didn’t know which one he wanted less. 

…

Sonnet looked up at the sky and deduced it was a little past noon. The sun burned into his skin, making it turn bright red and soaked with sweat. He was still shirtless from this morning's whipping, and would likely be for a while unless a townsperson decided to cover him with something. That's how it worked in the kingdom of Montrose. If servants were disobedient to their masters, their master had the choice of how they would like to deal with it. Public humiliation was a popular pick, beating lessons into most servants the first time. If the public felt bad enough, they could give the punished water and feed them, could even give them clothes in Sonnet’s case. But most would not, either convinced the victim deserved it or too scared of the public eye would shame them for helping the weak. 

So Sonnet let the sun roast his skin and parch his tongue. The blood that once poured from his wounds dried on his skin. The market had long been set up and became a bustling place for passersbys. Everyone would give him a wide berth, not daring to get their polished shoes near what they considered filth. Sonnet liked it that way, it meant no one would further harm him. 

That was until a group of boys started making a beeline for him. Sonnet noticed the stones in their hands and felt a sense of dread. Before they had even made it within the circle everyone else avoided, they were throwing the stones and shouting obscenities at him. Bruises would definitely bloom later, joining the list of injuries Sonnet would have to tend to. In the distance, Sonnet thought he could hear a trumpet being played over the boys shouting. 

Sonnet continued to shrink away from the boys until he heard the sound of horse hooves clattering on the sidewalk. The king was back from his trip from a nearby country, and he was coming down this very street. The boys who were once throwing stones realized this as well and froze. The horses were thundering down the street fast with the crowd already parted away. One of the boys tried to dart away, either from fear of being caught or the fear of being trampled. It clearly couldn't be the second as the boy ran straight in front of the horse's path. 

Everyone including Sonnet gasped in horror as the knights reared the horses, towering over the boy. A few members of the crowd screamed as the horses came down, knocking the boy to the ground. As soon as the hooves touched the ground, the knights were climbing off their horses and dragging the boy up. Yelling and threatening him, the crowd divided into chaos. In the corner of his eye, Sonnet saw the door of the carriage fling open. He held his breath as he watched the king himself leave the safety of the carriage. 

“SILENCE!” The king's voice boomed over the crowd. 

Sonnet watched in awe as everyone within the next few miles stilled. The king glared around, clearly already in an awful mood only to be dealing with unruly people. The king walked over to the boy, his friends having abandoned him. One of the knights neared the king with hesitancy. 

“Your highness, it's not safe out here–” The king raised his hand to silence the knight. 

“What happened here?” he asked calmly. 

“I-I didn’t hear the trumpets and tried getting out of the way,” the boy said, cowering under the gaze of the king. The king huffed, then noticed something. 

“What are you holding?”

The knight holding the boy let go assuming the king was talking to him. The boy also raised his hands for the king to see. There were two small stones in his hands, waiting to be thrown at Sonnet. 

“Why do you have stones?”

“I uh um, I like collecting s-stones?” The kid stammered. The king eyed him as the boy's friends sniggered in the crowd. 

Feeling someone staring at him, the king turned around. Sonnet immediately averted his gaze and looked at the king's shoes. He instantly became aware of his shame and his cheeks started to go red like his sunburns. He looked down at his bloodied, sun burned, and sweat stained skin and wished he could have been swallowed up by the earth at that moment. Having been deep in his thoughts of humiliation, Sonnet hadn’t noticed that the king was standing in front of him. Sonnet looked up at the king before realizing his mistake and averting his gaze again. 

The king took in the sight before him. A bloodied and beaten servant was stripped nearly bare and tied down on display. He noticed the rocks surrounding the servant and connected the dots together. The king turned to his knights to address them. 

“Bring me some water for this servant to drink. And arrest that boy for stoning a citizen of Montrose.” 

Two knights grabbed the boy and dragged him off in anger as his friends watched in shock. A third knight presented a water bottle to the king which he took. The king then knelt down and cupped Sonnet’s cheek.

“Untie him,” the king ordered his knight. He then turned to Sonnet and began helping him drink water. The cold water rushed down his parched throat, cooling his flaming insides. The king paused the water stream when Sonnet sagged forward once he was released from the ropes tying him down. The king offered the water bottle to Sonnet and he took it, finishing it in a few messy gulps. He wiped away the few drops that escaped his mouth and flinched when the king draped him in something. He realized it was the king's cloak and he stared in astonishment. 

The king was too busy speaking to his knights. Sonnet closed the king's cloak further in to cover up as much of his bloodied chest as possible. In the next moment, arms pulled him up from his armpits and he yelped. He held the skirts at his waist, making sure they wouldn’t fall down as he wobbled on unsteady legs. He was dragged by the knight up and into the king's carriage, before being sat across from the king. The door shut behind the knight, leaving only the king and Sonnet staring at each other. 

He avoided making eye contact with the king, it was what he was taught since he was a kid. They sat in awkward silence as the carriage lurched forward and began to move. Sonnet grabbed onto the railing, startled by the movement. The king chuckled quietly and Sonnet blushed. This was getting increasingly uncomfortable for him, and he almost wished he was left at the whipping post. 

“Why were you tied there?” the king asked. Sonnet pulled the cloak further in on himself to hide the marks. Sonnet tried formulating the words, to try and sum up all the variables that played into today’s punishment. 

“Because I wasn’t a woman,” Sonnet finally said. He could tell that the king was confused but didn’t know if continuing to explain would be over stepping. So he stayed silent, like he always did. 

In actuality it was more than him not being a woman. Mr.Winslow always resented Sonnet, and often looked for any reason to punish him. But it came to a head this morning when Sonnet wore his servants dress like he always did. He helped Mrs. Winslow with her morning bath like he always did. Mrs. Winslow and a few other staff were the only ones who knew Sonnet was really a man. Though they didn’t seem to mind, if anything they seemed to find it attractive which only increased Sonnet’s discomfort as their servant. Apparently, Mr.Winslow was never informed of Sonnet’s identity and had always assumed that Sonnet was a woman. He was also known for having romantic flings with women other than his wife. So when Mr.Winslow made his advancement and Sonnet turned him down, he tried to force himself onto Sonnet, thus learning that he was in fact not a woman. He never actually told the king that, because he never asked. But it was sad for him to think about. 

The king never filled that silence. He stared at Sonnet for the majority of the ride to the castle, no longer amused whenever Sonnet would startle from a bump in the road. Sonnet gripped the railing of the carriage tight, to stop him from falling onto the king's feet. There was no need to further prove his humiliation. 

Sonnet could tell when they had reached the castle gates when the carriage became enveloped in voices. Soon they were rolling through the gates and stopped before one of the side entries into the castle. The doors of the carriage opened and the knight waiting there helped the king down. Sonnet hesitated and before he could make the decision to leave or stay, the same knight that helped the king before now yanked him out of the carriage. He stumbled and was barely able to catch his balance before he hit the floor. An iron glove gripped Sonnet’s arm and held him close, making sure he wouldn’t escape. The king was too busy talking to some of his royal staff to notice the mistreatment of his new possession. But the man who was currently talking to the king did. 

“--I'm sorry to hear about the failed- who is that?” the man across from the king asked. The king turned around and seemed to remember that Sonnet existed. 

“Oh, him.” The king snapped and a servant scurried over. “Go tell Sister Florence to run a bath for this servant. I want him properly dressed and seen by a physician afterwards.” As the servant walked away, the king motioned to the knight holding Sonnet to follow. 

The grip on Sonnet’s arm tightened where he swore it would leave bruises, and he was dragged off into the castle. The servant they were following split off in a different direction than the knight was taking him, presumably to grab whoever Sister Florence was. There were several times where Sonnet nearly fell from the pace at which they were walking. And everytime the guard would scoff and yank him onward. By the time they had reached a spacious and lavishly designed bathroom, the knight was more than happy to let go of them. 

Sonnet stood alone in the entrance of the bathroom, too scared to step further in or to leave. So instead he looked upwards as he pulled the cloak closer together. There was an intricate chandelier above him, twinkling glass charms dangling from lit candles. It was a luxury Sonnet never personally experienced, never allowed to be in fancy bathrooms unless he was with Mrs Winslow. 

There was a knock on the door and Sonnet startled. He stared as a woman dressed in all black entered, followed by a handmaiden. The woman in black gave him a sweet smile and extended her hand to him. 

“My name’s Sister Florence, I was sent to make sure you were properly taken care of.” 

Sonnet neither spoke nor took her hand to shake it, leaving the room to rest in awkward silence. Sister Florence let her hand fall to her side after a few moments of no movement. 

“Well, I’ll go draw that bath for you,” she said, walking past Sonnet and further into the bathroom. The handmaiden scurried after her, barely giving him a second glance. He started to wonder if it was too late to leave now. 

Sonnet could hear water running from where he was left standing. In a few minutes he watched the mirrors in the distance start to fog up from steam. The air became filled with scented oils, rich with lavender and lemongrass. Scents he only knew the names of because of the amount of times he had run them for Ms. Winslow. 

“Come on dear,” Sister Florence called. 

Reluctantly, Sonnet stepped further into the bathroom. Sister Florence had her hand in the water to test the temperature while the handmaiden was bringing soap bottles to the edge of the bathtub. Noticing him, Sister Florence flicked the water droplets from her hand and came closer. 

“Put your hands on my shoulder.”

Sonnet didn’t listen and watched as she knelt onto the floor. She pulled his foot out from under him and he stumbled, inevitably grabbing her shoulders. She carefully took off his shoes and chucked them to the side. Sonnet took his hands off of her as she stood up. She grabbed the cloak and pulled it off of him. The handmaiden behind him gasped and covered her mouth. Sonnet flushed, feeling exposed, both literally and metaphorically. 

“Ameila! Watch yourself,” Sister Florence scolded.

“Sorry sister,” Amelia replied. 

Sister Florence turned back to Sonnet and took his hand in hers. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, my dear. Now, let's get the rest of these clothes off of you.” 

He was thankful when Sister Florence let go of his hand. He was not so thankful when they began to take off the rest of his clothes till he had nothing left to wear. All of his clothes were tossed haphazardly onto a pile. Sonnet unclipped his dagger sheath he had attached to his thigh for Sister Florence and handed it to him carefully. She took it and looked at it curiously before setting it carefully on the bathroom counter. He was then guided into the bath, more or less against his will. Despite his reluctance, the water was quite warm and soothing. The soapy water stung against his open wounds, making them alight with fire. 

He audibly winced when Sister Florence dumped water over his back. She and the handmaiden Ameila took great care in washing him. He hated the hands that were on him, invading his skin. They lathered soap into his skin then rinsed it off before repeating it over again. By the fourth time he was rinsed, his skin felt as if it was rubbed raw. 

Sister Florence then had Sonnet sit as close to the edge of the tub as possible and tilted his head back. As he looked up at the ceiling she scrubbed shampoo into his hair. He almost relaxed into her touch, the feeling somewhat soothing. She titled his head up again and blocked his eyes while dumping water over his head. She repeated this process again before doing it one more time with conditioner. With his head thoroughly washed and the bath water having turned murky gray, they finally let him out of the bath. 

He was wrapped in one of the softest bath towels he’d ever known. Sister Florence sent the handmaiden Amila to grab his clothes while she gently rubbed him dry. Amila came back with clothes in hand. Sister Florence went to take off his towel when he stepped back.

“I can dress myself,” the first words he said to her. Sister Florence seems surprised that he spoke but respected his wish. She and the handmaiden Amila turned around while he carefully dressed. Sonnet quietly grabbed his dagger off the counter and strapped it back to his thigh. He adorned undergarments, a silk button up shirt, and wide length shorts. He was slightly disappointed he wasn’t allowed to wear a dress, but he made no fuss about it. Sister Florence and Amila turned around while he was pulling up the socks they had given him. Sister Florence had him sit down while she began to work on his hair and Amila helped him put on shoes. 

After about twenty minutes, his hair was brushed out and trimmed slightly to shoulder length. Sonnet protested against any length shorter than that. Sister Florence helped Sonnet stand up and they led him out of the bathroom. Stepping into fresh air that wasn’t filled with scented oils felt intoxicating. He followed quietly as they brought him to a bedroom. It looked like a noble’s personal suite, much too big for a servant to stay. 

“A physician will be with you shortly,” Sister Florence told him before leaving him alone in the room. 

Sonnet didn’t know what to do with his new found aloneness. He looked around the room without moving, letting himself admire the room. He could tell this was a guest bedroom with how unlived in it looked. He wondered when the last time someone had touched this room besides servants cleaning it. Would he be the first to grace this room with a living breath? A very exhausted, yet living breath. 

The door opened and Sonnet snapped his head to look at the person who entered. It was a man in a doctor's coat, holding a briefcase in one hand and the doors handle in the other. He smiled at Sonnet and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. 

“I’m Dr. Clarke, and you are?” the physician asked. 

“Sonnet.” 

“That’s a lovely name.” Sonnet didn’t respond. “If I could have you sit on the bed, we can get started,” Dr. Clarke said as he gestured to the bed. 

Sonnet followed his gaze and sat on the very edge of the bed. Dr. Clarke followed, setting his briefcase near Sonnet. He opened it up and pulled out a few tools. He started by checking Sonnets eyes, ears, and mouth. Once the normal routines were done, Dr. Clarke put away his tools and put on a set of gloves. 

“If I could have you take off your shirt for me.”

Sonnet did as he was told, and held the folded shirt in his lap. Dr. Clarke began his work with each wound. Pouring antiseptics into the open ones, burning out any possible infection. Gently covering them in ointment before wrapping them in cloth. He would gently press against any bruises Sonnet had to test whether they needed attention or not. He had Sonnet turn around so that he could do the same thing over again for all the wounds on his back. Those ones hurt the most and Sonnet had to bite his tongue multiple times to stop himself from crying. Sonnet was allowed to turn back around when the physician was done. He buttoned his shirt back up while Dr. Clarke changed his gloves.

“Now I’ll have you take off your pants,” Dr. Clarke stated. 

Sonnet hesitated under the physician's gaze, but eventually took them off. There were fewer wounds for Dr. Clarke to focus his attention on, making it a lot quicker then when he worked on his torso. As soon as Dr. Clarke was done, Sonnet pulled his shorts back on, wanting to be left alone. Dr. Clarke packed up his briefcase, then handed a bottle to Sonnet. 

“Drink a cap-full of this tonic with every meal till your bruises are gone.” 

Sonnet held the bottle in his hands as the physician left. He leaned against the bed and exhaustion finally settled onto his shoulders. He looked out the window of the guest room and saw that the sun had well past setting. Stars were already creeping up the skyline. Just when Sonnet thought he had actually been left alone for the night, there was a knock on his door. A servant walked in with a tray of food. They set it down on a side table next to some bookshelves before addressing Sonnet. 

“I was told to inform you that you will be spending the night here. Silas will be coming to get you in the morning for your audience with the king.” 

They then gave a small head bow before leaving the room. Sonnet looked at the bottle in his hand before sighing and walking over to the tray of food. A small voice in his head warned him of the food being poisoned, but at this point he really didn’t care. So what if the king had him treated this nicely just to poison him in the end, it was better than the Winslows ever had. Sonnet sat at the small table and ate slowly, watching the castle's life dwindle by the night. By the end of the meal, he felt even more exhausted and in pain. He poured out a cap-full of the tonic before shooting it like whiskey. 

It tasted bitter in his mouth and he washed it down with a glass of water. With a full stomach and a tired mind, Sonnet blew out the candles in the room and crawled into bed. The mattress was softer than any cot he had been allowed to sleep on. Despite his history with insomnia, the soft blankets and the comfort of safety in sitting in his stomach lulled him down enough to actually fall into soundless sleep. 

[searenbound]

You know what I think is dangerous? Alphas+sex pollen. I'll elaborate later, expect it to be non-con/dub-con

[hurtthemgently]

Demon tail whump ideas-

Cold, always fun. Force their tail under freezing water, or hold ice cubes against it. See how long it takes for it to go numb.

Shock collar, but small, meant to go around the tail

Put heavy jewelry on their tail and make them hold it up. After a while the strain will be agony

Restraining them by something pierced through their tail, such as a knife or doornail. Or put a piercing through the fin and attach it to a chain.

Bite it. Bite their tail.

Tie a cute little bow next to the fin

Get a whip, cane, or riding crop and mark up their back and tail.

Have a bunch of sewing needles and don’t know where to put them? Your demons tail makes an excellent pincushion.

Holy water has plenty of fun possibilities

Grab their tail and tug sharply. Pull around them by it.

[minty-mumbles]

Febuwhump Day 13: Forced to Harm a Loved One

Read the full collection of my febuwhump ficlets on AO3

~~~

“N-no, no!” 

Warriors cringed internally as he heard Wild’s cries. It was terrible having to listen to the sound of his pleading and know that it was he who was causing Wild so much pain. He was the one responsible for this, he was the one choosing to do this to Wild. He was-

Warriors did his best to shake off those thoughts. It wouldn’t help anyone if he fell into a downward spiral of horrible thoughts. Wild needed him to be present and aware. And really, Warriors wasn’t the one who was hurting him. Not that he would ever say it- and certainly not now- but it was Four who was the one causing Wild’s pain. 

Warriors was just the one holding him down, not letting him get away or buck Four off of him where the smithy was straddling Wild’s weakly kicking legs. 

Warriors was just the one holding him down, and that was almost worse. 

Wild was a free spirit. Warriors had known from the day he’d met the champion that he was a hard one to pin down, figuratively and literally. He was always moving and didn’t like being told to stay still. (One time Legend had snapped irritably at Wild about his habit of rocking back and forth on his feet, and the look WIld had shot the veteran had been absolutely scathing. No one ever mentioned that particular habit of his again.)

Being told not to wander off was also irritating to the champion, but at least he’d finally gotten in the habit of letting them know when he was planning on disappearing. Warriors thanked the stars for that, as it had saved them more than one headache in the past few months.

All of this put together signaled a very free-spirited hero.

Warriors had always suspected that Wild had some sort of issue with being restrained or confined. For a split second of selfishness, Warriors wishes he was not having that suspicion confirmed.

But the life of a hero wasn’t easy. The battlefield was a dangerous place, and even if a delirious hero pleaded and begged, his blood-soaked bandages needed to be changed. Warriors wished that they hadn’t let Wild put his tunics back on after dressing his wound in the first place. But they couldn’t’ve known that the wound would end up becoming infected.

Warriors looked up to check the process, trying to gauge how much longer this was going to go on and how much longer he would need to listen to his brother cry. The smithy’s eyes were frantically cycling through nearly all the colors of the rainbow, but he kept as steady a hand as possible in this scenario. 

It took a great deal of careful maneuvering to get Wild out of his Champions’ tunic. They persisted though, even as Wild cried out in pain and panic. 

If it had been anyone else, they would have simply cut the tunic off and spared themself the trouble. But they both knew that Wild would kill them later if they destroyed the tunic his Zelda had made for him. They didn’t bother to be so careful with his undertunic, simply using Warriors knife to cut it off of Wild. He would be able to borrow one of the others' spare tunics until the group reached the next town. 

The entire process of removing his clothes so they could get at his bandages seemed to be agony for Wild. Warriors knew from experience that lifting your arms when you had an injury on your side hurt. But it wasn’t only that. 

“No, stop, I don’ wan- I don’ wanna take m’ clothes off. Sto’ it- Four, stop.” 

Wild’s words were slurred but still understandable. Warriors risked a glance up at Four, and found that the smithy looked like he wanted to cry to. He visibly steeled himself, took a deep breath, and continued. His eyes had settled on purple and green, the blue and red retreating from his gaze. 

Warriors tried to follow his example, taking a steadying breath and trying to ignore Wild’s wails.

Wild may be confused and combative- as evidenced by the bruise forming on Four’s cheek- and more than a little out of touch with the situation, but he was obviously still present enough to recognize the two of them. It only made the situation worse, that Wild was able to call out their names when he begged for them to stop. 

Wild had taken his shirt off in front of the rest of the group plenty of times, not to mention the time he had shown them all his cars. But there was a difference between removing clothing consensually when you were lucid enough to understand what was happening, and having your clothing removed and cut off when you were only partially present in your own mind. 

Warriors felt sick.

Maybe Wild had no reason to be this defensive. Maybe he was just delirious and confused. That still wouldn’t make it okay, but it would make the whole situation easier to smooth over when Wild comes back to himself. But Warriors had a sinking suspicion that the issue ran deeper than that.

Maybe, Warriors hoped, Wild simply didn’t want to show off his scars. The champion acted rather nonchalant about them, but that didn’t mean he was obligated to show them off. 

But maybe, Warriors shuddered, maybe Wild was afraid of something, something that Warriors himself had been through and would never wish on anyone. There were very few reasons someone would try to forcibly remove someone else’s clothes, and none of them were good. 

To Wild’s hazy mind, which obviously didn‘t recognize that he needed to change his bandages, there would be only one option left. Being held down and stipped out of his tunic… 

Warriors’ next breath came out as a shuddering gust of air, and he had to resist the urge to gag.

The cries of their names made it obvious that Wild knew who was trying to get his clothes off. Warriors and Four were only trying to help, but from Wild’s point of view? 

Warriors wished the other heroes were here. Twilight, at least, would be able to help soothe the panicked champion. The ranch hand had a way with the wild hero, and always managed to calm him. Maybe restraining Wild wouldn’t’ve even been necessary in the first place.

Anyone else would have been a help too. Just having someone there to reassure Wild who was actively trying to disrobe him or holding him down would have made their task easier.

But there was no one else here. It was only Four, Warriors, and Wild, alone in a strange era. The other heroes were Hylia-knows-where, separated from the three of them by the very fight that had injured the champion. 

Leadership now fell to Warriors. He was the oldest, and the highest up in the pecking order the heroes had seemed to naturally fall into, back when they had first met. He was the one in charge.

Normally, Warriors would not flinch at this. He was one of the finest captains in the Hyrulean military. He was more than used to leading, even if he had to make a hard decision that might hurt some of the people under his commands. 

But selfishly, Warriors wished that just this once, the burden of making hard decisions did not rest on his shoulders.

[yourgaydads]

wrote a miserable orpheus/corinthian non-con fic for the new year!

[burningkingpeach]

Reminder that it's perfectly okay to have kinks, wants, and thoughts. It's okay to like something or think about doing something that might not be considered morally acceptable by the majority of people.

Wanting ≠ Doing

Thinking ≠ Doing

You could think "I want to kill somebody", but you know for a fact you're not GOING to. You could think "God I really want to kill myself" but you know for a fact you're not GOING to. You could think "I want to hurt myself and/or hurt others" but you know for a fact you're not GOING to.

Don't feel ashamed about your kinks or thoughts or anything. You're not going to hurt somebody by just thinking or fantasising, and you shouldn't be hated for it either.

This also goes for roleplaying in bed, roleplaying the topic online, consuming media that contains fictional representation of the topics, or imagining it while you're doing something. If your kink is something illegal (the popular kinks are) or something that people would shun you for, then doing any of the above is fine since you're not encouraging it in real life, and you're not DOING it.

[xluminaheart]

When he looked at her face, all he could see was shining silver scales.

“I can’t believe you’re mine.” A low murmur. “I can’t believe I’m going to have you all to myself.”

And then a hand touched his neck in a caress, and Nezha felt his vision go black.

Rin's possessiveness during sex reminds Nezha of something he would rather forget.

(one-shot, 1.3k words)

Please heed the content warnings for this one as it’s quite intense

[hairscare]

eh, what do you expect from a lady who has an entire playlist dedicated to non-con scenes in movies on her old channel

WHAT.

[big-daddy-moth-archive]

Hey Valentino, what’s the deal with you and Arackniss? Didn’t you two bang each other? What’s the big deal if he dates your daughter? Isn’t he a gentleman? She seems happy with him shouldn’t that be all that matters?

"Exactly~ we banged each other--

Some consentual, some not--

(and don't just look at me on that side because he did it too!)

That's precisely why I know better!"

"Besides would you want a man sticking his dick in you know he also stuck it in your father too~?

Who want to fuck the same person who fucked your parents before you?"

[skadream]

sorting thru old books in the upstairs hallway shelf with my older sister

her: have you read ____? me: no, what is that? her: it's a harry potter fanfiction me: ????????? her: *sends me link* me: *clicks link*

?!?!?!?!????