#cw dead dove
Note
Howdy, going through a phase with COD men (König my 6'10 BBG) and they would make such good Yandere husbands, would it be okay to request a Yandere military man who's completely delusional about a hostage he rescued? knife play and being stepped on with a tactical boot would be a bonus <3
btw the way you write dark content scratches such a specific itch and makes me want to wail, the yandere pirate story was *chef Kissssssss*
Honestly, the only thing I know about COD is that I kick ass at zombies lol so this is definitely just an oc
Yandere!Military Man x Hostage!Reader
CW: non-con, mention of death, assault, delusional ideation, dehumanizing language, dead dove
"Esteemed journalist (Reader L/N) has gone missing while covering the.."
The radio was drowned out by the vehicle hitting a rock, earning an aggravated groan from one of the men. Angrily, he slammed his fist on the dash board, as though he could intimidate the radio into working better. A couple of his brothers chuckled while the rookie squirmed nervously in his seat.
"Fucking, shit ass-" Adrian "Clank" Muigg muttered, quietly releasing a stream of curses in a very thick accent towards the machine.
(Most nicknames in the military were neither cool, nor had a badass backstory, most had fairly humorous or demeaning origins; Muigg, fresh out of boot camp, murdered an innocent television set in an attempt to fix it, which changed his name from "Big Bastard" to "Clank".)
The youngest man there prayed he wasn't visibly sweating. "Is everything alright, sir?"
Boston, the bushy browed man at the wheel, laughed with his entire chest. "That radio lady's talking 'bout the love of Clank's life!"
Clank felt the back of his neck heat up, and had to redirect his anger into tapping his foot to prevent himself from whacking Boston.
"I didn't know you had a partner?"
"He don't! HA! It's a one-sided, puppy love!" Boston joyfully mocked his best mate. "He's got that reporter-person's picture 'bove his bed, and has every article they've ever written. It's very sweet!"
Bright blue eyes warned Boston of the danger he was playing with, but Boston payed him no mind, causing more anxiety in the new recruit.
It was true, however, that Clank had a star struck crush on the journalist. They were brave in a way Clank hadn't seen before, the kind of bravery that made an unarmed civilian put their life in danger to expose the world to the horrors of war. This wasn't the first warzone (Reader) had willingly gone into, but it was the first time their mission overlapped with Clank's.
They were covering the battle Clank was involved in.
And it enraged him.
While their bravery is what initially drew him to them and their work, the longer he followed (Reader) the harder it got for him to read about the danger they got into. Weren't they fearful for their own life?? Why didn't they care for themselves as much as he cared for them??
The nearly six foot eight man had fantasized many times about what he would say and do if he got the opportunity to meet (Reader). He had an entire monologue prepared that exemplified his adoration for their work without ousting himself as a borderline obsessive fanboy.
However, that entire speech was forgotten when Clank burst into the room three hostages were being held in after killing the hostiles within the building, and found himself face to face with (Reader) in the flesh.
They stood defiantly, arms outstretched to protect the two other reporters behind them, not even wearing a bullet proof vest, ready to sacrifice themselves to save their coworkers.
Clank lowered his weapon, numbed by the sudden influx of confusing, and conflicting, emotions.
He was hurt, because he finally got to meet (Reader), and they were prepared for him to kill them.
He was enamored, because even with dirt clogging their pores, hair matted with sweat and drying blood, skin bruising and swollen, they were still the single most radiant being he had ever laid eyes upon.
And he was angry. Why wasn't (Reader) cowering like a good little civilian? Didn't they know that they could die? Why didn't they care about their life?
"I'm here to rescue you." Clank's voice was robotic, and unattached. It didn't feel like he was the one saying it, as the three frightened adults relaxed, scrambling over to his side. "Follow me."
He watched his object of affection as they obliviously helped lead the other two hostages down the stairs to the military vehicle. Their right eye was nearly swollen shut, but they were supporting a grown ass man with a slight limp. Clank imagined blowing the man's brains out.
As they made it down to where the group could see Clank's team, (Reader) released their friend and attempted to go back up the stairs. Still experiencing his out of body conundrum, Clank grabbed their arm forcefully, hard enough to earn a yelp from his favorite celebrity.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" He seethed, hissing the question between his clenched teeth to prevent himself from screaming it. The other two greedily ran outside to Boston's embrace, leaving them alone in the building.
"My footage, they kept it upstairs." Professional as always, the diligent champion of justice kept calm despite the feeling as though their arm would snap in Clank's fist.
"That is not important!"
"You don't know what I saw! It is, and I need the evidence, the proof, of what I saw!"
"Clank, where are you?" Boston's voice on Clank's radio distracted him enough for (Reader) to snake out of his grasp, bolting back up into the building.
"Shit-!" He pulled out his walkie as he ran up behind the surprisingly quick journalist. "Everything's good, I'll be down in a few minutes, start taking the others back."
"Uh, no? Excuse me-"
"That's an order."
"Clank-"
"I said; that's an order."
The violently pissed off man holstered his radio as he charged up the stairs three steps at a time.
His precious (Reader) had taken it too far this time.
Even if they didn't care about their own life, he cared. He loved them, adored them, worshipped them, so how fucking dare they continuously put their life in danger like this?
If they were to be wed one day, their life would be his. And that was downright disrespectful.
(Reader) could be heard rifling through cabinets and cupboards through the door of the first room on the floor above the one they were held prisoner on. Clank attempted to cool his rage before entering, wishing to not scare his future spouse again.
Glancing up only briefly, the adult of smaller stature offered a meak smile before going back to searching. "I'm sorry for that.. I don't mean to make your job difficult, but this is really important. We almost died for this footage; hell, LeDoux had his knee cracked open by one of those- his knee must be killing him."
-almost died-
-almost died-
Their words repeating in Clank's eardrums played over the exclamation of (Reader) finding their equipment. (Reader) almost died, for what? Nothing was more important than their life.
"I'm sorry?" Bloodshot eyes stared wide with confusion from under pursed eyebrows.
Without realizing it, Clank had spoken his thoughts out loud. But, perhaps this was for the best. They would have to learn the truth sooner or later. "Nothing is worth your life." He doubled down as he slowly approached (Reader).
It took a lot more energy forcing himself to smile than he wanted. Clank had never been so stressed or angry or conflicted in his entire life.
"That isn't for you to say." Sharp words responded with a huff, thrusting the camera into a duffel bag.
Clank released a humorless laugh. "You are like a small dog, aren't you, my dear?" His muscles were tensing under his uniform, and although (Reader) couldn't see it, they could feel the dangerous shift in his mannerisms. "You do not know of the danger you are in, so you bark loudly."
Although a pit of fear weighed down their stomach, the much weaker of the two hid it well, scoffing, and moving to stroll past Clank, praying that he was bluffing.
A harsh slap to their cheek confirmed that he was being serious, sending the already injured (Reader) to the floor.
Before they could scramble to their feet, a heavy, steel toed boot was placed firmly on their chest, pressing the air out of their lungs.
(Reader) could feel the blood rush to their head as they struggled to breath.
Clawing at Clank's shin and calf didn't move him.
"It is not your fault, that you are such a little dog. But, like all little dogs, you must be trained. Yes?"
Not a single word could be uttered. Black spots bounced around (Reader's) vision.
Clank eased up on the pressure just enough for oxygen to fill his love's deprived lungs. Between coughs and sputters, (Reader) only got out "Stop-" before his heel was digging into their sternum again.
"Tsk tsk tsk.. Now, I don't want to do this, but I have to. For us. So you must obey me, little puppy. Now, what do dogs say?"
(Reader) glared up at him in pain and hatred, sneering as angry tears welled up in their puffy eyes.
"Woof.." The pitiful bark was spat out.
"Ah ah ah." He wagged a finger at them in a chastising fashion. "Be nice, little puppy." His weight increased warningly, squeezing out a pained cry.
".. Woof."
Seeing the person Clank had loved for the past four years under his boot, writhing, flushed in the face, glistening eyes staring up at him and only him.. Clank could feel himself stiffening, and it disturbed him. Why did seeing his beloved cry in pain give him a hard on?
No, it is not because they are crying in pain.
Clank smiled, warping the situation to rationalize his hard cock pressing against his zipper. It was that they were being obedient for him.
Another cry rang out, louder this time, as Clank accidentally put too much weight on (Reader's) ribcage, lost in thought while admiring their pathetic face.
He got off, kneeling down so (Reader) wouldn't think about trying to get up. They got the message, and continued lying, grasping their chest and breathing raggedly.
"Good dog." Clank ran a hand through their hair. "You will listen to what I say, won't you?"
"Ye- ...woof." Their words quivered in shame.
"Good. Now, get on your knees."
(Reader) bit their tongue with how quickly their mouth clamped shut. It was humiliating, but their chest hurt so badly.. They rolled over, propping themselves up onto their hands and knees.
Their resolve to do as Clank said to avoid more pain was immediately forgotten when they felt his large hands tug at their pants.
"What are you doing?" They yelled in fright, whipping their head back to look at him before having their skull smashed into the floor, holding them down.
"Training, remember? For someone known for their intelligence, you sure are a moron. Bark, bitch."
Tears mixed in with snot, as (Reader) snarled "Fuck you!"
Clank removed his hand from their soft hair to firmly grasp their hips with both of his hands, pulling (Reader) onto his dick. "Incorrect."
"No!" (Reader) screamed, feeling Clank's bare member as it entered them painfully all in one thrust without lubrication. As they cried out, a slap to their ass rang out through the nearly empty room.
"What do dogs say?"
"Fuck you!" Another painful slap left a welt that would certainly bruise.
"You want to act like a bitch, putting your life in danger as though it doesn't matter, you're going to be treated like a bitch!" Clank raised his voice, terrifying his victim. "Now, what do dogs say?"
Slap!
"Woof.."
Slap!
"Woof! Woof! Bark!" They barked between viciously sobbing, heaving as he ravaged them from behind, fucking them so hard that their entire body rocked forward dangerously. The only reason why they hadn't fallen face first into the cement flooring was Clank's right hand digging painfully into their pelvis.
Whereas for (Reader) this was a nightmare, joy was already melting away Clank's anger.
"See, this will be better, for both of us. When we get back, you'll quit your job, and I can finally take care of you."
His thrusting became more passionate, and (Reader) could feel his precum as he began to slide in and out more easily. "I've dreamt of this for so long, and now I will finally be yours: whether as your husband or as your owner."
That triggered (Reader's) fight or fight response, realizing what Clank was implying. They attempted to throw themselves forward, to scramble away while he was still inside of them.
A strong arm caught (Reader) easily. Their spine was bent backwards, holding the attempted escapee in a head lock with a knife pressed to their throat as Clank continued stretching out their hole.
Despite their desperate pleas, their new fiance held (Reader) still on his cock as he released inside of them, going drunk on the way their walls felt clenching him as they milked him dry.
Eyes hazy with lust, he kissed their jaw, still keeping the knife held firmly against their neck just in case.
"Good dog."
A/N: I'm sorry it took so long! Thank you so much for your patience, I hope you like it ❤️
#sorry it took so long#thank you for your patience#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere oc#cw dead dove#dead dove do not eat#gn reader#cw noncon#cw assault#not proofread
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teacher’s pet jikook au 🔞
cw teacher/student rs, dark/dead dove elements, boypussy, implied murder, dubcon/noncon, reverse cuckolding?
if i pass this quiz will you give me your babies? / don’t call me crazy / you love me but you won’t come save me / you got a wife and kids, you see them daily
i know i’m young, but my mind is well beyond my years / i knew this wouldn’t last but fuck you, don’t you leave me here / teacher’s pet / if i’m so special, why am i secret?
jungkook’s happily married with one kid, jimin’s his star student who maybe (definitely) has some issues at home and throws himself into school
the high he gets from topping every class dulls eventually. he feels emptier than before, but lucky for him, jeon seonsaengnim has always been attentive and caring. the best teacher he has, by far.
jimin latches onto him after jungkook catches him crying in the classroom after school. his focus pivots from scoring the highest to scoring his teacher.
jimin essentially guilts him/emotionally manipulates him into a kiss, which blossoms into something more
jungkook is fully aware what jimin is trying to do, but fuck. he’s always been a sucker for thick lips and fat asses.
how can he say no when jimin is staring up at him, puppy eyes shining and toned body pressed up against him as he croons, “ssaem…please?”
how can he say no to tight teenage pussy?
they start a sexual relationship but jimin gets way too deep into it — gets possessive and oversteps his boundaries, generally acts crazy and obsessed and like he thinks they’re in an actual relationship
jungkook eventually breaks it off for fear that jimin’s developing feelings (he already has, it’s too late)
jimin takes it much better than he’d expected — nods, sheds a tear or two, asks for a final hug before leaving — and jungkook eventually chooses to believe that they’re fine. everything’s fine. jimin acts normal in school and everything is back how it should be.
jungkook comes home one night to find his wife tied up to a chair in their bedroom, gagged and screaming
the door slams shut behind him.
he turns to see jimin, wearing a set of his wife’s lingerie, holding a knife, and grinning wider than he’s ever seen him. there’s a manic light in his eyes that jungkook’s only ever seen in fleeting glimpses.
“i know you said we were over,” he says, pouting. he’s gripping the knife so hard his knuckles are white. “but you know i fuck better than that old, loose bitch there.”
jimin ties jungkook up too and rides him, right in front of his crying wife, and milks him completely dry — forces him to forgo a condom for the first time, so mrs jeon can watch as her husband’s cum drips out of jimin’s swollen eighteen y/o cunt
(jimin realises later on that the only thing preventing him and jungkook from being together is his wife, and decides to get rid of her accordingly. jungkook won’t have use for her anyway.)
#i wrote jimin being the insane one but honestly either works#what can i say i love psycho jimin as much as psycho jungkook#i just feel like i need to write more yandere!jimin#thinking about jimin giving toga from bnha vibes#jikook#jikook fanfic#dead dove#jimin x jungkook#my writing#fic#jikook au#cw dead dove#cw dubcon#cw noncon
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@ahsoka-ina-hood replied to their post: "So what is your number 1 draw to watching the Ahsoka show?"
@kenobster I am asking I yearn to know
Oh god lmao. Okay.
First of all, I would like you to know that I answered an anon's ask for the sake of describing the Vader Mpreg AU just for you lmao (and anon, ofc). Otherwise, this post would've been WAY too long.
Second of all, part of what I liked about The Rise of Skywalker is that Palpatine only ever thinks of himself. His creation of Snoke and the other strands is very ego-driven and selfish — to his own detriment. Palpatine's strands are always derivative and flawed from their original template. In other words, the only successful strand (aka Rey) occurred when someone else's DNA mistakenly got involved. I found that very in-character for Palpatine, very fascinating, and... well, suffice to say... unsurprisingly important for later. :)
In the Vader Mpreg AU, lizard brain has regrettably tasked me with coming up with a justification for one of Palpatine's unique modifications to Vader's body. Maybe Vader starts miscarriaging (he is going through an awful lot). Or maybe Palpatine is testing some new method of strand creation. Whatever the case, lizard brain would like it if Palpatine found it annoying to have to insert the uterus via surgery every time. Since Vader's already pooping out of a bag, Palpatine finds it Convenient™ to detach Vader's bowels from his asshole entirely. That way, the butt canal can instead be hooked up to the uterus with a synthetic cervix.
Is the butt canal stretchy enough to poop out a baby? No.
However, Palpatine can create some pre-fertilized clone-baby eggs and slingshot 'em up Vader's butt canal like merch from a t-shirt canon. :)
Maybe one day, Palpatine decides that preparing fertilized eggs in a laboratory is not perverse enough. Maybe he decides that it'd be fun to implant a synthetic ovary next to Vader's uterus that is genetically engineered to produce unfertilized eggs with Palpatine's DNA. Once complete, Palpatine can then fuck Vader's butt and make his clone babies the good ol' fashioned way.
With a touch of Jurassic Park Science, maybe Vader's DNA can accidentally get involved. And, just like what happened with Rey, maybe Vader's DNA could potentially lead to an non-uggo, totally normal-looking baby. And maybe.... just maybe.... this happens to be the exact same pregnancy Vader is enduring when he flees to Obi-Wan and pleads for sanctuary.
Maybe, lizard brain proposes, this baby can even be a specific Star Wars character. A character of unknown origins who is extremely hot and full of Anakin-esque qualities. A character who first appeared in a trailer for the Ahsoka series....
Do you hate this idea? Don't worry. I do, too.
#answer#ahsoka ina hood#vaders uterus#vader mpreg au#cw dead dove#cw noncon#i refuse to tag this further lmao
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I don't know what made me think of it, but I'd love to either draw or commission some art of Wy from Hetalia facesitting Billy Hargrove right now or in the future. /srs
Antis dni, this post is not for you
#🥀🕊Making holy smoke🕊🥀#⚰️🧟♂️Der kommissar's in town🧟♂️⚰️#tw age gap#cw age gap#tw dead dove#cw dead dove#dead dove do not eat#minors dni#tw lolicon#cw lolicon#antis go away#antis fuck off#antishitters dni#antis dni#anti anti#proship#proship safe#proship please interact#comship#crossover#hetalia#stranger things#aph wy#billy hargrove
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my year in fic - 2022
Thanks for the tag @broomsticks! I've got a compilation list coming out on 12/31 that will feature all of my 2022 accomplishments, but I hope no one minds if I do another fic spotlight for this year! It's always fun to look back at what I managed in a year!
Tagging: @liladiurne, @writcraft, @perverse-idyll, @necromanticnoir, @ripeteeth, @lizzy0305, @likelightinglass, @givereadersahug, @inarticulateimbecile, @fleetingdesires, @bluesundaycake, @cindle-writes, @onbeinganangel, and uhhhh...anyone who wants to! And no pressure to those I've tagged! Just an invitation to join the funsies, if you like! 💖💛
❄️ January
Partygoers - (Snarry, E, 100.) New Years drabble. Harry wants a kiss.
Partygoers laugh and cheer within the manor, sound muffled by the doors. Harry presses Severus against the balcony railing. Leans in. Severus turns his face away. Harry mouths at his neck instead.
Welcome to the Family - (Lucius/Ron, Hermione/Narcissa, Draco/Sirius, Harry/Snape, M, 4k.) Written for Rare Pair Fest 21/22. Valentine’s Day goes from bad to worse when Draco discovers his parents’ secret relationships.
“Calm down, darling,” Narcissa says. “Listen, my love, listen.” Draco would like to tell her he doesn’t need this sort of coddling, except that he does. “Sometimes, when a man and a woman respect each other very much and are in need of an heir, they marry and perform the…necessary physical requirements to produce a pregnancy.”
“Isn’t this supposed to go ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’?” Draco asks.
Narcissa and Lucius share a look.
A Matter of Time - (Snarry, E, 3k.) Written for Snarry Adopt-a-Prompt. Severus is outed as a spy and grievously injured. Harry doesn’t react well, leading those closest to him to wonder: Just why is Harry so devastated about Severus’ condition?
Now that Harry has witnessed Severus’ vulnerability, he is content to be manhandled into Severus’ arms. Harry winds arms and legs — skinny, but strong — around Severus, and tucks his head into Severus’ neck. And as Severus squeezes him in close, Harry wiggles in even closer. Until Severus is unsure where one ends and the other begins. Until he cannot tell his own heartbeat from Harry’s, his own breath.
Harry mumbles three words into Severus neck, that Severus pretends not to hear. Instead he presses his mouth to Harry’s head to stifle untamed sentiment.
9 January 2022 - (Snarry, T, 1k.) Severus turns 62.
Shiny black wrapping paper sits neatly folded on the table. Gold and silver balloons bob over Severus’ head. A stack of sparkly pink candles. Warm, moist spice cake. A cold, snowy day. Silliness and tradition.
And love, a warm glow in Severus’ dark eyes, even as Severus mocks the cake and the mittens and the childish decorations. Harry listens to his eyes, not his words, and he smiles.
smile with sweet surprise - (Snarry, E, WIP.) Updated with chapter 2. Harry is barely sixteen. Had barely blown out his candle when Severus kissed him.
Severus ducks his head and looks down at his boots. Black boots that trampled over the rainbow path. A bit of purple ribbon curls out from beneath his foot. Severus grinds his boot down into it, then kicks it away.
Never again. He’ll never touch Harry again.
Severus steps back and draws his wand to clean the mess they made.
🌹 February
The Alchymist II - (Snarry, Kingco, Snarry/Kingco, E, 4k.) Written for Kinkuary. Sequel to The Alchymist. 2 married couples, 1 hotel room = a lot of fun and a lot of trouble.
Severus is not alone in his jealous nature, but it is his jealousy that has been tested the most. Since their night with Draco, Harry has not strayed beyond casual touches and mild flirtation. Still, it is enough to send Severus up the wall. Every violent, hateful desire in Severus’ soul rises to the surface each time. Wars with his desire, and the pleasure of beauty. And this — Harry touching not one, but two others, is more loathing and arousal than he can stand.
But Severus has been tested time and again. And he accepted long ago the depths of his own madness where Harry Potter is concerned.
Obscene - (Snarry, E, 1k.) Written for Kinkuary. Never has Severus been so wet outside of heat. It’s humiliating; obscene.
Severus didn’t dare look him in the eye, that first night, but he glares into them now. He’d rather be bent over the desk. Would rather not see or be seen, but his pride damns him.
Now he’s cursed by the sight of Potter’s mussed hair and his flushed cheeks. Green eyes darkened by desire. The glint of slick caught in his beard. Mouth reddened and plump.
He dares not blink. Dares not make a sound. Dares not melt into Potter’s touch the way he so longs to. Severus, too, is controlled.
🍀 March
Caged - (Snarry, T, 100.) His arms are a cage.
Snape is unforgiving, even in love. His arms are a cage; the only real home Harry has known.
🐣 April
Fool - (Snarry, G, 100.) Tumblr prompt. Prompt: Snarry + "things you said when you thought i was asleep"
"You're a fool," Severus says. The tone is not so harsh or mocking as it might be by day. It is tender, and sad. Another I love you, unspoken.
Yes - (Snarry, T, 100.) Tumblr prompt. Prompt: things you said when we were the happiest we ever were + snarry
"I want that," Harry continues. "I want to be yours." He steps nearer. Severus' heart leaps. "And I want you to be mine."
Black Skies - (Regulus/Severus, Regulus/Sirius, E, 7k.) Written for Blackcest Fest. Sirius won't give Regulus the love he needs, so he seeks it from Severus instead.
Madness runs in the family, it is said. It has always been in Sirius. Flickers of it in his endless enthusiasm. Sparks of it in his eyes, however easy and cool his smile. The edge of madness in his casual cruelty.
All of his Gryffindor brashness…it is the Black madness at its most evident. The most colorful, wild side to their innate offness.
Sirius is one of them, however well he hides it, and Regulus cannot help but laugh, though he doesn’t think it very funny. Not funny, but thrilling.
While Severus’ passion awakened Regulus, Sirius’ madness calls to him, deep and primal. It’s not a good feeling, really, but a familiar one, and Regulus cannot help but reach out for more.
🌼 May
Orange Blossoms - (Snarry, T, 3k.) Written HP Flowers - Spring Round. Also my gift to myself for my birthday. These are foolish times to have hope, and more foolish still to be in love.
The boy left with less fuss than Severus expected, only to make his move once the sun's disapproving eye set. It is by the moon's mercy Harry leaves love letters in secret languages. Apple blossom and pansy. Fern and foxglove. Myrtle and dahlia.
Severus brews potions in the evenings, nutritional blends to sustain the flowers that now overrun every available surface of his quarters.
Harry never need know the mark he’s made, the beauty and vibrancy with which he’s colored Severus’ life. He’ll never be allowed one foot inside of Severus’ quarters, and Severus will never reveal his heart.
Contempt - (Snarry, E, 20k.) Written for Snarry-a-Thon. Also the best thing I've ever written ever. Harry hates Snape, and he always will. (He will, won’t he?)
Harry doesn't remember much from Defense. Not history or theory or even incantations. Instead he remembers the sweep of Snape's robes and the click of his boots. He remembers the position of Snape's fingers around his wand. The precise motion of his wrist. The shape of his lips around every spell.
He remembers and he hates.
(And wants and hates and wants and hates and wants.)
🥀 September
In My Veins (In My Blood) - (Snarry, Harry/Death Eaters, E, 7k.) Originally meant to be for a fest. Ended up posting on my own when I realized the story I needed to tell wouldn't fit the fest requirements. DEAD DOVE. Voldemort wins the war and rewards the Death Eaters with a prize: Harry Potter. What he doesn't know is that Harry already belongs to one of them.
Fierce green eyes meet gleaming red. Severus dares not breathe. The Dark Lord might do anything; might slip inside his mind and dig up every last secret. He might rip Harry’s mind apart. He’ll turn his wand on Severus then. The light will hardly have gone out of Harry’s eyes by the time Severus joins him in death.
That would be a mercy, really; a blessing.
Instead, Harry and the Dark Lord grin at one another, equally unamused.
Safe - (Snarry, E, 6k.) Updated with chapter 2/final chapter. Dead dove. Harry is sure of a lot of things, until he isn't.
“I’m fine,” Harry says yet again, but he smiles all the same. Turns his head for a kiss that Severus instantly grants. Soft. Tender. Loving. Harry feels like he should be annoyed, but isn’t.
Maybe he does need soft sometimes. And maybe it’s okay to let Severus take care of him. Maybe it’s okay to not be okay. To need this. Severus is happy enough to provide it. And Harry loves his care as much as he loves his cruelty.
Free Falling - (Ginmione, T, 200.) Tumblr prompt. Hermione faces her fear of flying to spend time with Ginny.
They’re falling, falling – she’s falling –
Ginny catches them, pulling out of the dive before they crash into the earth. Hermione burrows her face into Ginny’s neck and huffs out a hysterical giggle.
🕸️ October
Red All Over - (Gwenevera, E, 1k.) Written for Kinktober. It’s that time of the month. You know. The time for sex. OR: Gwenog & Ginny celebrate the Harpies' latest win the best way they know how.
She is flayed open. Freer than she’s ever been. The world is sharp and bright. All of the secrets of her soul exposed, cradled safely between their bodies.
Eventually, Gwen suggests a shower, and Ginny huddles closer in response. She isn’t ready to face reality just yet. Isn’t ready to break this fragile perfection. It takes quiet praise and playful teasing to coax her down to earth. But it is Gwen’s deft fingers dancing down her ribs that finishes the job. Ginny yelps and jerks up to slap Gwen’s arm. Gwen only laughs and tugs Ginny back down.
Blue Velvet - (Snarry, Snarryus, 3k.) Written for Kinktober. Snarryus is Harry/Scorpius/Severus btw. Please forgive my undying love for portmanteaus. Scorpius wants Harry. Harry wants Scorpius. All Severus wants is for Harry to be happy (damn him.)
They are priceless luxury. Their radiance calls to Severus’ greed. The heat of his arousal does not touch the cold within. Severus touches himself, and hates himself.
Stop. Don’t. He should have put an end to this farce before it began. Harry is his, body and soul; it matters not how lovely and lovable his toy is.
Of course Harry wants him. Look at him. One taste will not be enough. But this is as much punishment as gift. Let Harry have his desires, and ruin all they’ve built. Let the blond slut wreck their lives. This is the price of Harry’s covetousness; the price of Severus’ possession.
Chain Reaction of Countermoves - (Snarry, E, 2k.) Written for Kinktober. Sequel to last year's Kinktober fic Clandestine Meetings & Stolen Stares. Harry’s had enough detentions with Headmaster Snape, hasn’t he? Now he has to meet him after graduation, too? Or: Graduation doesn’t come soon enough, but come it does.
“You didn’t bring me here for a drink,” Harry tells him, and snatches the bottle as Severus reaches for it.
“I didn’t bring you here at all,” Severus mutters darkly.
Harry snorts. A case of semantics won’t distract Harry, not now. Too far he’s come, too long he’s waited. The words that have clogged his throat all year burst forth — for a moment his mouth is overfull, and clumsy, so accustomed to holding back, and so afraid to confess — but the dam finally breaks, and he says, “You know I love you, don’t you?”
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M!OC x friend’s M!OC uwu
Warnings: DEAD DOVE; noncon; eye trauma; bodily harm; violence; hurt with comfort
Aksel and Joaquim belong to 💜@inkyquince💜
Words: ~2.1
“Fuck you.” It’s the first words Danny has spoken in…he doesn’t know how long. Hours, at least. It must have been hours since Aksel dragged him out of that basement cell, intent on breaking him down enough for the entity to slip into control. And now…here he was, breathing heavily, body aching and bloody, but still in control.
Aksel sighs, almost sounding like a disappointed parent more than the fucked up cultist Danny knew him to be. “It would be so much better for you if you just gave in, you know.”
Danny doesn’t answer, letting blood pool in his mouth before spitting it at Aksel’s already crimson-stained boots.
That was the wrong move.
Danny knows it, the moment Aksel’s eyes flick to his, the red of his iris almost completely eclipsed by his pupil dilating. Danny tries to scramble back as Aksel stalks forward, undoing his pants as he goes. Danny’s efforts are in vain, a cool wall pressing against his burning back and trapping him in place. Danny was used to being naked in front of Aksel, the fucker never allowing him or Joaquim even a scrap of clothing. But there was something in his eyes now as he cornered Danny that made him feel exposed, vulnerable.
It's a disgustingly familiar sight to Danny now, Aksel pulling his cock out. Still, it makes his stomach drop, every fiber of his being screaming for him to run. “Open wide, bitch,” Aksel murmurs, rubbing the tip of his dick against Danny's bloody lips. “Gonna fuck that pretty, bloody mouth of yours and remind you how to speak to your betters.”
Danny snarls, lips curling back to flash sharp teeth. “I’m going to fucking castrate you.”
Laughter fills the small, humid room, the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck prickling. Just as suddenly as it starts, Aksel’s laughter cuts off, a cool hand cupping Danny’s cheek, something hard and cold in the palm.
A screwdriver.
"And I’m going to blind you.” The tip of the screwdriver presses right under Danny’s eye, his body freezing over as the metal bites ever so slightly into the thin skin. “You and Joaquim will be like two little blind mice, bumping into each other."
Aksel’s dick presses against his lips again, blood smearing across the leaking tip. The screwdriver glints in the corner of Danny’s vision as he slowly opens his mouth, heart beat deafening in his ears as he lets Aksel’s cock slide past his lips and teeth.
“There we go,” Aksel says with another cruel laugh. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now be a good whore and suck.”
Danny hates him. Hate wasn’t enough of a word for what he felt, but it was the word bouncing around in his skull. Hate. Hated Aksel, his face, his voice. Hated Aksel’s fascination with entities, his undying determination to free the one trapped inside Danny. Hated his pretty red eyes, his cute freckles that dusted his cheeks and shoulders, things Danny had liked about the man once upon a time, back when Aksel was masquerading as another prisoner trapped in the cult’s basement only so he could watch Danny shatter when he learned the truth.
It’s what makes the entity bubble to life, now, simmering under Danny’s skin. His temples itch where the horns will sprout, spine aches as he keeps the tail repressed. He’s made it through worse, he wouldn’t break down now. Danny knows, though, that the longer this goes on, the harder it’ll be for him to keep control.
So, Danny does as Aksel commands.
It’s easy, if he forgets it’s Aksel. If he forgets the screwdriver leveled at his eye and the way his body lights up in a dull, residual pain with each beat of his heart. He lets his eyes close, swirling his tongue around the tip, letting his tongue stud drag along the sensitive underside. He presses forward, lips meeting Aksel’s base, nose buried in blond pubs streaked with black, before pulling back.
He blocks out everything. Blocks out Aksel calling him a fucktoy, just a hole to fuck. Blocks out the ache in his knees, in his jaw. Blocks out the fingers twisting cruelly through his blood and sweat-matted hair. He blocks it all and instead imagens someone else. Imagines soft murmured words, a hand carding through his hair and scared fingers stroking over the curve of his cheekbone. Instead of sucking off Aksel, it’s someone else. Someone whose face he wouldn’t be able to look away from, someone who smelled like raspberries and leather and caramel.
Joaquim. His stomach drops as Danny realizes he’s thinking of Joaquim. It’s not fair to the other man, casting him in this role so Danny can get through the ordeal just a smidge easier. But, he doesn’t stop. Even as his dick slowly hardens between his thighs, even as he becomes slightly more enthusiastic, humming as his head bobs, he doesn’t stop thinking about Joaquim. How he’d taste or the sounds he’d make or the way his dick stretched his throat out to a deliciously painful degree. Even as guilt pools in his stomach, he keeps Joaquim in his mind’s eye.
Maybe it would have been fine if Aksel hadn’t broken Danny’s trance.
It’s a soft slap to his cheek that does it, enough to pull Danny from his fantasies but not enough to shock him into biting down. “Eyes up here, whore,” Aksel says, a feral grin across his face even as he pants. “Wanna see what my baby brother never will.”
Danny doesn’t think, eyes flashing purple in an instant as he pulls on the entity’s power and bites.
Aksel acts just as fast, ripping back from Danny with a shout, the tip of his penis bloody as he fumbles for a bandage.
The entity surges to life inside Danny, trying to slip into control only to find its way blocked. Hatred and pain might weaken Danny’s control, but watching Aksel try to stop his dick from bleeding brings enough delirious euphoria that Danny, as fucked as he is, can keep it suppressed.
For the moment, at least.
With a wordless, rage-filled cry, Aksel grabs Danny by the jaw, squeezing until Danny feels like his bones might shatter. “An eye for an eye,” Aksel says, voice harsh and ragged as he plunges the screwdriver into Danny’s left eye.
His world stops, head exploding in agony, the marks on his side from the entity scorching as he sinks into himself. Nothing exists outside of him, the entity, and the fight for control. A fight that Danny’s losing, horns jutting from his head as his consciousness slips down, down, down.
“And one for good measure.”
Danny’s world explodes again as his right eye receives the same treatment, tail ripping from the base of his spine. Aksel laughs as he lets go of him, letting him crumple to the floor, curled around himself. Danny grits his teeth, willing himself back up, back in control. His shoulder blades itch and burn, skin rippling as the entity’s bid for control births the twin tentacles that would spell Danny’s complete loss. If he can fight them down, it won’t matter. He’ll have won. Even if he gave in to the temptation to use the entity’s strength to hurt Aksel, he still forced it down in the end.
And he’ll be sent back to the basement, to Joaquim. He’ll be back with Joaquim.
He pulls strength from the thought, the skin on his back settling. Slowly, Danny becomes aware of his surroundings, of Aksel’s ragged breathing as he stands over him, waiting, hoping, for the entity to come forth, to reward him. It never does. Instead, Aksel’s fury only grows as the tail at the base of Danny’s spine starts to wither away/
“Useless,” Aksel hisses, foot connecting with Danny’s side in a sharp kick. Danny clenches his jaw, keeping his mouth shut and exhaling sharply through his nose.
Aksel’s still talking, but Danny isn’t listening anymore. He lets his mind drift, drift to being back with Joaquim as his horns shrink. Drift to breaking out, to huddling together in a motel bed. Maybe…maybe even their own bed, one day. Free from fear of Aksel, able to build a life together. Make a home together.
Unfamiliar hands grip Danny’s shoulders, pulling him up and forcing him to stumble along. Back to the cell, then. Back to Joaquim.
It’s a blur, getting back to the cell. All Danny focuses on is keeping his mouth shut and breathing through his nose.
But, then he’s back. He’s back in the cell, Joaquim’s hands on his stomach, on his chest, searching to see what had happened this time.
“Danny,” Joaquim murmurs, hands traveling over his body. “Talk to me, Danny boy.”
Danny grabs one of Joaquim’s hands, tentatively bringing it to his mouth. Slowly, Danny lets his lips part, something spongy falling into Joaquim’s palm. It’s dead silent in the cell as Joaquim process what’s just happened, what Danny has just dropped into his hand, like a cat bringing home dead mice.
“Is…Is this the tip of Aksel’s dick?”
Danny lets out a wild little giggle, wincing as the act irritates some of his injuries. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Danny had…well, he’d expected a different reaction, honestly. He’d expected Joaquim to laugh, to say how Aksel deserved it. He didn’t expect strong hands to cup his face, Joaquim’s forehead pressing against his as the redhead spoke. “Why. What did- what the fuck did he do to you?!”
“What do-?”
“Why was Aksel’s bare cock anywhere near your mouth?!” Joaquim all but growls.
“He, h-he uh, well…” Danny trails off, unable to piece together a coherent thought. “He…does stuff…like that, sometimes.”
Joaquim goes still. If it wasn’t for his hands still holding Danny’s face, he wouldn’t be sure Joaquim was even still in front of him. The silence makes Danny uneasy, makes his skin itch. He can feel it, the fury building inside the shorter man. It’s the last thing Danny wants, to make Joaquim angry.
“I-I’m sorry,” Danny blurts out. “I shouldn’t have let him-”
“Shush,” Joaquim says, voice soft. “No, shush. Don’t…I’m not mad at you, sweetness.” He leans up, pressing a kiss to Danny’s forehead. “I’d never be mad at you over something like that.” Another kiss, this time to one of Danny’s temples. “I’m…mad at Aksel. And…and myself. That I couldn’t protect you.” A third kiss to the opposite temple. “Don’t apologize for something that fucker did.” Joaquim presses his forehead to Danny’s again. “Got it, love?”
“Got it,” Danny mumbles, smiling shakily.
“Good boy,” Joaquim says, patting his cheek playfully, only to frown. “That’s…a lot of blood,” he murmurs, fingers following a trail of dried blood up Danny’s face, to his eye. Joaquim inhales sharply as he realizes what’s happened. “Fuck him. Fuck him. Fucking monster.”
“Joaquim.” This time, it’s Danny’s turn to cup Joaquim’s face. “They’ll grow back. The one good thing from the entity, remember? It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. It’s bad enough that-”
Danny cuts him off, pressing his bloody mouth to Joaquim’s. He can feel the other man shaking, barely suppressed rage and fear and anguish. “It’s fine,” Danny says between kisses, “because I’m here with you.” As Danny kisses him, Joaquim starts to calm down, kissing back possessively. Soon, Danny’s on his back, arms draped over Joaquim’s shoulders. Joaquim’s kisses are hungry, greedy, leaving Danny breathless.
“I’m going to kill him,” Joaquim murmurs against Danny’s lips. Dimly, Danny is aware that a statement like that should worry him, maybe even scare him. It doesn’t. His heart swells in his chest, feeling as if it might burst from the statement. Not just the words themselves, but also the tone. The sureness in Joaquim’s tone, the finality of it. “And then we can leave this place. We can be free.”
“Together?” Danny asks. It’s a half-spoken question, really. But, Joaquim knew the real question, one that Danny had whispered late at night once, curled into Joaquim’s side. ‘Why?’ He’d asked. ‘Why stay together? Aksel won’t hunt you like he does me. You could be free.‘
“Together,” Joaquim repeats. “Always.”
Danny’s face splits into a wide grin, “Always,” he echos, pressing another kiss to Joaquim’s lips.
“Dankovskey,” Joaquim says, sighing against his lips. “You’re hard.”
Danny laughs, “Oh, wild surprise.”
“Do you want me to take care of you?”
Sighing, Danny stretches out under him, arching his back so his chest presses against Joaquim’s. “Dunno,” he mumbles. “Y’know that fucker has cameras down here. Sure he won’t be jerking it to us any time soon but, still.”
Joaquim chuckles, pressing a kiss to Danny’s collarbone. “Whatever you want, Danny boy, just say the word.”
“Just,” Danny pulls Joaquim down on top of him. “Just stay here. Like this. That okay, Kimi?”
“Using me as a heated weighted blanket again?”
Danny huffs a laugh, “Is that a no, then?”
“Absolutely not,” Joaquim says, arms tightening around Danny. “This is exactly where I want to be, after all.”
#aksel the corrupted#danny the possessed#joaquim the tongue#tw noncon#cw noncon#tw dead dove#cw dead dove#tw bodily harm#cw bodily harm#tw violence#cw violence#tw eye trauma#cw eye trauma#quiet ocs#others ocs
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Weird eremin
cw // corpse , dead dove (I guess?) , disturbing elements
#cw corpse#idk how to warn it’s just creepy#cw dead dove#for good measures#eremin#armin arlert#attack on titan#aot#snk#shingeki no kyoujin#shingeki no kyojin#eren yaeger#eren jaeger#eren yeager#eren very dead
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Remembering Is Half The Battle
❤️🩹 Part 1 of Raphael, Post Kraang ❤️🩹
Dead Dove Warning, Read All Tags!
Summary:
Raphael was raped by the Kraang.
He doesn’t remember.
Until suddenly he does.
The beginning to an uphill battle of recovery.
#orchid writes#ao3 link#cw noncon#cw torture#cw dead dove#raphael#hamato raphael#tmnt raphael#rise raphael#rottmnt raphael#rise leonardo#rottmnt leonardo#tmnt leonardo#hamato leonardo#leonardo#tmnt leo#tmnt raph#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#the kraang#rise kraang#rottmnt fanfiction#rottmnt fic#fanfiction#dead dove do not eat
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HP Cest Fest 2023: Fic ☕️📖
I Await a Protector
Author: ???
Prompt #: 169 (2022)
Ships: Tom Riddle Jr/Tom Riddle Sr; Tom Riddle Sr/Harry Potter
Rating: Explicit
Wordcount: 6,000
Warnings/Tags: (oh boy), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, necrophilia, graphic description of corpses, Major Character Death, incest, monster-fucking (Voldemort has snake parts), desecration BY a corpse, snuff, father/son, graphic non-con, consensual and non-consensual voyeurism, necromancy, insects, larvae, physical and psychological torture, graphic violence, suffocation, underage, anal sex, anal fingering
Summary: The events following Voldemort's resurrection at the end of the Triwizard Tournament go a little... differently.
Or,
Expecto Patronum, but the Patronus that emerged was not the one you expected.
Read on AO3
#hp cest fest#hp cest fest 2023#riddlecest#voldemort#tom riddle sr#harry potter#m/m#cw incest#cw dead dove#fic claim
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EVERY INCH 3.
4.4k words, m!ghostface x f!reader
Every inch 🔪 Every inch 2
SUMMARY: Ghostface watches you and calls you. He gets bored, and one of your friends gets killed. You try to swear ghostface off, but he stalks you. You want revenge.
A/N: THANK YOU for all the love. Masked Ghostface, inspired by canon gfs & night walks. HC who you want. Enough recap in the first paragraph to read as a one shot.
WARNINGS: I8+ noncon p in v, exhibitionism, voyeurism, gun play, choking, degradation, slut shaming, drugs, creampie, noncon breeding, phone sex, masturbation, knife play, a modicum of canon-typical plot/violence. Gf calls himself daddy. DEAD DOVE. NO USE OF Y/N. Starts in GHOSTFACE POV.
You aren't doing yourself any favors by thinking about him every time you get off. You should get on tinder. Go on another date. Get a boyfriend. But there's too much now. You've got a video of him whimpering with his cock out after you had your way with him, and a picture of him with cum all over his robe a minute later. And then there's the mirror pic he took in your bathroom. He's behind you, holding you naked in front of him. There's a look of arousal on your face, and you must be so ashamed, but you keep coming back to look at it every night. . .and you're not the only one.
Ghostface air dropped it to himself right after he took the pic. You should really be more careful with your settings. And your blinds, and your curtains. But you don't wanna be more careful, do you? You've got everything the cops could need to put him away. You even had his DNA, and you kept it to yourself. Allll to yourself. And you’d like to have more of it, wouldn't you? It's fascinating, really, how bad you want his cock.
You haven't heard from him in weeks, but he still comes by every once in a while. He sees your neighbor check in on you, and you keep looking at the time on your apple watch until he leaves. He sees you try on your slutty Halloween costumes– your backside looks best in that tight ass nurse dress, but god damn, your tits in that pleather. What a pretty pussy you are. Meow. He sees you get dressed for bed, and just in time.
You check your phone and glance out your bedroom window before you take out your vibrator. Ghostface takes out his cock and lifts his mask to spit on it. This is his season, you know. You must think about him all the time. Every time you see one of those phony Stab costumes. Every time you carve a pumpkin. He lets you get a head start building to your climax. God damn, you want that cock, and you do an awful job hiding it when you see the call from a restricted number. You look at your phone, biting your lip, and let it ring for a few seconds before you wet your lips and answer it. But you don't say anything. Ohh, playin’ hard to get, are ya?
Ghostface admires the stiffness of his cock in his hand and strokes it while he watches you try not to speak first. It's quite the game of chicken–at least a full minute of silence. He breathes heavier as he strokes himself, and then he hears the buzz of your toy.
"Mmm, good kitty."
"What do you want?" Your breathing is heavy, too.
"Wanna know how bad ya want this cock."
"Is your cock all you think about?"
He breathes a laugh. "That'd make two of us, wouldn't it?"
You scoff, still touching yourself, teasing your clit with your vibrator.
"Yeah that's it," he pants, and you arch your back. "Come for daddy." You come so fast it's pitiful.
You're easy. Too easy. He's getting bored.
You're a bad, bad girl, and he wants to find out how bad. You know, he's never much cared for your "friend" Marla. He suspects you don't either, based on the way you tense at her hug in the bookstore.
—-----you-------
A DILF cop comes by your house. Must be new to the force since you've never seen him. You're used to them checking on you. The COP asks if he can come in, probably trying to be thorough, you think. But he asks you to take a seat, and he sits down next to you on your sofa. When he has trouble meeting your eyes, your pulse quickens.
He knows. He must know somehow. He knows you're a sick fuck who has phone sex with ghostface and gets off to his dick pics every night. Maybe he even knows you fucked him. He might even know you forced him. You're blanking on excuses if they find the photos in your phone. The cop leans forward and his biceps strain the short sleeves of his tan uniform. He wrings his large, veiny hands as he turns his head to look at you. Finally, his big brown eyes meet your gaze, and he tells you, "He's back. Got a crime scene down the block"
The relief lasts about ten seconds, and then you don't have to feign your horror. The blood rushes from your head to your pounding heart. You foolishly thought his killing days might be behind him.
"Officer. . ."
"Call me Javi."
"How do you know it's him, Javi?" You challenge him.
"You really wanna know?" He raises his eyebrows at you.
"It's him, sweetheart." He puts a big, warm hand on your upper back, then slides it up to squeeze your shoulder. "Got someone who can stay with ya?"
You take a few seconds to answer, then whisper, “yeah.”
"Well, if not . . . " he sighs and leans way back on the sofa to reach into his uniform pants for his wallet. "Got a pen?"
He writes his personal number on a business card and leaves it with you. As you let him out the front door, sirens are wailing.
Later, you see the crime scene online. Marla isn't just dead, she's stabbed, slit, and bled dry. The water runs red in the fountain you pass every day on the way out of your neighborhood. A needed reminder of the sicko you’re dealing with.
Over the next few days, you delete the ghostface photos and the video. You get a call from a restricted number and don’t answer it. You get a text from an unsaved number: don’t tell me you thought I changed.
You delete it. When you’re leaving the neighborhood one day, you spot Javi in an unmarked car. When you get to your destination, you text him “why are you following me?”
Like a boomer, he calls you instead of texting back. You don’t answer. Then he replies, “Why don’t you have company? You shouldn’t be alone.”
You send back, “If I have company, will you leave me alone?”
“I can give you some space, sure. But I have a job to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Keeping you safe.”
—--
You’re not going to let ghostface control your life. You don’t know what would happen if you ran into him now, and you try not to think about it, although you do find yourself going into the trash folder on your phone to look at what you deleted. You make plans to go out with friends. It’s the first weekend of October, and there’s a huge Halloween festival. You put on your nurse costume.
An hour before your friends arrive, your doorbell rings. You look at your app and it’s Javi. Well, this is awkward, you think as you finish pulling up your black, thigh-high fishnets. You answer the door and let Javi in, trying not to let your eyes linger on the way his arms stretch his sleeves. You decline to sit down.
“Look, if you’re gonna go out, you should carry this,” he says, then looks you up and down and his gaze lingers on your cleavage. You clear your throat. He swallows and gives a subtle smile like yeah so what? “Gonna wear a purse?” he asks.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” You roll your eyes.
You reluctantly change into the cat costume and wear a bat purse. You go out with your friends and everyone gets way too drunk. Your friend Sam gets in an altercation after a frat party, and your other friends have to restrain her and walk her home. You’re tired and you don’t want to deal with it. You insist you’ll be fine since you’re armed. You decide to walk a couple blocks before you order your ride home so you can wait somewhere with more people around.
—--ghostface—-
You filthy little slut. Are you enjoying yourself? Ignoring him, playing hard to get, acting like you’re not flattered, then teasing him, prancing around Woodsboro looking like a handjob costs $20. Walking alone through an alley – you really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you?
Ghostface knows where you’re headed. He’s seen you take this route before, so he gets ahead of you and waits. He’s vaping in the shadows behind a fire escape in the alley. When he hears the click of your slutty boots, he hits send: a dark alley? lmao. He hears the ding on your phone and the click of your heels slows down right before you reach the fire escape. no point running, he sends. Then he brings the vape pen under his mask and sucks in a mouth full of smoke, and your phone illuminates your face and your eyes widen.
—--you—--
The alley smells like weed. You’re reading the texts when ghostace appears from behind the fire escape, coming at you with his robe flowing behind him. He only has one glove on. His gloved hand grabs your throat and he pins you to the wall. You choke and gasp for air. He tilts his mask and a small amount of smoke billows out of the dark mesh at the top of his long, black mouth. He eases up on your throat only to move his hand to your jaw and tighten his grip, squeezing your cheeks to keep your mouth open as the smoke billows thicker and closer. His mask is only an inch from your mouth. You close your eyes and breathe in, and as he releases the smoke into your mouth, your clit throbs. You've got butterflies in your chest, being close to him again. You cough.
"Good girl," he says as he relaxes his grip on your jaw. Then his knee nudges your purse out of the way and wedges your thighs open.
“Bet ya miss me more than Marla, don’t ya?”
If only he wasn’t right. There’s a fire burning in the pit of your stomach just being close to him. But Javi will probably be here any minute, and you need to put up a fight so they won't be onto you. You abruptly knee ghostface in the groin. He grunts and falls backward only slightly.
"Bad kitty." He takes you by the throat again as you try to fight back. “Bad, bad girl.” He hasn't brandished his knife, but you know he has it. You can't get your gun out quickly enough. You look at your phone and it flies out of your hand as Ghostface grabs your wrist.
He lets go of you and picks your phone up off the ground, then walks away, robe trailing behind him as he disappears into the night.
You try to follow him, but he loses you. The audacity–he shotguns you, gets you all riled up, takes your phone, and leaves you, just assuming you won’t do anything about it. Assuming you’ll chase him. You think about the fountain scene. You think about him leaving you. Rage eclipses your desire. If you see him, you might actually shoot him. Now all you have is your metro card to get home, and luckily you’re close enough to the train station.
–-
Scattered groups of drunk college students stumble around, bicker, and laugh.
The train doors are open and you jog to make it in time, just barely squeezing in before the door closes behind you. The car is full, but not packed. A Freddy Kruger makes room for you, and you stand with your hand braced on the pole. You get a message on your apple watch, meaning ghostface must be in bluetooth distance.
always wanted to see you on the pole.
You look behind you, and there he is, sitting at the back of the car. You should run, but you’re gonna get your phone back at the very least. There’s too much damage he could do with what’s on it. As the passengers finish unloading, you discreetly open your purse and put your hand on your gun, then set your sights on ghostface, who’s manspreading and sitting back. The only other company in the back of the train car is a Michael Myers who looks to be passed out drunk.
You take out the gun and turn the safety off as you approach ghostface in your slutty cat costume. He pulls back his head and cowers in an exaggerated oh, i’m scared move. He stays quiet, for once.
“My phone,” you tell him.
He looks around, pretending like he has no idea what you’re talking about.
“Now,” you order and put your finger on the trigger. He takes a phone out of his pocket, but it’s not yours.
“What the hell’s wrong with you,” you ask. The train jolts and you’re propelled onto him. You brace yourself with your free hand on his strong shoulder, and when you feel his hard muscle, butterflies swarm to your core. If he isn’t going to offer up your phone, you’ll have to find it yourself. You press the muzzle of the gun into his neck, through the fabric of his mask. He freezes. You reach under his robe and pat him down, finding nothing in the front pockets of his jeans. You should check his back pockets, but first you grab his crotch while you’re at it and laugh when he’s semi-hard.
“Cock’s the only thing you’re good for, and this is what you’ve got for me?” His mask tilts down, watching you grope him. You savor the feeling of control. “Worthless,” you spit. Desire bubbles between your thighs as you feel him harden in your grip. Fuck it, you’re gonna take him one last time. You don’t want the last memory of all this to be him dominating you in your bathroom. You wanna go out on top. You fumble with his button and zipper with your free hand, then command, “Take it out.”
He tilts his mask at you, then looks behind you as though seeing who’s around.
“No one’s looking,” you mutter. “Stop fucking around.” You hold the gun to his neck and he urgently takes his hard cock out. You reach down for it. It’s thick and warm in your hand. “Don’t feel half as big as ya look on camera,” you tell him. “Pretty sad.” You spit in your hand and reach for his cock again. “So desperate for my attention,” you mock him. “You’ll do anything, wont ya?”
This is fine, you tell yourself, You’ll tell the cops he forced you, and then you’ll even have his DNA, and they can catch him, and this can all be over. . .after one last ride.
You put your knees on the seat on either side of him. You hover over his cock and use your free hand to run the head through your dripping folds, then you sink onto him and bottom out with ease. His cock twitches against your walls, and a shiver races down your spine. Your nipples harden, visible even through your pleather top. The sheer arousal pisses you off. He feels too good. A man like this doesn't deserve to be so good at dicking you down, without even trying. Without doing anything. You move up and down him, and he does exactly nothing. He knows it gets you off. You hate how full he makes you feel. You resent the incomparable pleasure that will linger in your mind, in your whole body, for days. Maybe forever.
He moans soft enough that the voice changer doesn't pick it up. You wince at the sound of his humanity.
Something comes over you. “Shut the fuck up,” you tell him as you bring yourself down on his cock again. . “I don't wanna hear your voice." You raise yourself up. "I don’t wanna know who you are." You roll your hips into him. "I don’t fucking care. I don’t care about you at all," you bite, fucking yourself on his cock, dripping wetter and wetter. You keep degrading him as you fuck him. "You’re nothing to me." In your lower belly, a climax is building. "You’re a faceless cock. Always have been.” He sits motionless as you ride him harder. Maybe it was the weed, but you can’t get enough.
When the train reaches the next stop, you tug down your dress as much as you can and sit still on his cock. You hide the gun between your bodies.
Your watch dings with a notification–an unsaved number.
how's the 🍆
A shadow eclipses you from behind, and you hear the snap of a picture. Your face goes ice cold.
"Oh you're a reeeeeal bad girl, aren't ya?" The real ghostface says behind you. All the hair on your body stands up, and your heart pounds as you look at the costume in front of you. The lack of gloves, the quality of fabric, the jeans under it. The cock of a stranger twitches inside you and the gun shakes in your hand. "What the fuck," you mutter. You start to get off the man, but the real ghostface slams you back down on him.
"Oh don't stop now, kitty. "
He holds you down on the man's cock. "Lovin’ this Halloween special. sure he is, too. Ain't ya, buddy?"
"What the hell’s goin' on," the man mutters in a regular voice.
You’re about to berate the man for deceiving you. "You let me," then you feel the heavy weight of the gun in your hand and stop short, shame rushing into every blood vessel of your body.
"Better finish what ya started," the real Ghostface says. "A happy customer won't snitch, right brother?"
When you don't move, Ghostface says, "god damnit," then squats down and wraps his arm around you. "Do I have to do everything?" He lifts you up a little, so the man's cock almost falls out, then drops you back down. He lifts you up and down the man's hard cock, and it's horrifically erotic having Ghostface fuck you on another man's dick. The real Ghostface cock is hard against your back.
Ghostface adjusts his grip and grabs a tit as he forces you up and down. The man’s Stab mask tilts down, watching his cock disappear into you again and again. Your lips part, and a moan slips out.
"Oh, you filthy, filthy girl," Ghostface chides.
"Shut up," you snap as Ghostface sheaths the man’s cock with you again.
"Gonna cum for him, pumpkin? Milk his cock?"
No, God no, this random guy can't cum inside you. Your body stiffens and you shake your head no.
"Oh, c'mon, kitty."
"No," you whimper.
Ghostface sighs in exasperation and one of his arms leaves your torso for a moment. Then he points his knife at the man you're riding. "Ten seconds."
Ghostface holds the knife to your throat as he keeps manhandling you on the guy's cock, counting down, "ten," he lifts and lowers you, "nine," stuffing you with the man's cock, "eight," and he's only at "seven," when the man flattens his back and arms against the subway seats and shudders as he lifts his hips into you. Ghostface forces you down, and you cry, "no," drowned out by the man's groan as he cums. You moan at his pulsations. It's sick, disgustingly hot, getting pumped full of this stranger's cum on a subway car with Ghostface holding a knife to your throat. Your spine arches and you begin to convulse, milking the stranger’s cock just like Ghostface told you to.
"Hellll yeahhh." Ghostface gropes your tit. His cock twitches against your back. He addresses the stranger, "She's hot for a serial rapist, right?" as he lets your weight fully down onto the man. He lets you push yourself off the man, and ghostface holds you by your neck so you won't run. As the man's cock flops sloppily onto his open jeans, Ghostface tells him, "now get the fuck outta here." The man in the ghostface mask is still zipping up his pants when Ghostface adds, "this one needs a real big cock." Then Ghostface asks you, "don't ya, pumpkin?" And takes the man's seat.
The train comes to a stop and as the man scurries out of the subway car, he warns other riders not to board the car. He’s removing his mask as the train pulls away, but you don’t get to see him. Ghostface takes the man's seat and hikes up his robe, revealing his pj pants. He takes his cock out and manhandles you onto his lap. You hover. You're not about to hop on his dick, but let’s face it, you’re not gonna put up a fight, either. You're tired. You're confused. You're horny as hell. There must be something in that weed.
Out the window, everyone is staring as the train slowly pulls away.
Ghostface hikes your dress all the way up and stares between your legs with the stranger's cum seeping out of you.
"Look at this mess," he catches the cum with the flat of the knife, cool against your folds. He slowly drags the knife toward himself, then angles it up toward your mound. Then he takes the knife off you. He wraps his hand around your ass and the handle of the knife rests against your skin. “Now sit on daddy’s cock.”
He lifts you onto his cock. He hesitates with his tip notched at your entrance, and you twitch with need. Then he pulls you down, and his thick cock stretches you – a pleasant, easy stretch – as you sink onto him. He's bigger than the cock you just had.
"What's my favorite movie?" He asks, then begins to move you on his cock. He holds you still. You're dying for friction. "Strangers on a train," he answers for you, and you ignore him. "Hitchcock's overrated,” Ghostface says. “Now I've got my *own*.” Great, he took a video, too. This is bad for you, really bad, but all you can think about is the big, hard cock inside you. He's still not moving, and neither are you. Your clit is throbbing. You begin to rock your hips as the train slows down .
Ghostface slaps your ass with his bare hand. "Made for the screen, baby." His hips begin to move under you, finally. You close your eyes, feeling his thick shaft pump in and out of you, sliding with ease through the other man's cum. "Sure can take a cock." He feels so fucking good. Why did he have to kill again? Why can't he just fuck you? God his cock feels good. "Bet ya coulda taken us both," ghostface says and his cock twitches inside you. "Ohh, fuck." The train stops. He puts down his knife and takes the gun from you. "Yeah, this hole could take two, no problem." His crude words are making you throb more. You feel people watching from the train window, and your face is hot, but you can't get enough of this cock. "Maybe that's what this filthy cunt needs. Two cocks." Your walls twitch around him. "Ooohhh, like the sound'a that, don't ya?" You feel an orgasm building in your gut. "Hell yeah, dirty girl."
The train leaves the station again. “Maybe next time I’ll bring a friend.” he brings the gun to your face. He prods your cheek with the muzzle. Then nudges your lips open and you groan in protest.
"Give it a kiss, pumpkin'" You pull your head back and turn your cheek. Your heart is beating out of your chest. Your vision is blurry. Your body is dizzy with pleasure and adrenaline. Ghostface gives up on putting the gun in your mouth. He drags the cool metal down your face, around your neck, to your back, then keeps dragging it down. Then he slouches down in the seat and adjusts your angle on top of him, pulling you tighter against his chest.
His massive, ungloved hand lifts your ass cheeks out of the way and spreads you wide. He brings you upward, letting most of his cock out, then you feel the cool metal at your dripping entrance. He wedges the cold muzzle of the gun into your pussy right alongside his cock. "Yeah, take it, kitty."
You groan as he pulls you down on his cock and the gun. What has he done to you? Why is this so hot? "Yeah, knew ya could take two cocks." To your horror, you find your hips rocking. "Fuck yeah," he growls. The barrel of the gun is cool against the back wall of your cunt, and your hole is squeezing his cock tighter now. He wriggles the gun around in a circular motion against his cock. "Ohh yeah." The train speeds up. "Hold on tight," he warns. He begins to manhandle you on his cock and the gun. You're on the edge. Your asshole tightens and tension swells in your core.
"Fuck," you whisper.
He feels it. "Yeah, that's right." You hold your breath. "Cum for me, pumpkin, or I'll make you into pie." Your climax overtakes you and you wince as you clench around the gun and his cock.
"Goooood giirl," he says with your body jerking around his. "There's daddy's little slut." Wave after wave hits you and your cunt squeezes him and the gun. He holds you tighter against him and lifts you enough to slide the gun out, leaving your exhausted cunt looser around him. “Yeah, plenty’a room for two.” You're still having aftershocks. They're not fading, like another one could build. You reach for your clit. "Needy, needy cunt." You rub yourself and he rocks you on his cock until you cum again.
"Hell yeah," he moans when you clench around him. Then he erupts inside you with a groan. His cock pulses against your walls as his warm spend mixes with the other man's. "Yeahhh." His cum goes on and on. "Fuck, yeahh."
As soon as he's finished coming, he pulls you off his lap. He tucks his cock back in his PJs. The train rolls to a stop.
He pats your lower belly. “Won’t know who's the father," he chides, "but at least ya know who's daddy."
—
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Now that you know what happens, it's a solid re-read. Especially when reader is degrading him 😭 lmk your thoughts when you come back to reread too, it's not weird lol.
THANK YOU FOR READING. If you want another one, reblogs make all the difference!!! I appreciate comments, too. 🖤🖤🖤 but reblogs get other people to read it which helps a lot, no matter how small your blog. It also affects the algorithm. If engagement is good, that helps guarantee a next one. If it "flops" compared to the first two, that's discouraging.
if you liked this smut, check out raider Joel meanwhile.
Also BTW gasolinerainbowpuddles is responsible for giving me the kink of degradation about unknown paternity starting with the fic liquid gold which is amazing.
#ghostface x reader#ghostface smut#ghostface x you#slasher smut#slasher fanfiction#cw noncon#tw noncon#night walks#ghostface#slasher fucker#billy loomis x reader#ethan landry x reader#toxicanonymity ☠️#mickey altieri#dead dove#danny johnson x reader#love2cuck#ghostface!joel miller#ghostface ☠️
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ruination
cw nsfw under cut, noncon, dead dove do not eat, female reader, degradation, car sex, use of degrading names (fucktoy, slut, cumdump), choking, overstimulation, heeseung cums inside.
“what did you fuckin’ expect?” heeseung grunts, your hair wrapped around his fist as he pulls your body up against his, breath hitting your ear. your eyes are squeezed shut, small whimpers escaping your mouth the harder heeseung slams into you. “going around and wearing shit like that? wanna go show off your ass and tits to a bunch of horny fuckers, might as well give you what you wanted.”
“hee—heeseu—” a loud cry leaves your lips when he gives a swift but just as hard smack to your ass, barely even able to feel the sting from the millionth time he’s done this.
“shut the fuck up,” he pushes your head back down into the backseat, “fucktoys don’t talk.”
squeezing your eyes shut tighter didn’t do anything for your tears, just pushing them out even quicker. if you could think of something happier… but the feeling of him stuffing you full was overwhelming, making you lose grasp of reality.
“you can’t fool me,” heeseung hisses your name through gritted teeth, as if he’s even disgusted to say your name, “saying you’re a virgin… no virgin would be easily sucking me in like this.”
your head turns to the side, revealing your teary eyes with tears rushing down your cheeks, “heeseung, p-please, stop. i-it hurts!”
“‘cause you like it like that,” he huffs, hips snapping into yours at a brutal pace. “like all dirty sluts do. you like to be put in your place, you like the pain. i know you do.”
you gasp out in a mix of mortification and pleasure as the head of his cock kisses your cervix. heeseung notices, chuckling as he pulls out without warning and flips you over, quick to push himself back in your wet, puffy cunt. you whimper at the intrusion, blinking back tears as you keep your eyes on the necklace that swings from his neck in your face.
“see, i knew you liked it,” he whispers, leaning down to press his lips to yours only for you to turn your head to the side so his mouth was against your cheek. his brow raises, slowly thrusting in and out of you but with enough force to make your entire body move. “i suggest you let me kiss you.”
with tears streaming down your cheeks, you turn and keep still as he moves his lips against yours, not all caring that you weren’t responding to the kiss. he was right. you were a dirty slut, weren’t you? you had to be— how else could you be this wet?
heeseung pulls back, glee in his eyes, “i’ve always wanted to do that.” his eyes then darken, “but you never gave me the time of day, did you?” you didn’t notice his hand had moved to your collarbone, slowly increasing your anxiety as his hand finally rests on your neck. his rings are cold around your burning hot neck. he doesn’t squeeze, not yet. “stupid slut was always busy fucking around with her friends’ boyfriends and giving fuck me eyes to all the wrong guys.”
your eyes widen, “no, no,” you attempt to shake your head, but his hand tightens around your neck. your eyes dart to his necklace again, trying to copy the calm swing and repeat it with your breathing. up, in. down, out. but it’s your mistake— heeseung’s grip keeps getting tighter and tighter.
“i told you, you can’t fool me,” heeseung says, eyes burning a hole straight through you. you’re letting out choked gasps, but it only has his cocking twitching inside you.
dots begin to blur your vision, chest tightening with the squeeze on your neck. your walls tighten around his cock in retaliation, making him groan before letting go of your neck and lifting your leg up over his shoulder. there’s a burning in your thigh, but it doesn’t matter when your vision isn’t just colors anymore and all you see is a blurred heeseung over you.
“i’m going to ruin you and that perfect fucking image of yours,” he snaps his hips up, immediately slamming into your g-spot. your hands clutch at the top of the car seat, squeezing your eyes shut and biting down on your lip. think of something else. not his cock hammering repeatedly into you, not the tightening in your stomach or your legs trembling. you wish you could focus on the necklace again.
you cream around his cock, a weak whimper finally leaving your mouth. but heeseung continues to fuck you, his thick cock dragging against your walls. the pleasure soon turned into pain again, grunts coming from his lips as your hand weakly tries to push him away, “ah, ah, heeseu— stop! ‘t’s too fast, please—“ you weakly sob out, but not a tear leaves your eyes. you wonder if you’ve cried all your tears out.
“shut up,” he groans, hips snapping up to hit the soft spongy spot with each word, “and lay there and fucking take it.” his hand comes to grip your jaw, pulling you into a kiss as his thrusts become weak and sloppy. “f—fuck, i’m go—going to fill you up with my cum,” he grunts making your eyes widen.
“wh—what?” you stammer, fists trying to punch him away again. “heeseung, don’t—”
“ruin y—you for all oth—other guys,” he continues like you’re not even talking, writhing under him for him to get off. “no guy wants a fucking cumdump as their girlfriend,” he grits out, bottoming out in you with a low groan and releases inside of you with three quick squirts. his head is thrown back, ecstasy shown on his face as he pants above you.
you watch him through lidded eyes, hoping this was it. he was done with you. you could go get plan b, and forget this day ever happened.
heeseung’s head lowers, dark eyes settling on you and dread begins to fill your chest again. you can feel his cock hardening in you again, a squeak leaving your lips as it stretches out your abused walls.
“i’m not done with you yet,” he whispers in your ear, pressing a soft kiss under your jaw. it feels misleading. “i told you i was going to ruin you.”
#cw noncon#tw noncon#heeseung.txt#enha.txt#writing.txt#1k#heeseung smut#enhypen smut#dead dove do not eat#dead dove fic#kpop smut#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours
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i love how whenever i talk abt Vader's uterus, everyone disengages, but then i get a score of notes on some of my older Anakin posts.
My only assumption is that either (1) yall are cowards, or (2) you found the idea of Vader's uterus to be #yikes but, before unfollowing, you graciously checked to see if i've ever posted NOT deranged content (and were relieved to find that the answer is yes lmfao).
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*NSFW* How to train your pet Human (Yandere!Alien X GN!Reader)
CW: Mind break, training, human pet, pet/owner relationship, humiliation, dub-con, non-con, dead dove
Pt 2, pt 3
(Reader) sat quietly and fearfully in a small cage that didn't allow for any wiggle room, their legs falling asleep under them from being in the same position for so long. They didn't remember how they got here, in a cage surrounded by freaks in what seemed to be a street market, only remembering walking home from the convenience store a little past midnight and seeing a white, blinding light before passing out.
Aliens of all shapes stuck their disgusting faces towards the bars of (Reader's) cage, speaking in sounds that didn't sound like speech at all. (Reader) watched as sniffling cages near them were bought one by one, and feared for their future.
After nearly an entire day (Reader) felt their cage lift high above the ground without shaking, and witnessed a tall creature draped with beautiful deep blue robes raise the cage to get a better look at (Reader's) face without needing to bend down. And bending down to the tiny cage must have been impossible without dirtying it's knees, since it seemed over seven feet tall.
It's face face was smooth, with large, opal colored eyes eyes in a hard shelled face. There was no nose, or lips, on its black and purple iridescent face. It spoke in a human like voice, in an earth language (Reader) couldn't understand.
"What?" Their voice was dry from dehydration.
"I asked what language you speak."
The voice was higher than expected, and melodic, yet still masculine. He lowered the cage to his hip, but didn't set (Reader) down, exchanging chatter with the seller and handing over a bag full of, what (Reader) assumed to be, some type of currency.
(Reader) was carried back to what looked like to be a large ship, dying of anxiety over what was going to become of them. They passed through multiple corridors and gateways, before entering a room decorated with glass cases and blue drapery the same color as the alien's cloak. He placed the cage on the floor and unlatched it, stepping back to give (Reader) space.
They tried to stand, but their legs were dead from the hours they spent bent doubled over. They cried in pain as the feeling began to slowly tingle down their thighs to their feet.
"What is wrong, human?"
(Reader) wiped away the snot and tears rolling down their chin. "My-My legs are numb from sitting in the cage. It hurts."
The one who bought (Reader) reached under their arm pits, raising them up and sitting them on a very high desk. He reached with what looked like scaled hands and began to massage their legs. (Reader) whined in discomfort, both at the pain and the uncomfortable situation, fearful to push the much taller creature away. Now that they were out of the cage, the alien was much taller and imposing, visibly sleek bodied under the fabric, but not scrawny, (Reader) could feel his strength.
"What is your name, human?"
"...(Reader)."
"(Reader)." He practiced saying their name, still massaging their legs. "I am Kirtch."
(Reader) nervously fiddled with the bottom of their shirt. "Why am I here?"
Kirtch pried his eyes away from their legs, looking down into (Reader's) scared face. "This will be your new home."
"What?" (Reader's) heart dropped into their stomach.
"I promise your safety, (Reader). I will do my best to provide you with comfort." Kirtch picked (Reader) up again, but didn't set them down, carrying them around the room giving them a little tour. The room was actually three, entering from the main hall into a study first, with another door leading to a bedroom, a small restroom hidden within that.
"I didn't expect to be bringing you home, so I don't have any human furniture yet. Although I've never owned a human before there is no need for you to fret, I have done extensive research, and I am confident as a first time owner."
(Reader) only just began to fully realize what was happening to them. "I.. I want to go home." The back of their throat got tight, choking back a sob painfully. Their nose began to tingle and they knew they wouldn't be able to hold back their tears for long.
Kirtch rubbed their back in what was supposed to be a comforting manor, but his hands were harder than a humans, and it was rough against their skin. "You'll feel better once your adjustment period is over. I shall bring you something to eat. It won't be a cultural dish from your planet, but it will be made of human safe ingredients."
(Reader) stretched their legs while trying to smile through their tears. 'Like hell. I'd rather die.'
They watched as he left the room, wondering how far away the kitchen or dining area was from the room they were in. (Reader) waited for a few minutes after Kirtch left before shakily rushing towards the door. But the door had no handles or knobs, it was a flat wall with barley any indication that there was an opening at all. They touched all over the spot (Reader) had seen the tall man had placed his hand, but nothing happened.
"no no nO NO!" They slapped the "door" in frustration. Time for plan B. (Reader) pressed their back against the wall, as flat as they could muster, just trying to make sure they wouldn't be visible in Kirtch's peripherals. The fear was destroying the lining of (Reader's) stomach, gurgling uncomfortably.
A whirring noise activated as Kirtch entered the room, holding a tray in his hands. It was quick, but (Reader) snuck right behind Kirtch and out the room without him noticing, right before the automatic door slid shut. The walls of the hallway were very tall and slightly rounded, made out of a blue metal. (Reader) began running in the direction they remembered entering from. They knew the probability that they were still on land was slim, but dying was better than being kept a prisoner without any hope of returning home.
(Reader) made it down only one hallway before strong hands effortlessly lifted them under their armpits. They kicked while crying, not seemingly phasing Kirtch in the slightest. He brought them back to his room, and his lack of anger hurt (Reader's) pride; it was good that he wasn't furious, threatening to hurt them, but his calmness reinforced the futility of (Reader's) escape attempt.
"That was my fault. I read that humans were prone to escaping, especially in the adjustment period. I should have expected this." He sat down, a deep imitation of a sigh rumbling through his hard chest. Kirtch sat down in his large chair in front of his desk, and laid (Reader) across his knees as their face fell. "Knowing this is my fault brings me no joy for what I need to do, however the manual did say that humans will test authority and will continue to do so if not punished."
(Reader) protested while squirming, incapable of breaking free as Kirtch slid their pants down to their thighs, exposing their bare bottom. His shelled hand was cold against their skin. (Reader) clenched to prepare themselves for contact, but it was useless against the inhuman slap, his hard flesh resulting in a sharp pain like they had been struck with a paddle instead of a hand. They yelped, squeezing their thighs together as the tears began to form again.
Another slap connected with their ass painfully, stinging as their tender rear began to bruise.
"I'm so-sorry!" (Reader) blubbered, another whack rippling their buttocks aggressively.
"Humans may appear remorseful, however this is self defense tactic to cease the pain they are experiencing. Unless one establishes themselves as the dominant force, they will continue to act out."
"No! I really am sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" Their voice cracked as they screamed out the apology between sobs and slaps.
Kirtch smiled, rubbing the skin he had split open, stinging the fresh cuts. "I shall finish with your punishment for now. I do not wish to spoil you, but I would be lying if I didn't have a soft spot for you, my cute little pet. The next time this happens I will not be so gentle.."
(Reader) widened their eyes in horror. That was gentle?!
"Would you rather spend your first night in my bed, or shall I prepare a nest on the floor for you? I will buy a suitable human bed for you tomorrow, of course, but until then..?"
"The floor." (Reader) replied a little too quickly.
A "nest" of bedding was constructed, and (Reader) did find it quite comfortable, but refused to sleep, fearful that at any moment they would be in danger. They rested for what only felt like three or fours hours, max, before Kirtch rose from his bed and begun his day. His routine was uncannily similar to a human's, rising and dressing in his robe, stretching and leaving to five something to eat. It only enraged (Reader) further at their inhumane treatment.
"I am not a dog." They whispered to themselves, as though fearful they would forget.
The ship must have been still docked at the trader's colony, because throughout the day gifts for (Reader) were brought into Kirtch's room and office. With each piece of "human" furniture Kirtch would happily rub (Reader's) head, petting them like an animal and waiting for them to show some kind of sign that they enjoyed their new toys. But (Reader) showed no such sign, feeling humiliated as they were treated like a cat instead of an adult human. But they didn't snack away Kirtch's hand, or tell him off, scared of being punished again, so they simply sulked, trying to hide from his gaze so they could disassociate without interruption.
His new pet's attitude was making Kirtch worried. He flipped through the human owning handbook, wondering what he could be doing wrong. They seemed so stressed, and Kirtch felt it was far worse than the normal stress of a new environment. Then Kirtch flipped to an interesting chapter on chemical responses. "If your human has pent up frustrations or stress, a fun way to help them relieve themselves is the manual release of the chemical oxytocin..."
(Reader) hid under a box, hating the irony of their hiding place while they tried to formulate a new escape plan, now knowing that they were in fact still connected to some type of land. Not every alien could be a cruel monster, there had to be some kind of interplanetary animal rights group or space hippies. The box was lifted and removed from (Reader) sat to the side as Kirtch smiled down on them.
"I'm sorry I haven't been playing with you, pet. I've been so busy trying to make this room more comfortable for you that I have been unintentionally neglecting you." He scooped (Reader) up into his arms, and brought them over to his desk, which he had already cleared off. (Reader) nervously glanced around, wondering what was going to happen to them. "But I wanted to help you become acclimated to your new home. And you still feel more comfortable the sooner we ease your stress." He pulled out a box and a couple of strange bottles with syringes.
(Reader) scrambled to get away, but was quickly held down by one hand, being shushed in what was supposed to be a calming manner. One of the strange bottles filled the syringe, making (Reader) thrash harder. Kirtch pulled down their pants, revealing their still sore ass cheeks, and stuck in the needle, injecting them with the unknown liquid. (Reader) cried out as a warm sensation rippled through their body, turning their limbs to jello and making it difficult to breathe.
Kirtch released them, seeing that they could no longer run from him. (Reader) growled, pissed off that their body wouldn't act as they wanted it to. "What did you do to me?!" Their body was rapidly heating, becoming to feverish to hold up.
"If your human has pent up frustrations or stress, a fun way to help them relieve themselves is the manual release of the chemical oxytocin..." Kirtch opened the box next, revealing a strange rubber looking object shaped like a cup on the outside with polyps inside. "I have always wanted a pet human, (Reader), so I was very excited to see you for sale. You are the most attractive like human I've ever seen, and I promise to give you a long, happy life."
The device was placed on (Reader's) crotch, attaching itself to their pubic area without needing to be held on. It came to life, each nub moving on it's own as it rubbed (Reader's) growing erection. The contraption grew against (Reader's) body, enlarging to fill every hole and crevice, pulsating and writhing like a living creature.
"No! It feels gross! Take it off!" (Reader) screamed in fear, watching as their hips bucked against their will and their nipples hardened through their shirt. Tears over how unfair everything was pricked at their eyes. Kirtch lifted (Reader) into the sitting position, rubbing their back soothingly while giving them a better view of the throbbing toy violating them.
"Shh. There's a good pet.." His words felt like taunts to (Reader) as they kept approaching their orgasm.
(Reader's) body was shaking as it begged for release, but (Reader) held strong, trying to rob Kirtch of the satisfaction of seeing them crumble. Another bottle was opened, this one however was poured down (Reader's) throat before they had a chance to cognitively force themselves to close their mouth. The warm liquid was tasteless and odorless, but the effect was like an immediate five shots of vodka, clearing (Reader's) sinuses and plunging them into a drunken stupor.
"What..? What..?" (Reader) couldn't even form their sentence correctly. Their unfocused eyes drifted around confusedly before snapping down to their lower regions, feeling their stomach muscles clench in anticipation.
Kirtch continued to rub their head and chest, gently rubbing their head like a good puppy while he rolled their nipple between his harsh fingers. "Whose my good little pet?"
"Ahh! No.. I'm not a pet.." (Reader's) whimpering voice mewled pathetically, their quivering lips complimenting their sweaty visage. The tingling feeling that had been building was ready to overflow.
"Don't you want to cum, little pet? It's okay. I'll make sure to always keep you happy like this, all you have to do is ask nicely." Kirtch leaned in, amused by his human's drenched thighs soaking his desk, shaking from being denied their orgasm. Behind (Reader's) back, Kirtch held a remote. They would not achieve relief until they played the part of a good little pet.
Drool dripped down (Reader's) chin, unnoticed by their hazy mind. "I-I want to cum."
"What was that?"
"Please let me cum?" They moaned, trying to press themselves deeper into the toy.
A button was pressed outside of (Reader's) peripherals.
Their body rocked violently as (Reader) was finally allowed to achieve their climax. Kirtch continued to stroke their head affectionately, whispering words of praise to his little human as liquid dripped from between the toy and their wet holes.
Kirtch kissed the top of their damp head, still smiling over how adorable (Reader) was. Although he hoped his pet would come to love him and enjoy his company on their own, he was secretly excited to use this toy on his little pet again. He peeled the appliance off, causing (Reader) to twitch sensitively in Kirtch's arms. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed, but Kirtch found that it wasn't a bad look on (Reader).
"Why don't you lay down for a nap, little pet. We'll play some more when you wake up."
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere alien#yandere alien x reader#bd/sm pet#gender neutral reader#pet reader#pet human#cw dubcon#smut#brain dead#dead dove do not eat#not proofread#bad writing
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what if… ghost was our boyfriend’s older brother or dad🫦
LOVE this idea :3
cw: cheating, non-con, weed use, blackmail.🍃
your boyfriend's older brother is an asshole - you can sense that his intentions aren't pure whatsoever, his perverted gaze lingering on your body when you sleep over at your boyfriend's house. he tells you, you need someone older - someone that's experienced.
simon is currently visiting, and seeing your presence was causing his hung cock to throb and ache inside his tight boxers, gripping his bulge whilst staring at you, tutting quietly to get your attention.
you had only come downstairs to get a glass of water, exhausted and ready to go back to sleep in your boyfriend's arms. through your tiredness, you decided to comply not to upset or anger simon, and perhaps your perception of simon was wrong - perhaps you were judging too soon. his hands began wandering, watching you fight sleep, barely able to keep his filthy and grimey fingers from exploring as he growled at you for squirming away.
“c’mon, stay still-- jus’ tryna have a conversation...” his voice deepened, became husky and gravelly. he offered you a hit from his joint in an attempt to relax you, watching you take a few hits as the smell of marijuana assaulted your nostrils and your body quickly became relaxed, whimpering quietly. you felt relaxed, breathing out quietly, and through your drugged state, you couldn't keep simon off of you.
he slid your panties down, admiring the way your slicken cunt glistened as he ran a finger through your folds. you bit on the two calloused digits he'd forced into your mouth to muffle your moans, chuckling as he grinded his bulbous and weeping cock into your wet pussy. you didn't even notice the flash on his phone as you threw your head back and gasped at the sensation of his tip against your cervix, bruising you with each thrust.
you cried out through pleasure, too drugged and high to realise what you were doing and its impact. simon's sturdy hips and muscular thighs pressed against your ass as he threw your supple legs over his shoulder, fucking even deeper into your warm, drooling pussy. you gripped simon's hair firmly in attempt to stabilise yourself as you became light-headed, breathing in his spicy and musky cologne as he fucked you stupid on his fat dick, tight and heavy balls pressed against your ass, your moans coming out broken and stuttered as he brutalised your cunny.
the realisation set in the morning after, as you came downstairs, realising what you'd done. guilt and shame hung in the air and churned your stomach, and you prayed that he'd keep quiet about this, understand that it was an accident - that it wasn't supposed to happen !
...only to be pulled aside, his large hand over your mouth as he wrapped an burly and strong arm around your neck, forcing you to watch the video recording of him fucking you, his veiny dick thrusted into your slicken pussy repetitively, and your facial expressions shameful and perverted in hindsight. you didn't even realise, a drugged mess getting fucked relentlessly.
he'll keep it a secret, yeah? with the promise that you'll suck him off and let him corrupt your mind every time he sees you.
and what choice do you really have? you either break up with your boyfriend who you claim to love so dearly, or pleasure your boyfriend's older brother in the hopes he'll keep quiet about this mess.
#orla speaks#tw: non con#dead dove fic#dead dove do not eat#tw: dark content#tw: age gap#tw: age difference#cw: weed#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley smut#cod ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost headcanon#mw2 ghost
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Zouzab’s dead dove: do not eat account.
18+ content, minors do not interact.
Content warnings: cw thing
Spoilers: wingfeather saga spoilers
Profiction/proshipper, anti-censorship, anti-harassment over fictional works
#zouzab-after-dark#cw proship#cw dead dove#dead dove do not eat#dead dove: do not eat#dead dove account#proship
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