#and being punished when you do inevitably move

[ravenromanova]

Punishments

Parings: Wandanat x female avenger

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT!!! DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDERAGE!!!!!! Mommy kink, Daddy kink, Sub space, Edging, Denial, Bondage, Oral, Fingering, Squirting, Overstimulation. DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDER 18!!!!!

Masterlist - Send me requests!!!

This fic came from this request! I hope i did it justice :)

~

You tried to stifle your laughter as you ran down the hall to your room. Once you finally reached your room you didn’t even bother locking the door knowing nothing could stop them. The pranks you pulled on your girlfriends may have backfired a little but it was funny as hell.

It started with you hiding Natasha’s widow bites right before a mission, then you and switched the sugar and salt on Wanda the same say. And as the days went on you kept being a menace to your girlfriends. It didn’t bother them at first since the pranks were mainly harmless. That was until today when you decided to prank them by saying you got really hurt during training and made them come home early from their mission. Let’s just say the look they both gave you when they saw you were fine sent fear down your spine.

They told you they were giving you a few minute head start and to run so that’s what you did. You ran to your room even though you knew it wasn’t going to do anything. And in all reality Wanda and Nat had already been on the way home from their mission when they got your text but you didn’t need to know that. For them they wanted to punish you for causing fear to run through their veins and being a brat as of late.

So they let you get a five minute head start before they slowly made their way to your room. And when they got to your room you were already on the bed sitting on your knees with your palms up.

“Looks like someone knows they fucked up” Wanda says laughing a little bit at your attempt to be a good girl.

“Don’t think this one good act will get you out of being punished Detka” Natasha croons as she sits behind you on the bed. Her fingers slowly brush over your shoulder blades and you shiver at her touch.

“You’ve been so bad these last couple of weeks and we’ve let it slide but this..you need to be punished for” She adds giving you a gentle kiss at the base of your neck.

Wanda moves so she’s in front of you and she takes you chin in between her fingers and your eyes meet hers. She gives you a soft kiss that you knew is luring you into a false sense of security.

The two women share a knowing look before Wanda flicks her wrist and your clothes suddenly disappear. You shiver when you feel the cool air hit your skin and you felt your skin become littered with goosebumps. Both of Wanda’s hands find your shoulders and gently pushes you back against the bed as Natasha moves to your side.

“So pretty” Natasha coos running her nimble fingers down your exposed skin. She sits next to you and attaches her lips around your nipple making you gasp in pleasure.

Wanda moves in between your thighs and uses her magic to restrain your hands. You tug on the restraints but the red tendrils of magic squeeze your wrists tighter. Wanda kisses down your stomach and then moves to your thighs before stopping at your core. The sokovian slowly licks your waiting pussy and you moan in pleasure and surprise. Between Natasha sucking and licking your nipples with fever and Wanda kiss your clit you mewl.

What you didnt know was that both women were going to bring you to the brink and then rip it away from you. They were like lions hunting their prey. Wanda started to suck your clit and ate you like a woman starved. You squirmed underneath her and the russian making them smile in unison.

”You’re so pretty bunny” Natasha cooed in your ear kissing below it. You shiver as her cool breath hits your skin.

Wanda was quick to bring your attention back to her and she shoved two fingers into you unexpectedly. Your back arched off the bed as you try to catch your breathe but inevitably fail. She sets a hard and relentless pace hitting your g-spot every time.

“So fucking wet” Her accent slipped out when she spoke making you and Natasha share a look of lust. The two women were so enthralled with you that they almost forgot about your punishment. But unfortunately for you they didn’t and just as you were about to cum Wanda and Natasha ceased their movements.

“W-What?” You whined pouting at the both of them.

“Did you really think we were gonna let you off the look that easily?” Wanda snarked gripping your chin.

“You made us think you were hurt… You scared us” Natasha said and you heard a hint of fear in her voice. “You need to be taught a lesson” She finished speaking and switched places with Wanda.

“I-Im sorry! Mommy please” You beg Wanda as she comes closer to your face. She laughs before she gives you a light slap against your cheek.

“Shut up” She said in her stern tone that she knew made you fall into your sub space. You looked up at her with doe eyes that nearly made her melt. The way you looked at her she knew you were fully submitting to her her and Natasha.

“I-I’m sorry mommy i didn’t mean it” You said trying to free your hands but it was still no use.

“Say you’re sorry to daddy” Wanda pointed towards Natasha who was laying on your thigh with a devilish smirk.

“I’m sorry daddy” You apologized with sincerity to Natasha making her smile.

“It’s okay bunny but you still need to be punished okay?” She ran her hand up your thigh and started to play with your clit.

You gasped in pleasure feeling Natasha’s warm mouth on your clit. She licked you as if she was on a mission and to her she was. That’s when Wanda undid the restraints on your hands and they immediately flew to her hair bringing her into a kiss. Wanda gratefully accepted your kiss and held you close to her as she did. The two of you got lost in the kiss so lost that it wasn’t until Natasha stuck two fingers in you that you broke the kiss.

You looked back at Natasha who had a smirk on her face as she hit your most sensitive spots. Your hands went from Wanda’s hair to the sheets gripping them in pleasure. The band in your stomach was about to break it was so close until.

“Stop” Wanda commanded and Natasha ceased her assault on your pussy.

“Fuck!” You screamed out in agony as your orgasm was ripped away from you again. Wanda smacked your mouth again making you moan out.

“Watch your mouth” She said and you sunk back into the mattress nodding your head mumbling an ‘i’m sorry.’ Wanda then brought you in for a sweet kiss signaling for Natasha to start fucking you again.

Three fingers where then found their way back inside you and you cried out in pleasure. Natasha pumped her fingers in and out slowly at first making sure you felt all of her. You nearly finished when you felt her press up against your g-spot.

“i-Im gonna cum. Please can i cum?” You begged both of them gripping onto Wanda’s shoulders as she kissed your collarbone.

“Cum” Natasha commanded watching the way your pussy sucked in her fingers with delight.

Your back arched off the bed and you came with a guttural moan making the women groan in satisfaction.

Natasha slowly pulled her fingers out of you and licked them with a smile on her face. Her and Wanda shared another look and they both ended up getting the same idea. They switched places again and Wanda ended up between your thighs again then started to play with you again.

“One more bunny” Wanda cooed slowly circling your clit.

“No” You shook your head. “Please mommy i can’t too sensitive” Your words fell on deaf ears and your words cut off by Natasha’s mouth in yours.

You moaned into Natasha’s mouth as you felt Wanda’s lips circle around your clit. She sucked on your clit with intent and slowly added two fingers into you. The coil that had just went away was very quickly building back up once Natasha started playing with your nipples. Her fingers started to tug and pinch your nipples making you mewl in her touch.

Your head was spinning at the pleasure you were feeling. “OH SHIT!” You moaned back arching off the bed as you finished and ended up squirting on Wanda’s face.

“Oh what a good girl” She praised licking up everything that dripped out of you. Natasha quickly got jealous that Wanda was the one to make you squirt and she straddled your waist. She then dipped her head down and licked up what was left of your mess. Her and Wanda shared a heated kiss both moaning when they tasted you on their tongues.

“You taste so good detka” Natasha praised bringing you in for a kiss and Wanda comes back up to your head. You smile at the both of them in a fucked out haze.

“We need to clean you up” Wanda said softly as she tried to bring you back to earth. You opened your eyes and looked at her before shaking your head no.

“Come on babygirl let’s take a bath” Natasha tried to coax you but you just grumbled at her. Both women chuckled at your antics before Wanda used her magic to start running a bath and Natasha swiftly picked you up.

They slowly put you into the warm water and you felt your muscles slowly relax. Both of them cleaned you up being careful not to overstimulate you more. And after the bath was over they got you dressed before the three of you all climbed into bed together.

Soon you fell into a peaceful sleep next to the two women you loved. Who knew that that prank would actually turn out in your favor?

~The end~

#ravenromanova #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #marvel x reader #natasha x reader #wanda x reader #wandanat x reader smut #wandanat smut #wandanat x reader #wandanat #wandanat x female reader smut #wandanat x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x female reader smut #natasha fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x natasha x reader #wanda x natasha #natasha x reader smut #natasha x female reader #wanda x reader smut #wanda x female reader

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Obedience Training.

Pairing: Yandere!Illumi x Reader (HxH).

Commissioned by the very lovely @h2o2-and-baking-soda.

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Physical/Psychological Abuse, Pet Play, Dehumanization, and Controlling Behavior.

The ring was beyond repair.

It was the ugly kind of damage, too – the gold chipped and dented, some parts entirely flattened while others had scratched and tarnished to the point of virtual unrecognizability. The jewel itself (a diamond the color of the sky just before sunrise and the size of the nail on your pointer finger) had been pried out of its casing and polished with the blunt side of the hammer you’d pilfered from collection of one of the more forgetful servants. Any fragments that might’ve been worth salvaging were then washed down the sink of your en suite, and the near-microscopic remnants glistened against the table’s dark mahogany – twinkling whenever they caught the ample sunlight.

It'd been his mother’s ring; albeit, one of countless. Breaking it in such an obviously deliberate way had been a stupid thing to do, and a part of you must’ve known that while you were doing it. A part of you must’ve basked in the idiotic rage of it all, must’ve been dying to see what Illumi would be like when he couldn’t hide behind those big, blank eyes and that unreadable expression. As hazy as it seemed, you could remember being excited to see how Illumi would react, what he thought he could do to you that he hadn’t already put you through.

Now, though, standing next to him as he evaluated the damage, watching as those dark, glossy eyes skirted from the splintered wood to the decimated ring to the sparkling residue…

You weren’t excited, anymore.

Several seconds passed in silent paralysis. Images of braided rope and rusted chains and broken legs flashed through your subconscious, but he managed to draw you out of your spiraling thoughts with a low hum, a startling click of his tongue. Finally, he turned toward you and raised a hand, and you braced yourself for the feeling his fist around your neck, two fingers piercing the fragile bone of your skull, his pointed nails clawing out your eyes and leaving you to ble—

His palm came to rest on top of your head, petting over your hair gently. “Sweetheart,” he muttered with a tone as warm and as affectionate as a corpse in a snowstorm. “Would you come with me?”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. You nodded, the gesture stilted and jerky, and Illumi offered an approving smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, letting his hand fall to your wrist. He pressed a lingering kiss into the top of your head before tugging you gently towards the door.

Neither of you spoke as he guided you through the halls of his mansion. Usually, you could count on running into one of the sociopaths that made up his family or a member of their bloodthirsty staff whenever you left your room, but today, his sprawling home seemed to be vacant, lifeless, as empty as the killers who dwelled inside of it. Steadily, you moved downward, the marble walls turning to rough stone, the filtered sunlight soon traded out for the artificial glow of dim gas lamps. He didn’t drag his feet or try to prolong your walk to the gallows, but he didn’t rush, either, didn’t seem to be in any rush to carry out your inevitably punishment. Eventually, he came to a stop in front of a simple wooden door – unremarkable in every aspect save for the deep well of dread it managed to dredge up inside of you.

With little ceremony, the door was pushed open and you were ushered inside of ahead of him. Your attention quickly fell onto the object most immediately in front of you: a dog crate.

It was almost shockingly mundane; not overly massive, but big enough for a large pitbull or golden retriever, the bars thin but close together and the bottom cushioned by a small bed with pink and white paw prints splattered across it. A handful of miscellaneous items had been laid on top of it. Your attention caught on the collar, first, the cutesy type with a bell and fake (or, knowing Illumi, very real) gemstones studded into the leather and a matching leash, and then headband with what couldn’t be—

Illumi moved past you, approaching the crate and taking up the undeniably, indisputably dog-eared headband. He turned it over in his hands once, then twice, before speaking. “Strip.”

It sounded like gibberish; partially muffled by the static buzzing over your conscious mind and made even more difficult to process by your own unwillingness to do so. “What?”

“Strip,” he repeated. “Or I’ll break every bone in your right hand.”

It was the specificity of the threat (paired with the implication that your left wouldn’t be long to follow) that had your shaking hands reaching for the hem of your shirt and hauling it over your head. You looked towards him for approval after every shed article, but he only seemed to notice your obedience at all when you stood bare and vulnerable in front of him, completely unprotected from both his prying gaze and the chill of the damp dungeon air. You started to move towards him, but he stopped you with a quick shake of his head, a new softness to his expression. “Kneel.”

With a shallow breath, you complied, lowering yourself onto your knees. Now, now, he took his time, his terrible eyes raking over your trembling form as he came to stand in front of you. The collar was fastened around your neck deftly, the leash allowed to hang loose and pool in your lap. He was more careful with the headband – meticulously lining it up with your ears, your face before sliding it into place with a satisfied hum. In a very distant, very muted way, you found that you were surprised less that your hitman-turned-kidnapper would have a pet play lair hidden away in some dark corner of his basement, and more that the aforementioned kidnapper would use that pet play lair to dress you up as a dog, rather than a cat. Illumi was as cat-like as a man could be – silent and skulking, prone to digging his claws into what he loved most – but the more you thought about it, the more sense it made. Cats were smart and sly and perfectly capable of surviving on their own, whereas dogs were stupid and clumsy and almost painfully reliant on their owners. People get cats because they want something that can choose to love them back. People get dogs because they want something that doesn’t have another choice.

“I--Illumi,” you managed, his name still awkward and bitter on your tongue. “I… I’m really sorry, and I’ve learned my lesson, and—”

One second, you were staring at his feet, and the next, your head was snapped to the side, a searing pain stitched deeply into your cheek. His open palm slipped downward, cupping your chin and tilting your head back, forcing you to face him properly. “Good pets don’t talk.” His tone was shockingly sweet, coercive, as if he was trying to explain something very simple to a very stupid child. “Good pets only follow commands. Can you do that for me, puppy?”

Tears were starting to gather in the corners of your eyes, a tight knot lodging itself at the base of your throat, but you did your best to keep both at bay. You started to nod, then thought better of it, straightening your back and squaring your shoulders, trying to communicate the only thing you could seem to think – please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me – without giving him a reason to land another blow. In the end, he rewarded you with the ghost of a smile, his free hand held in front of your mouth. “Good puppy. Now lick.”

You hesitated, but the steady ache pounding in your cheek was enough to make you swallow your pride. Your tongue darted out from between trembling lips, and with no small amount of trepidation, you lapped over the back of his closed fist. He let you begin to pull away before moving – before forcing two fingers into your open mouth and pressing the pads of his digits into the back of your throat. You gagged, your body instinctually recoiling, but he didn’t relent, his thumb digging into your jaw as he held you in place. Your hands shot to his thighs, the tears you’d forced back resurfacing and flooding down your cheeks, but he didn’t budge, didn’t pull away until you were gasping and breathless and utterly humiliated. Finally, he drew back, wiping his spit-soaked digits on your shoulder as his eyes moved from your open mouth to your hands, still balled around the fabric of his pants. “I have something upstairs for those,” he said, voice dripping with all the warmth and affection he usually denied you. “I’ll forgive you this time, puppy, but good pets shouldn’t be able to grab.”

He reached down, taking you by the leash. You were too detached to resist as he half-led, half-dragged you towards the crate. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from shaking your head, from stammering out little ‘no, no, no’s as his fist curled around your collar and forced you past the metal gate and into the confined space, suddenly so much smaller than it’d seemed from the outside. You had just enough time to scramble for the door before Illumi slammed it shut, letting the clasp fall into place and leaving you withering inside the makeshift cage. You couldn’t stop yourself – hands curling around the bars as you looked toward him with your most pleading expression, but Illumi only shook his head. “You don’t have to sulk. Maybe, with some time, we’ll be able to move your bed somewhere warmer.”

He paused, his grin widening into the first real smile you’d ever earned from him.

“After you’ve proved you can be a good dog, of course.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter imagines #hunter x hunter x reader #yandere hxh #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #yandere illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[crystaldivination]

𝐈’𝐌 𝐀 𝗕𝐀𝐃. 𝗕𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 🖤♠️🗝️♟️🕷️⛓️

"Boss bitch" - Doja Cat playing

"I’m a bitch, I’m a boss. I’m a bitch and a boss, I'ma shine like gloss."

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭

♥︎ ♥︎

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 · 𝐚 · 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 ♱ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬 ♱ 🚬

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: this is a general reading which may or may not resonate with you. Take what resonates and leave out anything that doesn't. Feel free to choose another pile if you'd like.

𝐎𝐍𝐄

sweeties you’re a force to be reckoned with! You don’t know challenges. You don’t know the word “STOP” — in fact, there’s no stop sign for you. Giving up is not an option for you. You know your strength and you persist. Once you laid your eyes on something or someone you want, the only thing that you can see is “i’m gonna get it” as if you’re the hunter who has found its prey. People are fearful of your drive, honey. You’re the definition and embodiment of -unstoppable-. A task too hard for you? —impossible. With that brain of yours, no one can outdo and that’s for a fact. Witty at the start and improvisation at play when necessary though nothing without a plan. Master at creativity. ideas that don’t seem to lack and a presence marked by charm enough to fascinate anyone. Visage looking fine as hell but on top of that ease is your second name. You never seem to stress ‘cause everything is just effortless for you. You’re a natural. Humble and unpretentious all the time yet not to be underestimated at all time. You never let them get a hold of you. Mind game on point while you just inevitably happen to unable to be read. so foolish of anyone to believe in the blank face you present ‘cause that poker face skills is not to be played with yet every time they get trapped by not able to learn from it. How come you make it so hard for anyone to know your next move without even intending to do so? maybe, it’s a talent. Quiet confidence and letting the result speak for itself might be the strategy. The secret to your power? —well after all, isn’t it obvious? Winning by being just oneself. No one is you and that’s your power. No one can even come near that. Uniqueness prevails. disrespect will be punished. You need to know your place!

bonita perra! 💸

𝐓𝐖𝐎

queens & kings, there’s not much to say if I’m being honest. Never have I seen so much calmness and control in someone like you. You won the idgaf game! All the inner knowing that everything will turn out in your favour anyway is hot. Your energy shows it all. You trust and believe in yourself like that’s the only thing you’ve ever known — you finessed it to say the least. Indeed it was you alone who has built yourself up to who you’re now, isn’t that true? you decided and did. Dropped all the bullshit to focus on you and what matters most to you. Your wisdom comes from letting go of what hurt you and the things that no longer serve you. You make yourself your top priority. Let go of the past and now you know that you’re that bitch who is not to be messed with. You didn’t cross over that bridge for nothing, I hear you. Self love so unbreakable no one can ever shake. Greatest asset your worth that’s expensive like diamonds. You make yourself shine like stars in the sky, your light would never ever able to go out. Life is what you make it and you made yours a paradise. No one dares and is able to disturb your peace ‘cause you’re out of reach. Not even a firestorm can sway or fade you. You’re in your own lanes moving without them knowing. Too swift to be able to be caught. Exclusivity at its finest. Mind blowing values that accompany and define you forever. This is someone who knows how to stand out from the crowd by doing NOTHING — absolutely nothing but to observe. You have the eyes that speak through the soul. No need to say thousand words and be loud. People get drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You enjoy the attention but know deep down nothing beats a golden heart.

hasta la vista, baby!🍸

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

fierce like a lion, sharp like a knife. Your words cut and sting but they are nothing but the truth. Independent since birth but that’s a given. You’re your own boss. You don’t give anyone the chance to play — not when it comes to you. You know what you want. You know how to get whatever that you yet want and still not have. You know your stand and you stand your ground —something that should be obvious but not always so evident in everyone. No fear is ever greater than your own. they say “no one is your enemy, you might be your own worst enemy” —and you know it but that doesn’t stop you from functioning at your greatest. why? because you know yourself best. You wouldn’t let yourself be your own enemy. you’ve worked on yourself relentlessly —for what it’s worth it seems like. you deserve the acknowledgment. pff as if you don’t know it. this is someone who is and acts proudly of themselves. rightfully so! you have every right to do that! always willing to learn more, never stop being curious. this is what you are. you want to be the best so you have to put in the work, darling. Hard work and hustle life is not a challenge for you. To reach the peak of the mountain is not a dream for you. You have big dreams and you won’t wait for it. You don’t sit around when you know you can climb. you’re nobody's baby and possess an individuality so strong it’s called impeccability. You do it yourself because you know you can master it yourself. An immaculate mind that can turn heads so why searching for ways to prove it or impress anyone when all you need to do is to do it for yourself, right? You don’t want to be king of the so called fixed “class”. You want to be yourself. Now your life can only get better but you’re not one to be satisfied easily so you keep moving until you realized every desires of yours. Feral is what you are and one of your trademark.

xoxo, badass 📞🖤

stay bad & on fleek, lil baddies !

—crystal

© 2023 crystaldivination ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. Plagiarism in any form is prohibited.

#crystaldivination #pac #pick a card #pick a card reading #pac reading #tarot community #tarotblr #tarot reading #intuitive readings #free readings #free tarot readings #free intuitive readings #pick a pile

[buckybabesonly]

An Experiment in Jealousy

Summary: You decided to try and make Bucky jealous. Now, you would pay the price.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: Self-indulgent porn without plot tbh, lol

Warnings: slightly rough sex, dirty talk, slight!daddy kink, unprotected sex

Length: 2k

Bucky was the first man to ever make love to you. And boy, did he do everything right. He loved to pepper kisses all over your skin, worship your body, whisper I love yous and I'm so lucky to have yous against your mouth as he thrust into you slowly every night, eyes locked with yours as you both reached your climax.

Sometimes, less often, he would fuck you. When you had a fight and the inevitable make-up sex happened, or when you were just in one of those moods and ripped off his clothes with such ferocity that he just knew what you wanted, or when you told him outright that you wanted it fast and hard instead of gentle and slow.

Tonight, you knew what you wanted. You wanted him to use you, to own you.

And so you had spent the whole night flirting with Steve, playing it in such a way that just about bordered platonic without being too outrageous, but just enough to get Bucky ticking. This, coupled with how you had absolutely iced your boyfriend out all night and instead spoken to Steve with laser focus, would absolutely get you what you wanted. You were certain of it.

You watched Bucky from the other end of the bar to discreetly observe his reactions, his leather-gloved hand wrapped around a beer bottle, the other one lifting up to brush against his lightly stubbled jaw as he observed you. He took a sip of beer, his eyes piercing, and you could tell he was gently seething.

You suppressed a smile. Jackpot.

Bucky all but slammed you against the door of your shared apartment as soon as you had closed it, pressing up against you firmly as you gasped at his sudden movement. His hands framed either side of your head, body trapping you in place as you stared up at his icy blue eyes.

"Is that how you want to play, doll?" he murmured, gritting his teeth as your chest heaved against his.

"Bucky, please," you whimpered, not even pretending to be coy. You knew that he knew exactly what you were playing at, and now it was time to cash in.

"Please, what?" Bucky all but snarled, cocking his head to the side as you blinked at him.

"I need it. Need you."

"So desperate for my cock, are you? You want me to fuck you like the slut you are?" Bucky asked, eyes flickering down to your mouth.

His words sent delicious chills down your spine, arousal shooting straight to your core. Your hands grasped his leather jacket, moving to peel it off, but his hands were lightning. They wrapped themselves around your wrists and held them back against the door with a gentle thwack.

"No," he said sternly. "You need to be punished."

Your pussy was practically dripping. You were so wet that you were almost convinced he would be able to smell your arousal soaking through your panties.

"How are you going to punish me, daddy?" you asked in a faux-nervous voice, feeling his hard-on through his jeans already, heavy against your inner thigh. You knew he liked it when you called him that.

"On your knees," he said in his deep, authoritative voice, eyes daring you to object. His tone was void of his usual gentleness. Tonight, he meant business.

You sank down to the floor as he worked at his belt, unfastening the piece of leather and letting it snake to the floor.

"Take it out," he instructed.

You reached out and unzipped his jeans obediently, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes. You touched his bulge over his boxers as he sucked in a ragged breath, unable to hide the effect you had on him despite himself.

Tugging down the waistband of his underwear, his cock sprung free, thick and heavy and red, the velvety head waiting to be sheathed inside your mouth.

"Suck it and make daddy feel good," he commanded, his fingers lacing themselves through your hair.

You didn't need to be told twice. You opened your mouth and wasted no time in swallowing up his cock, his length barely fitting inside your mouth, but you tried your best. You relished the taste of him, the slightly salty tang of his pre-cum, urging yourself to take him deeper and farther down your throat no matter how your gag-reflex protested at the intrusion.

Your eyes teared up as he began to gently fuck your mouth, his hands tugging on your hair without the actual force to hurt you, but encouraging you to take more and more of him into your mouth.

"There's a good girl," he grunted, head rolling back in pleasure as you served him, your mouth forming a suction around his fat cock, your tongue gliding up the length of his dick as you released him with a pop.

Your eyes were wet as you dived in again to taste him, so addictive, enough to make you feel so fucking horny.

For a good five minutes, the only sounds filling the room were his dirty praises and the gargle of you choking on his cock. Eventually you couldn't hold in your needy whines any longer.

"Please, can you put it inside me?" you begged.

"Mmm. I don't know if you deserve it."

Panic flashed briefly within you. Bucky had been known to deny you of release before when you had been particularly naughty, and you mewled in protest. You didn't want to be teased tonight.

"Please, I'll be good. Need you inside me. Don't you want to come inside my tight pussy?" You knew exactly what words would make him attack you hungrily like predator on prey.

Bucky snarled and bent down to grasp your upper arms, jerking you upright to your feet. He shucked off his jeans which were still pooled around his ankles and picked you up with ease, bridal style, taking you to the bedroom. He tossed you onto your bed like you weighed nothing.

He shrugged off his jacket and tore his shirt off so he was completely naked, his muscular chest and arms flexing as he undressed. You were still on your back as he crawled onto the bed, positioning himself on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. You watched as he hitched up the bottom of your dress so it rolled up to your waist, pulling down the neckline so your breasts fell out and presented themselves to him.

"You want this?" he asked, slapping his cock against your pussy through your panties. His hands reached down to grab your tits, squeezing roughly.

"Please, please, please," you chanted like a mantra, hands reaching out for him. You pushed your panties aside with one hand and took his cock in the other, urging him to go inside.

"Needy, aren't we?" Bucky chuckled, biting down on his lower lip. "Tell me what you want. Use your words, doll."

"I want your cock in my cunt," you said desperately, wanting - no, needing to be filled by him. "I want you to fuck me like the fuckdoll I am. I want you to cum inside me, please - Bucky!" You screamed out when he suddenly thrust inside you without warning, without letting you adjust as he entered you all at once.

He bottomed out with a groan, his cock stretching your tight hole.

"Oh god, Bucky," you moaned as he moved with ruthless speed, fucking in and out of your pussy with such force that your tits bounced with every movement. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he leaned down and kissed you angrily, tongue sliding into your mouth.

"This cunt is mine," he hissed, punctuating every word with a sharp jerk of his hips. "No one else. You belong to me. Say it."

"I - ah - belong to - ah - I belong you you, Bucky!" you whined, struggling to catch your breath. "Wait, not so fast, please," you moaned as he hit that spot deep inside your cervix with no mercy.

He didn't stop his pace, only moved to prop your legs up over his shoulders to allow him even better access to you, his cock seemingly sinking even deeper into you, in a way that felt impossible. You felt so full, so over-stimulated, you knew you wouldn't last long.

"Not so fast?" Bucky repeated with a humorless laugh, mocking you. "You wanted it to badly before, doll. I'm just giving it to you."

"Ah -Bucky - " tears of pleasure leaked from the corners of your eyes as you struggled to make a coherent sentence.

"Love how you're clenching around my cock. You were made to take my cock, to be filled up by me," Bucky said, the words making you wetter by the minute. "Gonna cum inside you, doll, gonna give you every last drop. Gonna remind you who you belong to. Gonna pound my cock into you until you beg me to stop."

"Daddy, please, cum inside me," you gasped. You could feel yourself reaching your orgasm, that feeling of pleasure creeping up slowly until you found yourself begging Bucky to keep going. "Please don't stop, don't stop, i'm almost there. Please keep fucking me, Bucky!"

A feral noise left Bucky's mouth as his cock continued to dive in and out of your sore pussy, never once faltering. You knew he could feel it when you clenched around him with a gasp, stars blinding your eyes as you came, his name falling off your tongue.

"Oh god," you gasped, heart beating rapidly as Bucky never stopped moving, smirking at your shaking form.

His hands reached down to flick at your clit as you squirmed, too sensitive.

"Bucky, no," you whined weakly, the pleasure too much for you as he continued to play with your pussy all the while his shaft disappeared into your cunt again and again, slick with your juices.

"You can do it one more time, doll, I know you can. Cum for daddy," Bucky grunted.

"Are you gonna cum inside me?" you asked as you felt the burning beginnings of another orgasm slowly stir inside you, biting on the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from screaming. Your hands made their way to Bucky's neck, pulling him down to kiss you again.

"You're my cumslut, aren't you?" Bucky asked, eyes boring into mine. "Or do you want me to cum on your tits? Your face?"

The image of him painting your face white with his semen was almost too much. Tempting, but you knew you wanted it all in you tonight.

"Inside," you requested, almost begging.

He grunted in acknowledgement, and you knew he was close as he continued to draw circles around your clit.

He sped up the pace, one hand reaching out to grab the headboard behind you, vibranium hand crushing the wood as his hips stuttered. He groaned loudly as he shot his seed inside you, unloading his cum inside your willing cunt.

"Fuck, doll, you feel so fucking good," he hissed.

It was your second undoing at the feeling of him filling you up, and you unraveled seconds after he did, tears streaming down your face at the absolute electric pleasure of it.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you sweating and panting, his lips burying themselves against your neck.

"God, that was fucking incredible," he said eventually, slightly out of breath. His cock was still inside your pussy, and you whimpered at the feeling of him sliding out of your hole as he softened, his cum following suit.

"You're leaking out of me," you sniffed in protest.

Bucky reached down to deftly slide three fingers into your used cunt, inciting a squeal from your lips, a teasing smile on his face as he lifted his head to look at you, challenging you.

His fingers fucked you, fucking his cum back inside, playing with it as you almost sobbed out loud at the feeling. Eventually he withdrew his hand and lifted his digits to your mouth, which you opened automatically.

You licked him clean, the taste of your combined fluids making you shiver with delight.

"Mmm, Bucky..."

You felt your eyes grow heavy as you finally came down from the high, but you could feel Bucky growing hard against you again, his hand pumping his cock to encourage it.

"Doll, we're not even nearly finished yet."

#bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes pwp #bucky pwp #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #daddy!bucky #bucky x you #bucky x you smut #mature

[mind-player]

Purge

Durge is beginning to wonder whether it matters if they make it to Bhaal's temple and if it would be better for the others if they didn't.

And Astarion, despite your constant protests, cannot helplessly stand by and watch as you pour out the contents of your stomach and then eventually all of your questioning thoughts along with it.

Warning! Suicidal thoughts/questioning

Words: 2,040

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Astarion was quick to wake from his trance just from the absence of your presence at his side. He felt the place with cold fingers, realizing the blankets still had some of your warmth. The fire everyone circled around in their bedrolls was freshly tended, alive again with a new log added to the flames. 

The vampire quietly got up to avoid disturbing the other companion's rest and began to sense where you might've run off. He strained his ears, and it didn't take long for him to pick up the sound of a specific someone retching in the distance of the forest. Astarion made haste, not wanting to let you suffer alone for a second. 

A selfish part of him wanted to tell you again that it was alright to snap him awake whenever this happened, but he was fast to conclude that the morning would have to do. As much as he's gently brought it up, he did also understand your discomfort at the thought of him seeing you throw up last night's dinner. 

But still, they were in this together, Bhaal be damned. And he knew you wouldn't hesitate to do the same for him. Hells, you've asked him for a kiss even when he was covered in blood and viscera, his hair more than just slightly askew, and his face sore with cuts and bruises. Sure, he couldn't look into a mirror, but he could still feel that the grime and exhaustion were evident to anyone at camp.

Didn't matter to you, though. You would call Astarion beautiful every time, and he'd readily call you a liar. And you'd say with a smile as golden as your heart, "Prove it." 

He never could. 

Astarion finally came upon the vision of you keeling over on your knees. Your hand was your only leaning support, pale and clammy from the night's cold on a tree stump. The only contrast was the red and scabbing marks around your wrist from being tied up every other night. 

"Don't look," you croaked, your voice hoarse and tired, ready to deny his help. 

It was rare that you would let yourself sleep sometimes, especially after what happened to that poor bard you so eagerly let join camp without even a hint of suspicion on your mind. Astarion was irritated by your being so open and careless, and all you had to say was that you missed the sound of a bard's music. 

And you were punished for it. 

Astarion remembered the last day you would ever trust your body around anyone. Not even your thoughts were safe in your mind, for fear of them crawling out and unleashing murder upon your companions and, God's forbid, on Astarion. Even the idea of that happening made you ill, but your mind would force you to see it in your dreams, and your slinking Bhaal butler would provoke the strength of your will.

It was only inevitable and natural that you'd be sick to your stomach with all that on your shoulders, your mind. 

"You think this is the worst I've witnessed in my two hundred years?" the elf questioned, and he chose not to move forward, not without further consent. 

"No," you answered truthfully, letting your hand slide down the rough bark for you to fall back on the balls of your feet. 

"Then please let me help you." 

"I," you started, taking a shaky breath. "I don't think you can." 

Astarion could tell from your voice alone you were on the brink of tears. And as much as the vampire just wanted to take all of that pain away and rip it to nothing but shreds, kill any God that causes it, and ascend himself victorious so that it could never happen again, he couldn't. Not yet. He remained where he stood. 

"What do you mean, my love?" he questioned softly when you didn't continue. He could always be sincere with you when you so effortlessly were, especially in such moments. 

"I just hate this," you responded, nearly crying aloud. "I know you said we can fight this together. And I want to. Gods, I want to. But sometimes, I just wish my mind would stop for a second. Just to let me be me around you. The me that you know and the one I want to be. But I don't think I ever will." 

He didn't say anything, letting you say what he couldn't bear. 

"I'm going to die," you whispered, giving out and leaning onto your side. "And if my body doesn't, I know whoever was on this journey with you definitely will. So what does it matter if it all just stops now?"

Astarion almost couldn't believe his ears. Such a dreadful question slipped through the lips of an angel who soothed everyone's worries and selflessly promised devotion to countless others regardless of their own self-preservation. 

Some say vampires are unfeeling creatures with no heart, none that craves to beat for anything other than the thrill of power. But, of course, if anyone ever proved them wrong, it was you. 

And if there was anyone to tell Astarion he was worth more than his looks, his body, and his charm, that he was a person just like everyone else who could be valued, trusted, and loved so readily, it was most certainly you. You were the only one to give him even the slightest hope of defeating someone he had revolved around for two centuries. You were the only one to tell him he could finally stop surviving and start living. 

You were the hope of every tiefling, your companions, and him. Hearing you, seeing you finally break, was enough to bring him to his knees, and the thought of genuinely losing you made his heart fall. But not for one second was this only about him. 

A silence fell over the two of you until he finally gathered his words. 

"When I discovered you, I remember being so furious. After all, how could there be people like you out here all this time? Just waiting to save someone's life, end their torment, their worries," he tried to explain without his voice trembling. 

"You were so naive yet so relentlessly kind, constantly worrying about right and wrong, weighing every decision and then being the one to bear the consequences of them, all on your shoulders. And not once did you expect anything in return from anyone.

"So, please, consider when I hear you ask if it matters if you keep existing in this world, even if it's for a moment longer, that it does. Gods, it does. It's indisputable. Because this world is already so starved of people like you," he said, his chest aching with every word. 

Hot tears threatened to well in his eyes, tears he hadn't known since he was still in that wretched dungeon being tortured alive. 

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about you being lost forever compared to so many other evils they've slain along their journey. There were so many in this world who no one would miss, who no one would even consider a moment to remember, and Astarion thought that, with all his faults, he might as well have been on that list, too. 

But everyone would most certainly miss you. Probably would throw thousands of flowers on your grave each year, speak exciting stories of your adventures with all you've done, put up a statue of you, and honor you for centuries to come. 

He would so desperately miss you. When the others finally abandoned him and left him to his own devices or back with Cazador, he would have forgotten how to love again, knowing that you were the only one he could care for. 

Astarion watched as the hand that supported you on the ground clenched, intertwining your calloused fingers into the grass. You turned your body to finally face him, shining tears from the firelight staining your cheeks. 

And all of that and everything else he could've said to convince you otherwise must've been conveyed in just one look because he was finally seeing you. Your sweat-damp brow was furrowed in pain, your white-knuckled grip released the delicate blades of grass, and all your pain from your stomach to your head and mind was brewing behind your reddened eyes. Tired eyes. 

"I'm sorry," you eventually cried with shoulders quivering, and it was all Astarion needed to come crawling over to hold you in his arms. "I didn't– I shouldn't have–"

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all," Astarion vehemently told you, shaking his head. "Everything that's been asked of you forced onto you, would test anyone." 

You wept, sniffled, and apologized, and the cycle repeated, but Astarion never once ran out of quiet, comforting whispers. 

It continued until it eventually came to a slow end, with you resting your head on his shoulder and his hand rubbing against yours. Your legs were numb from how long you both had sat there in that forest and if you could feel, maybe even a little cold- not because of Astarion. Never because of him. 

While basking in the comfortable silence that befell both of you, you still couldn't help but sigh and shake your head. 

"What is it, my love?" he asked so gently as if the words alone would make you fall apart again. You never hated yourself more for dumping your doubts, worries, and dreads on him. 

"It's stupid," you said, actually meaning that you were stupid in a sense. 

"Try me."

You hid your face further into the crook of his shoulder, feeling that familiar warmth spread across your cheeks. 

"I just remembered how much I didn't want you to ever see me throw up... and you get something ten times worse."

Astarion laughed and said, "Compared to the monstrous atrocities we've seen throughout this journey, this is more akin to sunshine and a bed of fresh roses. I don't mind."

"Really?" 

"Yes."

You squinted in suspicion at him and persisted, "Not even a little?" 

Astarion quirked a brow. 

"Well, I could do without the snot on the only shirt I possess," he joked, earning that gorgeous smile he missed so dearly, "but if it means you're still here, together with me, then no, I genuinely don't mind. I'm not going anywhere." 

The latter part of his words sounded so irrefutable and clear to your ears that you almost forgot everything ahead. 

"Even if I turn into a monster?" you asked him.

"The day you turn into a monster is the day that bears will fly," he answered, silently thinking about how different you were compared to him. "But if that still somehow manages to happen, then what's the harm of being monsters together?" 

"That'd be so terrible," you told him, shaking your head with a smile. 

This was nice. Your dark thoughts were quelled and momentarily replaced with the idea of you and Astarion, the future you two could have if you somehow managed to live through all this. What would it be like, you wondered. 

You imagined a house somewhere in the city, perhaps a townhouse. You'd both live messily; all the treasures you hoarded over this journey would be scattered everywhere when first moving in. Curtains would be closed, but you'd like to imagine them open with a smiling Astarion basking like a cat in the sun he adored. 

Alive again. With your love's heart beating so strongly with your ear pressed up against his naked chest as you both lounge in bed, doing nothing in particular. 

Then it crossed your silly mind that you wanted that. You wanted to see that someday, even if it might not have been in the cards for you. But when have the chances ever not been slim? And how many times did you beat them until now? 

That future, that hope, was enough to fight for. 

That acquainted quiet settled once more before you finally whispered a vow only to him, "I'll defy him. Whatever it takes." 

Even if it meant dying. 

"As will I," he answered, and you knew who he spoke of. One day, both of you might be free- truly free. 

#astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #astarion x dark urge #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 durge #bg3 dark urge #bg3 #dark urge tav #fanfiction #fanfic #comfort #tav #durge

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part I

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Summary: Y/N kept being reincarnated into the world for seemingly endless of lifetimes with the lasting, vivid memories of her past lover during the 40's, Sargent James B. Barnes. While she thought this was a 'punishment' for her sins, she was also unknowingly oblivious to the fact that James was still alive somewhere, almost forever frozen in the time.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.5k++ (hella long bc lots to cover in the story building part)

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just slow induced angst for your daily consumption (i guess?) It has a hopeful ending so don't let the first warning chase you away. reincarnation concept. an attempt to follow exact mcu timeline (forgive if i'm wrong at certain parts). slight religious contents. grief & loss. graphic violence. deaths. mention of suicide. a lot of reader's pov, story building > dialogs (sorry guys).

P/S: Another impulsive writing from me y'all. I hope you don't get bored of this tendency of mine lol. I just need to let the fantasies out before it consumes me. So... anyway, it's gonna be another 3 parts fic cause for the love of god, I cannot commit for more :') Also, my first attempt of writing 40's bucky!!! I'm honestly scared. I hope you like it!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Italy, 1943 – His return

If it was one thing that Bucky should expect when he decided to be in a relationship with Y/N was that he had to accept her for who she was; stubborn, clumsy, bold, clever, sweet and most certainly the prettiest dame he ever met.

He might have unknowingly signed up for it the moment he quite literally fell for her at one of those Stark's science expo. Bucky had been stealing glances at this one pretty lady in the crowd, adored in soft mint dress that falls right below her knees.

It wasn't even a scandalous dress to wear in public but somehow Bucky was more than ecstatic to marvel at her beauty. There was no such thing as a too long of a stare, especially when she laughed like that; throwing her head in amusement, the loose strands of her curls fall back across her shoulders as they slightly shook to the rhythm of her laughter.

A careless misstep, that Bucky could see from a mile away, had caused her to stagger backwards and twisted her ankle into an inevitable fall. Somehow, Bucky managed to slither his way through the crowd towards her, almost jumping forward to catch her before she landed on the ground.

Not only that he was the one who fell first, but he also fell hard.

So, it was expected that Bucky knew what he had got himself into. At least, that was what Y/N had been repeating in her head to convince herself for what she had done. Now that she was sitting at the back of the wobbly military truck, the fear had slowly started to seep into her, causing shivers to crawl all over her nerves.

Y/N just knew it in her guts that Bucky would be absolutely furious when he sees her but what does he expect her to do when she hadn't receive any letters from him for months now. So, when she heard that they needed more medical helpers at the Italy base, she signed up without thinking twice about it.

"There has been a recent attack on the 107th. Too many casualties and much more whose heavily injured. You might have your hands full the moment you arrive to the base. There are few rules..." The lieutenant's voice was rigid just as his demenour when he continued to inform the situation to the troops of medical staff.

No matter how much she wanted to pay attention to his words, Y/N couldn't help but to tune in only at his first few sentences. Casualties, heavily injured. Her hands moved to search for the cross pendent hanging from the necklace around her collarbone, gripping it tight as she prayed that her lover was not categorized under any of those dire circumstances.

What the lieutenant said in that truck could never be more true as the moment they stepped into the medic tent, Y/N and the others were quickly pulled to assist the fallen men. It was truly heartbreaking and horrid to witness the dreading truth behind what the public posed as the "heros of the country'.

Surely they were proud to fight for the nation but then again no human being should ever had to suffer the consequences of war; not the civilians and certainly not the soldiers.

After seemingly hours of continuous stitching, wrapping and patching up; surrounded sound of groaning pain and the endless cycle of inhaling the distinct scent of fresh blood, burned flesh and the bitter of anticeptic odor; the injured soldiers were finally taken care of and had been put to rest.

Y/N looked around the tent, noting the unorganized mess around the patients; the result of the panic and chaos of the whole situation. A thought came to her mind, she might need to do some cleaning up before writing down medical record for each one of the patients.

That was when the lieutenant entered into the tent, and his stern gaze swiftly analyzed the much calmer scene, "Thank you for your service, everybody. I assume the soldiers are stabilized?"

"Yes, sir." One of the battalion doctor replied as he approached, while the rest of the team watched from where they stood.

The lieutenant simply nodded, "Good." He paused for awhile and looked around,  "Now, have any of you met Captain America before?"

There were bunch of no's murmured around the medical staff, some of them just shook their head as an answer and the lieutenant nodded again as he informed, "Well, I guess you are all just darn lucky cause he's here to perform. You are invited to come and join the others to watch, if you want to."

"Steve's here?" She thought to herself.

As the lieutenant continued to explain some things about accommodation, food and medical supplies, Y/N's head were filled with thought that her dear friend, Steve was there too.

"I wonder if he gotten any words from James."

"Maybe he got letters from him?"

"Or could it be that he was here to find James too?

There were so many questions kept circulating in her head that by the time she snapped out of them, the lieutenant was already long gone and some of the medic staff went out to untangle themselves from the hours of stressful tension.

As a nurse herself, she felt the need to take care of her patients and finish her job before anything else. So, she started to clean up the shredded clothes, bloodied guazes and the other medical tools that needed to be sterilized and put away.

By the time she finished, it finally dawned to her that there was no trace of Bucky in the medic tent. Which means he didn't fall into the heavily injured category. So, there was two left; the one she prayed for and the other that dreaded her to even think about.

Y/N quickly made her way towards the tent where she can find the soldier in charge. However, if she was focused during one of the lieutenant's speech in the truck, she would've heard that she and the others were not authorized to enter certain parts of the base, which include the higher ups' tents.

When she was turned down by the soldiers, she sadly walked away towards the main area where Steve was supposed to perform. The drag of her feet across the dusty sand was heavy but no more heavier than the burden in her heart.

She watched as her black pump shoes gradually covered with light sand. Finding it odd that a few weeks ago she was standing on the shiny tile of a hospital in Brooklyn and now she was halfway across the world in the middle of the chaos of a war.

The things she'd do for love.

Soon enough, the dry ground was wet from the sudden down pour, turning it into a murky soggy path. Y/N quickly ran towards the main area where apparently the show was long over. "Did I missed Steve?" She thought as she stepped into the tent where the performers supposed to be.

The tent turned out to be empty and only the sound of drizzling raindrops above it was left behind. She looked around the area and saw the costumes for the performers were still there; the pleated white and red skirt hanging on the rack, white gloves clipped with them, the captain's shield with notes sticking at the back of it and the iconic blue helmet-mask thingy plastered with the obvious letter.

She peeked a little to the right only to see Steve hunched down on the floor, curling into himself just as he always did back when he was left beaten up in the alleyway somewhere in Brooklyn. She guessed that the upgrade of his size doesn't really change his habits.

Y/N walked closer to see him holding his sketchbook on one hand and another was a pencil pressing across the paper, lining the drawing of a monkey on a unicycle. "I guess the serum does not amplify your art skills huh Steve?" she teased as she approached the blonde man.

Steve lifted up his head as he turned towards the familiar voice, "y/n?" His face lit up as he recognized her face. He stood on his feet and pulled her into a tight hug, "It's so good to see you." He sighed, he haven't seen her since his departure when she insisted for him to stay.

But alas, Steve was also as stubborn as her.

It took awhile for him to process it but when it came to him, he gently pushed her away, "Wait.. what are you doing here?" His brows creased into a worried frown.

Y/N simply smiled as she responded, "They needed help, so I volueentered."

Steve shook his head in disbelief, "Bucky made me promise not to let you do stuff like this." In which Y/N countered, "And he also remind you not to do anything stupid until he get back so..." she purposely trailed her words for him to draw the conclusion on his own.

He let out a long sighed before concluding, "Bucky's gonna kill us."

Since, Bucky was in the topic, Y/N took the oppurtunity to asked Steve about him, "About that, have you heard--"

A woman's voice came from her back, cutting in between her words, "Steve?"

Steve nervously untangled himself from Y/N as he shyly greeted the woman, "Hi."

The woman continued to stare at Y/N trying to figure out her role and relationship with Steve but before she could get any strange idea, he quickly introduced her, "This is y/n. She's my good friend from home."

A spark of realization glint through her eyes "I see. I'm Peggy. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand towards Y/N, in which Y/N gladly shook it in hers as she reintroduced herself, "You too. I'm y/n."

After the brief exchange of smile between the two ladies, Steve continued to asked Peggy, "What are you doing here?"

Peggy sighed as she explained, "Officially, I'm not here at all." She paused as she picked her words, "I just came by to oversee the situation after the recent attack."

Although Y/N knew what Peggy meant, she was one of the medic staff that had been stitching up the aftermath of that attack after all. However, Steve on the other hand seemed to be lost.

Peggy further explained, "Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano, more than 200 men went up against him and less than 50 returned." She paused, "Your audience contained what's left of the 107th."

Steve's blues widen in realization that almost looked much like panic, "The 107th?"

"What?" Peggy prompt quickly.

Steve then turned his head to Y/N, "Bucky?" He questioned shortly.

But even she was hoping that he'll know something about Bucky, apparently she was wrong, "I tried to ask but I'm not authorized to enter the tent. I was hoping you heard from him."

Seeing the panic in Steve's eyes, she knew that her lover was no where near the safety that she prayed for. But before fear could set in, Steve sprinted out of the tent, "Come on!" he shouted as Y/N and Peggy ran closely behind him.

When they arrived to the tent, fortunately they had the permission to enter with the help of Peggy. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?" Colonel Philips greeted in a teasing manner.

Steve didn't even bother to greet the colonel as he demanded, "I need the casualty list from Azzano." In which the Philips responded, "You don't get to give me orders, son."

Knowing that arguments won't help the situation, he control his tone of voice and spoke, "I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th." He took a short breath and insisted, "Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

Colonel Phillips stood on his feet as he walked towards a table behind him, "I can spell. I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count." He paused before turning around to eye on Steve and briefly on the very worried looking nurse next to him.

"But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." There was a flash of sincerity in his eyes when he looked towards Y/N.

The optimistic Steve continued to insist more about other possibilities than casualties, "What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" They went back and forth about the what is the 'right' thing to do, "Yes, it's called 'winning the war'. "

And suddenly sound of the heavy rain fall was all Y/N could hear, then comes the booming of her heartbeat as the panic started to deprive her of any optimism, clouding her judgment to think of anything near to positive outcomes such as Steve.

It was getting harder to breath and the anxitey slowly choked her, forcing tears to pool in her eyes. Peggy swiftly took a hold on Y/N, before her knees managed to fall to the ground. The muffled sound of Peggy's voice managed to come through but not enough to wake her from the despair.

Before she knew it, Steve was already gone for an unauthorized rescue mission with the help from Peggy. And ever since, Y/N had spend every waking moment digging her knees into the uneven ground. Her elbows bruised from how hard she propped them on the steel edge of the army green cot. Her palms almost dented to shape of the silver cross as she desperately squeeze it between her hold.

She prayed and prayed for his return. For both of her dearest to be safe, to find their way home.

And for a moment Y/N thought her prayers were graciously granted by God, as the crowd was getter louder and the circle of soldiers were geting thicker when the survivors joined the rest of them. There were chantings of "Captain America" that echoed throughout the base and that gave her relief to know that Steve was safe.

But it was not enough to tame her anxiousness. Y/N's focus has never been sharper when her eyes scanned the crowd, she slithered her way between the jumping joy of the soldiers, grabbing onto some men who she mistook as Bucky until she saw him.

Her heartbeat ramped increasingly as she pushed through the soldiers, finding strength from the blood pumping excitement when she recognize those steel blues and that cheeky smile. Not long before she managed to grab onto his hand and pulled his attention to her.

It was brief but he knew that face anywhere; and suddenly his whole body was engulf into a familiar tight hug that he thought he could never be able to feel again. "James." her voice still stuttered even if it was just one word that came out of her lips.

"y/n?" Bucky called her name, almost in disbelief.

God, she never knew that she was able to miss his voice this much.

"Doll, what you doing here?" He gently lead her away, which she reluctantly followed, "I'm here for you." There was no need of lies now that Bucky was here in her arms.

His gaze soften with a mix of concern and joy, "What do you mean you're here for me?" Bucky couldn't help but to let out a short laugh, "Sweetheart, you do realized that you're in the middle of a war?" His brows quirked as he reminded.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course, she realized that. The moment she saw that form for enlistment, she knew. But, it didn't stop her to sign up, does it?

She laced her fingers into his, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James." she whispered as she leaned closer, "So, please just shut up and kiss me."

Bucky might have just realized it now; what a stubborn, demanding, crazy little lover got himself. Though at the same time, she had never charmed him more.

Bucky sighed in defeat before running his tongue on his lower lip, "Well then, come here you little minx" he took her by the head and gave her the most desperate yet sweetest kiss she could never forget.

Brooklyn, 1944 – Promises, promises

It was the day that Steve, Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos were depolying to the Austrian Alps for one of the biggest mission since Captain's impulsive rescue mission in Italy last year.

Apparently, Zola was on the move and predicted to be passing though the location while travelling on a train.

This wasn't the first time she had sent Bucky away, but the fear of each always felt like it was her first; especially when she thought about the promise of death that's chained to a soldier's fate.

The closer the time of departure, the stronger her grip on Bucky's uniform becomes. And Bucky didn't need to say anything because he knows her too well; she won't take any of his sweet words as a cure for her distress.

Bucky slowly swayed her from side to side as their embrace tightens with need; her face hidden in the crook of his neck while his arms secured around her waist. He had to smile as it reminded him of their late night dance, barefoot on the kitchen floor of his apartment.

He could feel the teasing gaze coming from his back as well as the whistles of the Howling Commandos playfully making fun of him. Bucky was also well aware of the fact that everyone had made theirs bets on when will the Sargent James B. Barnes finally get down on his knees for his little nightingale of a nurse.

Unsurprisingly, Steve might just win the bet afterall. That punk just had know everything about him.

Y/N closer snuggled into him one last time, "Come home to me, James." She whispered against his skin before pulling away. Teary eyes threatened to spill its salty liquid as she looked up at him, "Promise me."

Bucky's charming smile lighten his features as he leaned to press a kiss in her forehead, "I promise."

Brooklyn, 1945 – Loved and lost

Months gone by, entered the new year, and it always felt like eternity for Y/N. She spent nights kneeling next to her bed and days on the church's floor; practically begging to God for the life of her lover, for keeping him away from death.

And the letters from Bucky also come and goes within those few months' time, with his promises of coming home that's laced in the words of his longing and love for her.

But, little did she knew, that promise met it's end of the bargain when the dreaded letter came to her hands. It came from the man she met back in Italy base, Colonel Phillips, sending the words of condolences for the death Sargent James B. Barnes during his honourable mission at the Austrian Alps.

But the first time she read to words, it didn't even register in her head. It was as if her brain failed to translate the message for her to understand. Y/N had been re-reading the same lines over and over and over until it finally clicked.

The usually bright eyes of hers were now slowly filled with tears, she was in the state of shock; that even if her brain knew exactly what had happened but her heart wasn't ready for it. 

The tears started to fall down onto the letter. Drip by drip. And all of the sudden she lost every word that she could ever think of. Her silent scream; suffocating her with each breath she took desperately gripping onto the fragile piece of paper, holding it to her chest hold as if that would help to ease the pain in her heart.

Y/N could feel it in her ripping guts. How all the threads of every joyful memories she could ever once recall; they  unraveled in a way that broke her to pieces until they were all but a rumpled of strings scattered about her feet.

A sharp fall had forced Y/N down to her knees, skin digging into the hard floor as her hands trembled silently, clutching onto the letter.

At first when she opened her mouth, there was not a single sound came out as her breath ripped from her lungs. Each left her with scars of loss and every waking minute in this reality was just pure pain.

Her body bend forward until her forehead meets the floor, that was when she wailed; an agonizing scream that left a haunting memory to the neighbours around her apartment.

She cried like there was too much raw pain inside that she could never contained. She cried like her soul needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release a loathful rage on the world. 

But it was more than just crying, it was the sobbing of a woman that drained of all hope. She sank on floor, willing herself to be swallowed by the dread and loss. Just screaming out the agonies that been dancing across her vulnerable veins. 

Her chest violently quivered as she was desperately trying to catch the air. She collected every last energy that she had to call out the name of the lover she had loss, "James.." Her gasping breath whispered against the floor, "You promised." 

A month later the nation celebrate to the announcement to the end of a war, but to Y/N it was just another wave of mourning grief to a loss of another precious person in her life; Steve.

Amidst the loud sound of cheering and laughter, she rushed away from the crowd to the place that she had put all her faith into. Stumbling through the empty church and falling at the feet of Jesus' statue, Y/N looked up at the face if God with loath, rage, despair, and tears.

The night was brighten to the flashing light from the firework but all she could think of was how similar the sound of it to a firing canon in the war. And the thought of Bucky and Steve run through her mind.

She had been nothing but faithful to the lord, religiously prayed for no more than saving the life of people she held dear to her heart.

But, God thought it would be merciful to let them die.

Y/N harshly ripped the cross necklace from her neck, tearing her skin apart in the process. She gripped on the cross in her hands, much like she would few month back but for completely different reason.

The crimson of her blood tainted her white collar of her nurse uniform as she she cursed the all mighty God for what he had done. Ever since, she swore to herself to never be naive to the illusion of God's mercy ever again.

Washington D.C., 2014 – An old friend

Fate is full with irony and God has his way of twisting them for his own pleasure.

When Y/N died in the 60's, old and unmarried, even if she doesn't believe in God anymore, her dying wish was to be able to meet her lover and friend again.

At least one more time.

But lo and be hold, God had different plans for her. Y/N's body did die that night on the hospital bed but her soul never did. It was as if she was woken up from sleep in another body with the same face as her, that's when she realized she has been reincarnated.

Apparently, she was only born in the same family lineage as her original life; whether coming from her younger brother or cousin or anyone related back to her bloodline. And sharing even the tiniest amount of blood of her own, triggers every single memory from her previous life.

This wasn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to live knowing she cannot be with Bucky.

So on the 2nd life, she did the unthinkable. She took her own life, thinking that she would finally leave the world behind but she didn't.

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

So, when she reached her 6th life, she realized that she will never able to meet James and Steve ever again; that was when she went rogue.

Her 6th life was filled with rage and vengeance that she took the idea of life very lightly. So, instead of living until the old days, she searched for revenge and got herself tragically killed in the process.

Now, the 18 year old Y/N was in her 7th life, with a new name that was given by her 7th parents, "Evelyn" , and the spitting image of her 1st life. From her dark raven hair to the light brown of her eyes. This time, she decided to try to accept the cruel fate; the cursed that God had placed on her for the sin that she made decades ago.

Y/N walked around the Smithsomian Museum, specifically at the American history section where they put up Captain America's exhibit. It's been how many lifetimes since she surround herself with knowledge of a past that she once lived.

This was the first time, since her first life. And most probably the last time since she was going overseas in a week to continue her studies in Asia.

She walked along the line up display of the Howling Commandos suits, remembering the living flesh of them as she took steps forward to each, stopping in front of Bucky's.

Flashes of him appeared to where the figure stood; the memories was so vivid that she could still feel fabric of his suit against her, the electrifying feeling on his skin on her own.

She ripped her gaze away just to be greeted by the portrait of Bucky, plastered so hugely on the memorial of one of the Howling Commandos section. Despite the cracking of her heart, her body move on its own; as they knew that deep down, Y/N's heart will always be yearning for her lover.

Her gaze soften with longing and nostalgic as she slowly blink at his features. His considerably messy hair, that little frown that he does to act mysterious for the ladies, and the thin layer of beard that she loved to leave her lipstick marks on.

Y/N's daydream were cut short when someone pulled her by the arm, startling her into a defensive mode. Her 6th life's habit almost broke through when she nearly flipped the man on the floor but thankfully she stopped herself as she recognized those blue eyes.

The man's face looked pale like he had seen a ghost, as he uttered a name that she haven't heard for decades, "y/n?"

"Steve..." she called his name wordlessly.

She knew he was alive. Everybody does, when the news came out in 2011, she was merely a 15 year old kid back then. Apparently, the super soldier serum helped him to survive the ice.

She remembered how her parents rushed to her room when they heard the sudden cluttering sounds of panic upstairs, only to find their daughter on the floor looking pale while her cup of iced coffee spilling in all over her study desk as the viral youtube video of Captain America running through New York city barefoot.

She remembered the feeling of both disbelief and joy that rushed through body as her parents helped her to sit up on her bed. The moment that it sunk into her head, she began to cry. Streams of joyful tears broke from her shaky body, each drop washed the painful burden in her heart as her parents lulled her to sleep.

Y/N never made an effort to meet him after knowing truth because who would've believe her words?

She wasn't Steve. There wasn't any super soldier serum in her blood. There wasn't any tank of chemical that drown her with power.

She was cursed and now she had to live with it.

Meanwhile, Steve seemed to be trapped in a spiralling confusion of his own. He examined each of her features and he had not a single doubt that she has the same face to an old friend in the 40's.

The same friend that he knew died of old age in the 60's.

But, how come the person managed to have the exact same face to hers. Now that he looked closer, she was younger than the last time he saw Y/N. She looked like she was in her teens, "Are you really y/n?" His voice was soft as he muttered.

Y/N bit the insides of her cheeks, holding back the urge of telling him the truth, "Sorry, I think you got the wrong person." she tried to untangle his grasp around the thin of her arm.

Even her voice was similar to Y/N, and she was looking at Bucky's photo like she knew him.

How could she say that she's was not Y/N?

Steve reluctantly let go of her arms and took a step away after seeing the distress on her face, "I-I'm sorry. You remind me of someone I know." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was just too similar looking to someone precious that he left behind.

"It's okay, sir." She smiled gently, like the way she usually does when Steve apologizes for his impulsiveness of picking a fight in alleyways. She looked up to the taller man as she continued, "Thank you for being alive..." she hesitated to call him by his name so instead she called for his other name, "...Captain."

She thanked him sincerely before walking away, leaving Steve to reminisce the memories of his life with Y/N and Bucky as he stared at Bucky's memorial.

The next week, she left the United States for Asia where she planned to spend 4 years studying at the National University of Singapore, leaving her past behind in hopes of moving forward with her life, refusing to care about the avengers shenanigans anymore, including her dear friend, Steve.

New York, 2018 – New norms

When half of the population was wiped out from the earth, two of them was Y/N's parents. And like every other people who had lost their loved ones during the blip, her parents sudden absence truly take a toll on her, especially when she was planning to live a long life with them.

After graduating and getting a decent job in Singapore, she was forced to go back to New York when it happened. Y/N couldn't just let her childhood house left abandoned, she simply can't let that happen.

You would thought a person who had multiple lifetimes would be used to losing someone they love but no. It only gets worst as the years go by.

The more Y/N tried to fit into the new norms, the more that she could feel herself slipping into old habits of her 6th life.

Until that one drunken night when she visited the Smithsomian Museum again after years of forcing herself to forget about him; it took her one look at the potrait of Bucky, she knew what she had to do.

Germany, 2023 – An old nemesis

Nearly 5 years into the blip and Y/N was already becoming a legend in the underground scene. They called her the Deathstalker. She never really knew the origin of it but nevertheless she chooses to stick with the newly founded identity.

With the skills she picked up on her 6th life, she easily became the most deadly assassin in the business, seemingly in a constant competition of reputation with the highly popular, black widow assassins.

Though she couldn't care less about who was winning the battle, she only cares about tracking anything or anyone related to Hydra.

After that fateful night at the museum, she couldn't to think that this must be her calling.

If the curse made her technically immortal, then why not became the hunter destined to slay the monster. They said that Hydra will never die, but so was she. And if anything good came out from this curse, then she might as well use it to avenge Bucky.

And bring the old nemesis to the ground.

Her 6th life was similar to this but she wasn't going to make the same mistake. The flaming greed to have her revenge was too strong back then, it lead her to be hasty and clumsy, which then let her to an early death.

But, she's grown out of those immaturity.

Nowadays, she takes her time and still get the job done flawlessly. Just like she is now, when the soft but dark sound of her chuckle, interrupted the silence that had claimed the room.

The poor man was sitting limp on the chair with his body tied with it. He had been like this for seemingly hours with a knife in one of his thighs, which trembled with the vibrations of his body.

More so, when Y/N twisted them, causing a keen of pain to clawed up his throat and spilled out a hoarse groan.

"Where is it?" Her fingers wrapped around the handle, as she watched the man tossed his head, more with fear than trying to answer.

"I don't like to repeat myself." Y/N slid the blade free, causing a noise he would not forget. The man sagged against his bonds, panting as he watched the blood surged and dribbled out of the wound.

But then he felt the prick against his other leg, wide eyes turning to watch as the knife was held above his skin, Y/N's hand flat against the top, ready to push in. "Where the fuck is it?" her tone was eerie as the voice changer in her mask produced an emotionless robotic effect on it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The thick german accent seethed through his voice as he grunted in pain.

There was only boredom in Y/N's eyes as she gazes straight into his. A stab of the knife went through his thigh without a warning, until the tip of it almost met the flat surface of the chair beneath it.

The whole room echoed with the sound of the whimpering and cries of his struggle, "Please, I swear to God I don't know what you're talking about." He pleaded as fast as he can, when he felt the shortage of breaths in his lungs due to dealing with the excruciating pain.

"Playing dumb isn't going to help you, mutt." She twisted the knife, pulled out and stabbed it again causing him to fall into an almost delirious state, "Please, please please, I swear I don't know anything about the serum." He blurted out of misery.

There it was.

The thing she wanted to hear.

Y/N's eyebrow quirked in interest, "I never mentioned the serum in our conversation, no?"

He fucked up.

He knew that he fucked up.

But, does it matter when his body was searing in pain?

By the end of the intense interrogation, Y/N finally got the intel she needed to find and destroy whatever was left behind by Wilfred Nagel, who was recruited by the CIA to recreate the super soldier serum.

Those greedy fuckers just cannot stay away from things that shouldn't be meddled with. Even Y/N could see the potential threats of a successful recreation the super soldier serum; they were practically asking for Hydra to revive to its glory days.

And she would not allow that to happen.

She needed to destroy it before its finished.

A loud wail left the man's lips, almost sounded a little strained as he had been screaming in pain for hours. Y/N mercilessly grabbed him by his sweaty chin as she pried his mouth open. Knowing exactly what was coming, the man begged, "Oh lord, please please help me please."

Leaning closer she coldly spoke, "The gods doesn't care about you. Trust me I've been there." With a swift strike, she forced her knife down his throat, and a splash of red tainted her mask, nearly got into her eyes but she managed to blink before it does.

She stood still as she watched him gurgle on his own blood as death collected his soul. Wiping the blood away from her eyelid, she walked out of the abandoned building with a mission to finish; all the while blissfully oblivious to the war that the avengers were fighting to their death on the other side of the world.

Madripoor, 2024 – The most prized asset

The returned of her parents were as sudden as the lost. Though she was glad that they were back, however she had to live a double life now that they kept asking about her job and personal life as they wanted to catch up for the lost of time in 5 years.

Y/N felt bad for lying to her parents but it was for their own good. Now, that she had sent them to a honeymoon to travel all over Europe, she felt better in pursuing her mission without concerns.

Besides the joyful return there was also the awful ones.

Now, that Wilfred Nagel was back from the blip. The serum was perfected to its finest version. And was stolen by bunch of kids protesting for equal rights.

What a fucking mess that was.

But, she would deal with that later. The main focus right now was to find the man itself. There would be no more serums if the source is eradicated.

That was her priority.

With her face hidden behind her signature mask, Y/N walked through the messy crowd as she searches for Shelby's men. This should be a short meeting, since Shelby and her had history together; or more to a favour that she owns to Y/N.

However, when she tried to tune in into the hushed conversations in the crowd, she noticed that the murmurs seemed to be divided into two hot topics; one about the sudden appreance of the Deathstalker, which was herself, and second was surprisingly about the return of another notorious assassin. 

Then when the conversations died down, a fight suddenly broke out. Y/N hold on the handle of her blades from the side of her thighs, as she stiffed into a defensive mode.

While on the other hand, the crowd seemed to be more interested in recording the fight, than avoiding it.

She seemlessly weaved her way through the people, only to see that the action ended with a man choked onto the table of bar. The attacker's face turned away from her where she could only see his figure from the back.

Then, a gleam of gold caught her attention, Y/N squinted her eyes as she analyzed the man's left arm.

It was not the pattern of the sleeve from his suit.

It was his arm.

A black bionic arm.

Which reminded of her of someone she came across in her 6th life; but his was a tin foil silver with a red star on his upper arm. At the time, he was Hydra's most prized asset, they called him the Winter Soldier.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: yes, I am well aware that left y'all hanging but I still hope you enjoy this one. Tell me what you think so far, I'm curious if y'all cry at the part where she received the letter or maybe you can comment of something else, I'd still love to hear them ♡

#winterarmyyfics #promise me au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky #1940s!bucky #tfatws!bucky

[sumeruin]

♫♪: punishments!!

♫♪: pairing: dottore x bunny hybrid! reader

♫♪: warnings: written by a minor, slight yandere, aphrodisiac usage, dacryphilia, grinding, reader gets tied up, begging, mentions of being cut open (nothing really graphic though dw), if i missed anything let me know!!!

♫♪: a/n: happy easter!! :)

♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!!

“zandik? do you think we could go for a walk sometime? it’s been a while since we’ve been able to do anything together.” dottore’s head immediately snapped in you direction, his eyes narrowed and full of suspicion.

“where did you hear that name?” you shoot him an innocent smile. “what do you mean? that’s your name, isn’t it, zandik? i think it’s a lovely name if i’m being honest.”

he scoffs, slowly approaching you like how a predator would approach its cornered prey. you feel a pit of anxiety and fear gnawing at your gut when you see the pure, unadulterated rage in his eyes, starting to think that maybe you had finally taken it too far.

dottore grips your face tightly in his hand once he reaches you, his other moving to rest wrapped around your neck. “you know very well what i mean. you know not to talk about my past.” he forces your head up to stare directly into his eyes, and you swear you see the corners of lips quirk up when he sees the glassy shimmer of fear in yours, obviously enjoying how easy it is for him to rile you up.

“i think a punishment is in order, you need to learn how to control that mouth of yours and stop being such a brat.” you swallow nervously at his words. his punishments are always agonizing. your ears involuntarily twitch at the memory of your last one, still able to remember the way his scalpels felt when he carved open your skin.

“no! i’m sorry, dottore. i didn’t mean it!” he smirks, clearly enjoying your begging. “that’s better, but still not enough. you broke one of my rules, and you think a simple apology will be enough? you’re dumber than i thought.”

you desperately grab his sleeve, eyes starting to fill with tears that threatened to spill with every passing second. “please! i’ll do anything, i promise, just please, not another punishment. i’ll be good, i won’t ever break any of the rules again, i swear!”

dottore smiles at you, removing his hands from your face and neck to rest one of the back of your head and bury it in his chest, his thumb lightly stroking the base of one of your fluffy ears. the other moves down to rest on your waist, softly caressing your puffy tail and bringing you that much closer to him. he presses a soft kiss against the top of your head before speaking.

“as much as i enjoy your sweet voice begging me to take pity on you, i’m afraid i can’t let you go without a punishment this time.” his hold on you gets tighter when he feels you jolt in fear, tears finally spilling and soaking the fabric of his shirt. “but, if you calm down and stop trying to escape the inevitable, i might go easier on you. i have a couple new drugs i’ve been meaning to test, and none of the side effects are permanent. if you’re good, you can test those for me and i won’t have to cut you open again. as much i enjoy punishing you that way, you have such adverse reactions to it, and i wouldn’t want to make my little rabbit distressed just because you said my name. that wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

with the combination of dottore’s cologne invading your senses, the slight lack of air from being pressed against him for so long, and the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. he smiles when he feels you feebly nod your head against his chest, stroking your hair one last time before forcing you to your knees and tying your hands and legs up.

“now, just stay here and be good while i go get the medicine ready. it shouldn’t take longer than five minutes.” he kneels down and smooths away your tears while he speaks, leaving one last kiss to the top of your forehead before getting up and walking away, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts and a slowly increasing sense of relief that you wouldn’t be hurt again.

true to his words, dottore comes back five minutes later holding multiple bottles filled to the brims with color liquids. you watch curiously as he spreads them out in front of you. “since you’ve been so cooperative with your punishment this time, i’ve decided to let you choose which one you try. pick one out and i’ll save the others for later.” you slowly look down at your options, there’s so many it’s hard to choose. after a couple minutes of deliberation with dottore staring at you with a mix of love and fascination, you decide to go with the shimmery pink one in the heart shaped bottle.

“dottore?” he tilts his head to the side and hums. “what, little rabbit? have you decided?”

“mhm. i want the cute pink one!”

dottore laughs, patting your cheek condescendingly before sitting down on the floor in front of you. he picks up your chosen bottle and pulls off the cork before pressing it to your lips. “drink up, in order to get accurate results you have to take all of it.”

you obediently swallow everything in the bottle, and almost instantly you feel your entire body heat up, a sharp pang of arousal striking through your whole body. helpless whimpers start to slip from your lips as you look up and dottore with glossy, teary eyes. “ah! ‘tore, please help! hurts so bad, n-need you to touch me, hurts!” the end of your sentence trails off into a needy whine, and you lean your body against him.

you feel his chest vibrate with a small laugh while you hopelessly squirm and cry against him, his arms coming up to wrap around your body. “oh, dear, it seems my little experiment has put you into an early heat, huh? you poor thing.” he starts cooing at you in that sickeningly sweet voice he uses when he wants you to feel more like a pet than a person. “it was a very weak aphrodisiac, i didn’t think you’d react this strongly to it. i should’ve taken this into account though, it’s my fault, really.”

“don’ care, just need you to touch me! please ‘tore, it hurts!” you whine out, trying to grind against him for something, anything, to relieve the deep ache that’s settled between your legs. he shushes you, his hands starting to move up towards your soft, fluffy ears. he starts to gently rub at them, getting rougher when you let out a loud moan at the feeling.

dottore keeps playing with your ears like that while you grind yourself against his knee, the overwhelming sensations soon becoming too much for your body to handle as you violently cum all over his leg, the pain finally going away as you lean against him and let out a content sigh.

before you can say anything, you feel his large bulge underneath you, and as you feel your body heat up for the second time, you know that you’ll have a long night ahead of you.

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ angel’s creations ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin fanfic #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #yandere genshin smut #yandere dottore x reader #yandere dottore smut #yandere dottore #dottore x reader #dottore smut #genshin dottore #dottore

[demonvibez]

Clueless

A/N: These requests were just too good, and I had quite a bit of fun with it. Karen Smith is such an icon, I had to take this idea and run with it, lol. Mostly fun, a few serious parts. Hope you guys like it - may expand on this later (perhaps with an nsfw version). Anyways, enjoy! ♡ Characters: Demon Brothers x GN Reader Word Count: 3.7k+ Rating: Teen [Suggestive Themes] Tags: gn reader, dumb reader, implied violence, suggestive themes/implied sex

☆ LUCIFER:

-> He believed it all to be an act at first - surely he and Lord Diavolo had the sense to acquire a human for the exchange program that would actually be up to the task to complete it. Surely you were just pulling a prank on him, much like his younger brothers would. You aren't actually this dense...right? 

-> Feels even more responsible for you than normal, so he feels the need to keep a tight leash on you. You bring a lot of chaos to the Devildom, and he can't have you ruining any reputations (yours, his or Lord Diavolo's), so he practically becomes your shadow in order to minimize any mayhem you may cause - especially since you're so prone to injury.

-> Has a hard time punishing you - your obliviousness causes you to have a hard time taking any of it seriously. He'll never forget the first time you started giggling during one of his lectures, after he caught you and two of his brothers destroying the kitchen. After many headaches, he's had to come up with whole new ways to deal with you - most of which are torture via boredom.

♡ He's not sure when, but somehow, he began to find you rather endearing - and next thing he knew, he had actually fallen for you. No one is more shocked than he is - maybe it's the innocence in your eyes when you look up at him, or the way your smile brings a blush to his cheeks. But now he can't help but to feel affection for all of those dumb little things you do. You have turned the Lucifer Morningstar into a full-blown morosexual for you, and there's no turning back for him now - he is beyond smitten with you, although he does often question himself. "How can a human such as you stir such emotions within me?" So innocent, so earnest, so loyal. Many aspects of Lucifer's life is difficult, but loving you is so easy.

♡ As the Avatar of Pride, he has no issues being very blunt with his feelings for you. The night before, he stays up late in his study, writing several drafts of the confession he plans to recite to you over dinner at Ristorante Six. He knows you, after all, and wants to make himself very clear.

♡ He loves that you depend on him, he practically lives for it. You constantly need his help and protection, and his already ineffable Pride gets inflated every time you turn to him with those innocent eyes and pouty face of yours. It gets to a point where he is used to always being with you - you fall into a synchronicity, a routine. It gets to the point where Lucifer even asks you to move into his room; he would love to share the space with you, and it would just be much simpler for you both - he knows what's best for you, after all.

-> If anyone ever questions his relationship with you, he shuts it down instantly with a singular murderous glare. Pride is unshakable, but Lucifer is still prone to annoyance. He'll string them up in the middle of the RAD courtyard without even breaking a sweat. Nothing like a little public shaming to show the naysayers who the true imbeciles are.

☆ MAMMON:

-> Idiocy loves company, and he's beyond glad to have you in his company! Two peas in a pod, no wonder Lucifer stuck the two of you together!

-> He loves how easy it is to rope you along into pulling schemes with him - he's never had a better partner in crime! And when the two of you inevitably get caught by Lucifer, your cluelessness tends to come in handy.

-> He also loves how your grades are equally bad! It means he won't have to suffer the wrath of Satan's study sessions alone anymore.

-> Pretty much becomes your shadow when he notices how clumsy you are - any human would be in danger in the Devildom, but your stupidity leads you into more peril than normal. After a couple of minor injuries (and a scrape with a lower demon), Mammon decides it's best if he doesn't let you out of his sight. Lucifer put him in charge of you after all, he's just doin' what he's told!

♡ But in all honesty, it's another way you two connect. He loves all the crazy times you two have together, the impulsive adventures you get yourselves into. He feels like you both understand each other better than anyone! The only problem is, between his tsundere act and your extreme obliviousness, your relationship is stuck in limbo. All of his brothers' teasing goes right over your head, and a flustered Mammon usually denies it while trying to hide what a blushing mess he really is. Until, one day, he can't take it anymore - "I'm in love with ya, ya big dummy," he blurts out as the two of you ride in his Demonio 666. 

♡ And ever since that random Tuesday afternoon, you and Mammon have been inseparable. You two are truly like twin flames - consequences don't even matter as long as you're by his side. He'd take a million lectures, be strung up a million times, hell he'd even cut up his credit cards into a million pieces if it means he gets to keep you forever. That dumb smile of yours is worth more than all the Grimm in the Devildom, and he'd do anything for you to flash it at him, even if just for a moment. He wasn't sure he believed in soul mates before, but now that he has you, he's damn sure you're his.

-> No one really gives Mammon grief about his relationship with you, seeing as you're a perfect match made in Hell (affectionate). But you can imagine if they did, they'd suddenly find themselves in more debt than the Avatar himself. And if that doesn't work, he'll fight for ya! Mammon is no stranger to winning a scrap ;)

☆ LEVIATHAN:

-> He makes a lot of assumptions about you at first - you're just another basic normie, aren't you?!

-> Sometimes believes you are mocking him with your questions - especially when it comes to his special interests. How can you possibly be so clueless?! He's explained this game to you literally ten times?!?! You must be inting or something!! You have to be doing this on purpose!!!

-> Also believes your forgetfulness is on purpose, thinking you secretly hate him - or at the very least, don't really care for him. He figures when you agree to hang out with him that you're either just being nice, or are too dumb to figure out how to get out of it, so you must just go along with it. So when you forget him, he thinks you're purposely ghosting him for someone better.

-> He eventually confronts you about all of this, only for him to be met with a confused look on your face. The two of you awkwardly chat it out, and afterward he starts to think that he may be the bigger idiot for making so many assumptions.

-> But once he understands you, you start to grow on him - you remind him of that one MC from 'Oops! That Normie Who Dropped in from Another Realm is Now My Bestie and I May Be Developing a Crush!' and how they may say and do stupid things, but it's actually kind of endearingly cute! And they're so soo loyal! Wait, you actually kinda look like them, too. Prepare yourself - new cosplay incoming, courtesy of Leviathan. He does second guess himself over it a bit - Is it weird if he makes the matching cosplay to go along with yours? It's totally weird, isn't it?! No it isn't, because you're too dumb to think too deeply into it! But he will overthink it all the same.

♡ Not the best at openly talking about his emotions, and he doesn't want to ruin your current relationship with him, so it may be more difficult for him to get across his feelings to you. He keeps dropping subtle little hints in the hopes that you'll eventually pick up on it. And if you never do, one day he just blurts it out (after numerous pep talks from his brothers). He tries writing a confession in the notes app of his DDD to read off for you, but he gets so nervous he drops his phone and ends up just shouting, "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!" - after which is followed with a flurry of apologies from the otaku demon. 

♡ And after that, you find yourself practically living in his room - and he finds himself purposely losing at games so that you can get a few wins, all to see that excited look on your face that he adores so much. He truly has found his player two! ^.^

-> It would be unusual to find the hikikomori demon in a social situation where someone is questioning your relationship to his face - he does spend a lot of time defending you online, however, and has been successful in getting a few of your haters' accounts nuked. RIP.

☆ SATAN:

-> Honestly annoyed by you at first. You just ask so damn many questions, and it seems like you don't even retain the answers. 

-> Then one day he overhears Lucifer lecturing you about your failing grades - Challenge accepted. You are now his new project. How hard could it possibly be? It would be quite the accomplishment for him, and he's sure it will annoy Lucifer in the mean time! Seeing him put so much effort into the stupid human is sure to throw Lucifer off of his game! The Old Man will think he is plotting something nefarious, but-

-> Ahem. Anyways, expect your bookshelves to rapidly fill up with gifts from him - with everything from textbooks, to picture books, to entire series of epic novels. Expect him to be over after dinner every night, to sit with you an indulge in one of these books. He'll let you pick something most of the time, but he occasionally becomes insistent of one of his own picks - the erotica he reads to you tends to go over your head, anyways.

-> Quickly finds he has to adjust his teaching style, having to go over rudimentary concepts with you multiple times. He's much more patient with you than he is with Mammon his brothers, his temper non-existent as he slowly repeats the lesson to you again. He knows you are trying your best, and is willing to put in the same effort you put forth. Occasionally you do aggravate him in this regard - he usually just takes it out on the first one of his brothers he sees, instead of you. Thankfully.

-> He's unsure what it is about you, but something about you really calms the wrath raging within him. Maybe it's your carefree, peaceful nature that soothes the storm within him. Maybe it's that adorable smile that can light up the darkest of Devildom nights. Maybe it's the way you never fail to make him laugh when you make Lucifer lose his temper. Either way he hasn't failed to notice that his days are better with you in them.

-> Sometimes his patience for you does wear thin though - especially when your stupidity gets you hurt! 'You're not going to survive in this realm if you keep acting so thoughtlessly,' he says through gritted teeth, as he patches up the lacerations on your arm - caused by you touching a killer plant adorned with a very large warning sign. He does his best to keep his anger within, but he's yelled at you a few times, almost desperate to finally get his point across to you.

♡ It is quite obvious to him why he has fallen for you, so he wastes no time in planning his confession. He knows his romantic gesture will have to be overt, the goal being that you truly comprehend understand his feelings for you. A thoughtful gift along with a handwritten letter, simply stating how he is deeply in love with you - and if any confusion remains, he'd be happy to explain. 

♡ And after that, he spends each day with you in bliss. As the moonlight illuminates the pages of his book, he softly reads the words to you; and as you fall asleep in his arms, he knows that this is what true happiness is. He may never be allowed in the Celestial Realm, but being with you makes him feel like he's already there.

-> If people question his relationship with you, they only do so in hushed tones - no one wants to be on the receiving end of his Wrath, especially after that one demon went missing after gawking at the two of you on a date.

☆ ASMODEUS:

-> Excited to adopt you into his inner circle - he knows someone like you would be the perfect little doll for him! He already thinks you're just oh so adorable, and it will be incredibly easy for him to turn you into his little Mini Asmo.

-> New style, new hair, new everything! Be prepared to truly become his twin, for he wants you to become his shadow. Doesn't even take him much effort to convince you to change your schedule to match his! 

-> Asmo is definitely the Queen Bee of RAD, but you're basically the Queen's Hand - he regards your thoughts and opinions highly, as if they are the royal decree. He may also lightly tease you at times, wanting nothing more than to see the many cute faces you make, but he would never stab you in the back. HBIC's have to look out for each other, after all! 

-> Your grades actually go up, shockingly enough, thanks to Asmo having his fan club do all of your schoolwork. You don't have time for that nonsense! 'Pamper and Pre-Game' with Asmo is way more important than writing some silly Devildom Law essay - you don't wanna be late to the Fall, after all!

-> The two of you pretty much run the school, constantly making waves and setting trends. You get your own fan club, but you also have a fair amount of haters! Either way, all eyes are on you, and every dumb little thing you do ends up going viral online. Some days you're being praised for your fashion, others you're being meme'd for your clumsiness. And of course, Asmo always helps you take advantage of these moments, good or bad. Never a dull day on the Devilnet!

-> He especially loves that your air-headedness leaves a lot of room for you to be open minded to experimentation (or maybe you're just easy to convince, hehe). It's lead to a lot of wild nights in his bedroom, with the two of you experiencing unfathomable euphoria - those nights will forever live rent free in his mind. Perhaps he can convince you to let Sol join the two of you next time...

-> On the other hand, he notices he has to keep an extra sharp eye on you when the two of you are out partying together - your obliviousness has almost led you to a few dangerous situations, one that ended up leaving Asmo's strawberry-blonde hair stained crimson. He is now hyper-vigilant over you, always guarding your drinks and cutting in on the dancefloor.

♡ How could the Avatar of Lust not fall you for? His best friend, his partner in crime, his darling human~♡! He comes to the realization that he loves you even more than himself, and that he must start making a plan! The date of all dates to sweep you off of your feet and right into his arms~♡ He knows he'll have to be clear and concise when he makes his confession - not only are you a bit dense, but his usual Avatar of Lust brand of affection may make it... confusing for you, to figure out that he truly loves you romantically. Whatever, who cares! He'll tell you a million times over if you need him to ♡!

♡ After that, not too much will change, for you were already inseparable before his confession! He may become a bit more possessive, but that comes with the territory of being Lust's Chosen One. The two of you are RAD's Power Couple, and he will make damn sure the entire Devildom knows it!

-> When it comes to your relationship, Asmodeus is ride or die. If anyone ever questions it, he brushes it off with his signature smile and a cold remark - at first. Like a scorpion, he strikes from the shadows. Pink may be his color, but he is also well aware how amazing he looks in red~♡ ;)

☆ BEELZEBUB:

-> Doesn't think too much about it at first - you're just that nice human with the pretty smile and the fun stash of human world snacks. 

-> The least judgmental of his brothers, while also being the first to get to know you deeply. He feels like you're really easy to understand, and he finds that it's really easy to open up to you. He becomes a lot more talkative when you're around, and soon the two of you have you own dumb little inside jokes that his brothers are jealous they aren't in on. You don't even get each other's jokes half the time (which is mostly your fault, no offense) but laughter truly is contagious, and you have so much fun in each other's company.

-> Once he really gets to know you, he worries about you endlessly! He feels the need to become even more protective over you than he already is. Not only does your clumsiness worry him, but your forgetfulness too. He knows for a fact that humans need to eat to survive! What do you mean you forgot to eat lunch?! How can you forget something like that...and before you know it, he's adding some of his Acidic Hell Fries to your plate.

-> So he starts inviting you to eat with him every single day, and he loves how easily you say yes! No matter the menu, no matter the restaurant, you're always down to go out with him and share a bite to eat - you don't even ask questions! And he really admires how adventurous you are - always ordering new dishes, never turning down a bite of some strange food when he offers it, the smile on your face when you actually do enjoy it. Sharing a simple meal with you quickly becomes the part of his day he looks forward to the most.

-> The two of you do get into your own share of trouble every now and then though. While Beel has been banned from the Devildom's various eating contests, you haven't been - and you never seem to learn how sick these contests make you, no matter how badly you wanna give the prize to Beel. And let's not forget all the times you've had to wash dishes at Hell's Kitchen because you both ran outta the House without making sure you had a single Grimm on you. Either way, the two of you have so much fun together, that you never regret it - or learn from it.

♡ He wears his heart on his sleeve, and while Beelzebub isn't dumb like you are, he does have a certain innocent honesty about him - so he has no problem telling you his true feelings about you. He may get the slightest bit frustrated after having to explain it so many times, but hand him a snack and he'll have all the patience in the world to sit with you and help you understand how much he truly loves you.

♡ And after that, you continue to spend your days with your sweet cinnamon roll of a boyfriend. Whether you're hanging with him at the gym or sneaking out for a late night snack, being with you always makes his heart feel so full - a feeling he would never trade, even for a thousand Shadow Goose Burgers. 

-> Doesn't even remotely pay attention to what others are saying about his relationship with you - why even bother worrying about that? Although there was that one time some random demon at RAD did question him about it, but Beel couldn't hear them over the rumble of his own stomach - which they hilariously mistook as a threat, causing them to run off in terror. 

☆ BELPHEGOR:

-> Your stupidity made his scheme in the attic all too easy! Truly like the wolf leading the lamb. He could have never dreamed that such a perfect target would just fall right into his lap, would stumble into the attic and right into his trap - it was almost comical. He could have also never dreamed that, once the veil of hate was lifted from his eyes, the amount of overwhelming guilt he would feel. Naïve, innocent little lamb. He'd do anything to make up for it - he's failed to protect you twice already, and he won't be making that mistake again.

-> Suddenly overprotective, as well as a bit possessive. He knows how easily you can be fooled into mortal danger, so you can expect him to lurk in the shadows. The circle of people he trusts (his brothers) is small, and he even occasionally has doubts about a few of them. 

-> Other than that, he is beyond amused by you, and he knows he's going to have a lot of mischievous fun with you by his side! The House of Lamentation was already chaotic with just the seven of them, but your arrival truly added a wild card to the mix. Your absentminded hijinks are usually funny enough for him to warrant losing a bit of sleep.

-> He pretty much makes you the mascot for the Anti-Lucifer League - any schemes he and the Fourth Born can think up, they rope you into. Typically used as bait, watching Lucifer freak out as you stand there looking clueless truly never gets old. No matter how many times they explain the pranks to you, you never really understand what's going on - which makes for a great defense when all three of you inevitably get lectured by the Eldest afterwards.

-> Loves how easy it is to convince you to skip class and nap with him - you're the only one he's shown all of his favorite hiding spots to. Partially because he knows you'll never remember where they are without his help, but also because he loves cuddling up with you. 

♡ He's actually tried several times to convey his feelings to you, with everything from romantic dreams to starlit dates. He's even kissed you, how much more obvious can he get?! If it were anyone but you, he probably would have given up and gone back to sleep. But you're you and you're worth it, so he stays up late conjuring up exactly what to say to you, hoping this time his bluntness makes it clear.

♡ And after that, the two of you spend the majority of your free time cuddled up in each other's loving embrace. It's nothing but sweet dreams and starry skies, so long as you have Belphie by your side.

-> Questioning his relationship with you (or badmouthing you in general) is probably one of the most egregious mistakes one could make. If the endless night terrors aren't enough to evoke instant regret, the Avatar of Sloth doesn't mind resorting to violence for you.

· demonvibez ♡ 2024 · do not copy, repost or modify · · likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

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[jangofettjamz]

Unlovable Child

Jenna Ortega x Autistic!Male!Reader

Warnings: Child abuse

2nd Person POV

"I'm going out of town for a week to see my parents" you tell Jenna. The two of you were snuggled up together on the couch, binge watching The Mandalorian on Disney+.

"Oh, do you want some company?" Jenna offered to which you shook your head no. Your parents wasn't exactly the gold standard when it comes to parenting, in fact they'd probably win an award as being one of the worst.

You've never discussed your parents with Jenna because of this, not wanting her to be involved with them due to their toxic nature. You feared that exposing them to her would only cause more trouble than its worth.

"You sure you don't want me to come with? I can--"

"No no you really don't have to" you said, cutting her off a little too quickly to go unnoticed. She gave you a look of suspicion, knowing there was likely some underlying tension between your parents and you.

You tried to put her at ease "I-I mean... they haven't seen me for a while... I wouldn't want to overwhelm them by introducing you to them... y'know given your fame and all. No offence"

Your stuttering and lack of a believable reason wasn't enough to ease Jenna's growing concern for you, but she smiled anyway, which in turn made you smile. You knew she wasn't convinced.

She pulled you in closer, making sure you were nestled into her chest. She had a feeling deep down that you were keeping something from; something terrible. Anxiousness flooded her nervous system, making her rethink about letting you go.

Her heartbeat quickened because of this, something you caught by having your head on her chest. "Jenna? Are you okay?" You asked.

She looked at you and smiled to put you at ease "Everything's fine, sweet boy. Everything's okay." She reassured, kissing your forehead to ease your worries.

But it wasn't her you were worried about, it was meeting your parents for the first time in years. The last time you spoke to your parents was 2 years prior, just before you moved out for your new job, just before you met Jenna for the first time. It didn't exactly end on the greatest of terms.

You parents were vile; abelists who took pleasure in calling you the most horrid of insults for their own sick pleasure. It made them feel better about themselves, like they were superior. They were never proud of you, even though your academics should make them so. They could never be proud of someone like you, someone who was autistic.

Of course, with many dysfunctional households come with their fair share of physical abuse, which in your case was fairly common place. The slightest of mistakes ended in severe punishment, that being knocking a drink over, talking to loudly .etc.

You were deemed a failure in the eyes of your parents despite everything you've accomplished in school, your well paying job; it meant nothing. You were never good enough for them. You were simply too much of a "spaz" to love. You were nothing to them, only when money was an issue were you of any use.

You held Jenna a little tighter just think about this. Painful memories from your past flashed through your mind, reminding you of the awful people they were.

But you maybe they had changed, maybe they realised the error of their ways, you naively thought to yourself, only setting yourself up for a meeting that would inevitably send you crashing down.

But you had to believe. "They have changed. Of course they changed, they only said and did all that stuff to make me into the man I am today. They love me. Don't they?"

- 1 day later

Jenna was on the phone with her director discussing filming dates. She was currently working multiple films at once and needed to negotiate dates so that it wouldn't impede on her schedule.

You always admired how she could do so many films at once, though, you wished she would take a break sometimes as it can tire her out.

Jenna's phone call was immediately interrupted by the sound of the door opening revealing your figure. "Mark I'm gonna have to call you back" she hangs up the phone, confused as to why you were back 6 days earlier than anticipated.

You were wearing sunglasses, unusual considering the weather outside was quite gloomy. Perhaps you just felt like wearing them, she thought to herself.

"Hi, baby boy." She kisses your cheek, but noticed that it looked awfully red and... swollen? "You're back early. Did everything go okay down there?" Jenna asked to which you nodded with a smile, albeit a dishonest smile.

"Yeah everything went great, just gad to cut the trip short because they were busy and stuff. My parents are busy people after all" you say in a somewhat cheery tone. The swollen part of your face was pulsing, as though the nerve endings in your face had been set alight.

Jenna continued to examine your face, still finding it strange that you haven't taken off your shades yet. "Wait, he wasn't even wearing shades when he left. Why was he wearing them now?" She thought, trying to ascertain the situation.

She noticed your hands were shaking; odd considering you were always calm around her most of the time and it wasn't cold indoors because of the heating. One of your arms was holding your stomach too.

All this information, combined with the fact that your back 6 days ahead of schedule is enough to tell Jenna that something was very very wrong.

"Hey babe can you take off those glasses for me? I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours." She asked sweetly, forceful was not the right approach. You looked at her, trying to strum up a lame excuse not to oblige.

"No!" He exclaims, catching Jenna off guard. You quickly try to come up with a better excuse. "I mean i-it's really bright in here Jenna, my eyes are kinda tired from driving, y'know" you play off terribly, adding a smile to try and convince otherwise.

Jenna isn't buying it, you know this. She's too smart. "Y/N your face is bright red, and swollen" His smile quickly drops. "Your hands are shaking too, and I can see a cut behind your hair. You and I both know it isn't cold in here and that cut is recent too." She exhales sadly, turning her attention too your stomach "You're holding you're stomach babe, like you're in pain. What happened over there?"

You panic, you knew she wasn't an idiot but you can't bare to let her find out about your parents, about your past. It was too embarrassing, she'd surely leave you for not being man enough to fight back. That what your father had conditioned you to believe, that you weren't a real man because of your condition, that you were sub-human.

"I-I d-dont--" "let me see your eyes, my love" bowing your head in defeat, you allowed Jenna to remove your shades, the sight horrified her, sending shivers down to the deepest depths of her soul. She gasped, her hands covering her mouth as you she saw the damage.

A massive purple bruise covered your right eye, the eye itself was completely red. The area around the eye was completely swollen too. The left eye was also bruised, not as bad but still bruised nonetheless.

Anger bubbled within Jenna, the prospect of someone hurting her baby was sickening to her, she knoew this had to be your parent's doing. "They did this to you, didn't they"

"W-what no! They would never do this to me. My family love me, Jenna. They do" you tried convince her, you tried to convince yourself mostly. Tears pricked at your eyes, stinging even more due to the beating you took.

"Honey... why would they do this to you? What happened?" She asked gently with a tinge of sadness in her tone. You couldn't keep up with the lie any longer.

You took a deep breath. You wanted to tell her what happened, tell her about the desperation you felt when your father's belt connected with your back. How your mother held you down as he did it, beating and beating and beating you for being the spaz who disappointed his parents just by looking at him. She held your hands "It's okay. It's just me. Just Jenna"

A single tear fell down your cheek causing Jenna to wipe it away. "They wanted money..." you started, taking a deep breath before continuing "They wanted money that were apparently "owed" for not getting rid of me. I said no, and I'm sure you can imagine how they reacted to that. They beat me, Jenna. They both did. I couldn't stop them, I tried as hard as I could but they kept..." you sniffled, holding back what would have been a giant sob.

"They kept pummelling me with the belt, punching me in the stomach. Mom held me down and I couldn't anything. They said I was unlovable... I'm unlovable, Jenna!" He broke down completely, falling onto his knees. Your emotions that you'd been holding since you left your parents had escaped, the dull pain now fresh again.

Jenna lifted the back of your shirt to find the purple lashes that layed there, where your father had taken out his anger with the belt. She immediately held you, her own eyes tearing up at your broken state. You clung to her like a lifeline.

"Shhhh, its okay baby. You're safe now. You're safe with me again." He whales in anguish and pain, his sobs became louder as each one left his mouth.

"Jen it hurts" you said like a scared child, exactly what you were at your parent's house.

Upon hearing this Jenna decided it was best for you to lay down on your side to avoid laying on your lashed back. "Come on, honey let's lay you on the couch. Lay on your side for me, my sweet." You did as instructed.

She lifted up your top to see the bruises on your stomach, purple and still fresh. She was going to annihilate your parents, but that comes later. "I'm gonna go get an ice pack, then we're taking you to the hospital"

"No! No! Please no doctors!" You pleaded

She knelt down and stroked your hair to out you at ease as best she could "Shh shh shh, don't think about that now okay. Let me go get an ice pack for your stomach. I'll be right back." She left quickly for the ice, returning as quickly as she left.

She lifted up your shirt and let you get ready for the ice. "On three. One. Two. Three." She presses the ice to your abdomen, the cooling sensation soothed the pain little by little bringing you great relief. "Good boy baby, you being so brave for me" she cooed, kissing the top of his head.

She held the ice pack as you writhed in pain on the couch. Her free hand alternates between rubbing your arm and combing through your hair. She placed little kisses on your swollen cheek, not hurting at all when she did.

The recollection of events that played in your mind caused you to cry again. Jenna brought your head into her neck as she held you close, her skin absorbing most of the tears. "Oh baby, please don't cry. You're not unlovable. You're my very beautiful boy who I love so very very much. They don't deserve you."

You held onto her tight, thinking how lucky you were to have such a wonderful woman in your life. Your parents would've definitely said you didn't deserve her, and maybe you didn't. But that didn't detract from how much you loved her, and appreciated her.

"I love you, Y/N. I love you with every fibre of my being" hearing this made you smile out of pure gratitude and love.

"I love you too, Jenna" you say, voice still wobbly from crying. You pulled your head from the crook of her neck and the two of you just smile at each other, you took in the beauty of her face while Jenna gazed upon your battered one. She pulls you in for a gentle kiss, a long kiss that you desperately needed.

"Bubs we do need to get your tummy looked at. We'll call my mom to have a look at you, but we may need to go to the hospital if it's bad. We can do all that tomorrow though, just rest in my arms for now. Can you do that for me?" You nodded your head "I won't let them get away with this Y/N. Mark my words they're finished."

You'd never seen Jenna this angry, but it brought a strange sense of reassurance, like everything was going to be okay. "Can we watch a movie? I wanna take my mind off of this"

"Of course we can, bubs. What do you wanna watch? Empire strikes back?" She asked, knowing how much you loved that movie. You nodded making her smile and kiss you again.

She layed down next to you, inviting you to curl up next to her and lay your head on her chest. "You're not unlovable, flower. You're a very loveable and amazing person." You smile at her words, Jenna loved you very much and today was evidence of that.

She cradles your body in her arms, still feeling you tremble from everything that has happened. It would be a long road to you heal from this but she'd be with you the whole way there.

She gently rocks you while you watch the film, the sight of Darth Vader igniting your child-like love that Jenna adored.

"Hey bubs, promise you'll never think yourself as unlovable. Promise me that my love."

"I promise." You say, even though you still didn't fully believe it. Your parents words still hurt.

"Good boy. My special beautiful boy"

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #wednesday x y/n #male reader

[remuslupinslittleslut]

I love your writing! Like ugh every detail is so hot! You have a gift

anyways I saw the prompt list and I think 14 and 16 with mean bf Remus or the teach me dynamic would be so hot!

I get so Happy whenever someone says something nice about my writing, even when I don't reply to the ask (bc it feels like its just boosting my ego?) I GET SO HAPPY and I do a lil happy dance THANK YOU to everyone who reads and even more to everyone who takes the time to let me know you enjoy it <3 love u guys and I LOVE THIS

YEs, mean bf!Remus and teach us!dynamics and OH Remus Lupin owns me!!

14: “I don’t need a reason. I can do whatever I want to you.” Mean bf!Remus x Reader

Masterlist.

This was not what you’d expected when you started tugging on the arm of Remus’ sweater, telling him you needed him. You figured he’d pretend to be annoyed for a bit, tell you sorry love, gotta work a bit more, but then inevitably give in.

That wasn’t… quite the reaction you received. He had told you he needed to work more, asking you to behave, but you pressed further, even took his hand and shoved it between your thighs to make him feel how wet you were for him. It had been the wrong move, which you noticed instantly as his face changed when he turned to look at you.

Grabbing a hold of your chin, fingers squeezing hard, forcing your lips into a pout, he said, “Is my little girl acting like a slut? A little cockwhore? I thought you were my good girl, what happened to her? Huh?”

His words hurt, you were his good girl, but you also needed attention, so you told him as much.

“‘m sorry daddy, just wanted you.”

He only huffed in reply, as he got up from his chair, abandoning his work. Normally this would be a win for you – but judging by the mood he was in and the harsh movements of his body, you figured a punishment was to come.

He walked you to the bed, hand on your lower back, before he pushed you onto the furniture, hands holding onto you harshly. Taking your hands in his, he straddled your waist and reached for the rope he only used when punishing you.

“Hands up,” he said, with little energy left in his voice.

You did as told, but you couldn’t help the little pout setting on your face. The rope was hard and Remus wasn’t being very soft in his usage of it, making sure you couldn’t get out of the ties. When your arms were perfectly secured, he did the same to your feet, making sure you couldn’t move much at all.

“Now, daddy has work to do, but if I understood correctly, you need someone to touch your little cunny?” He asked, faux concern all over his face.

You nodded, happy that he was so understanding.

“Hm, yes, I guess this will work then,” he said, reaching for your strongest wand vibrator, turning it to the max setting and placing it between your legs. “There you go, love, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? Now daddy can go back to his work.”

You whined, this was unfair. He was going to leave you all alone on your bed, not caring about how overstimulated your little pussy would get.

“Daddy, no, you can’t do this to me… please, please stay, ‘s so unfair, I didn’t even do anything, please daddy...” Your voice was desperate.

Remus stopped, just as he was about to walk out the door, turned his body toward you and spoke.

“I don’t need a reason. I can do whatever I want to you.”

Then, he turned, left the room and closed the door.

The first few minutes you were loud, crying out for him, begging him to come back. Then your first orgasm came, and you were loud again, but in a different way. The head of the vibrator sent shocks up and down your body, made your empty hole squeeze around nothing, you missed Remus’ cock so badly. Your second orgasm came shortly after, it wasn’t quite as intense, but your body shook through the waves.

Your energy wasn’t as high for your third and fourth orgasms, your sounds were lower, though your body still shook and spasmed. Sweat was running down your body and you felt the large pool of your own cum beneath your ass and back.

After you came the fifth time, you started losing your hold on reality. All you knew was that you missed your daddy, and that you wanted the relentless, now hurting, vibrations to end – or at least calm down. They didn’t. Tears were running down your cheeks, or maybe spit, likely both.

You had lost both count and touch with reality when the bedroom door was finally opened again.

“Da-addy, ple-ease, he-elp, me-ee,” your voice was ruined, shaky from crying and weak from screaming.

Remus walked to the bed and lowered the vibrator, but he didn’t turn it off completely.

“Daddy isn’t quite done with work yet, and you’re disturbing him with your loud noises,” he chided, making you cry out louder than ever before.

“No, daddy, you can’t leave me, please daddy, ‘m so sorry, please don’t leave…” you were babbling, arching your back this way and that – trying anything to make him stay.

Reaching to wipe the tears from your face, he smiled, meanly.

“Beg for it like the slut you are.”In the end, he did let you out of your ties and agreed to take the vibrator away, but only after he’d come down your throat, pulling yet another orgasm from you.

#mywriting #fanfic #amathelia writes #marauders era #smut #marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #mean bf!remus #dom!rem

[theelfsongbard]

Astarion has a Nightmare Drabble (sfw + angst)

Cw: Cazador abuse

Summary: based on a prompt where Astarion slips into a proper sleep when Tav strokes his hair instead of going into an elven trance.

Astarion can feel the walls of brick closing in on him again. The air is sweet, rank, almost intoxicating and damp, so thick with moisture that he may as well be wading in the rotting breath of the house that has swallowed him. He has walked this path thousands of times before, knows it better than the tumblers on a lock that opens at his touch, and yet the way he feels his stomach drop in silent acceptance is still a familiar presence. Compulsion carries him where his feet do not wish to take him, whisking him obediently through the labyrinthine halls until he meets his master and is forced to his knees before him.

“Will you not even deign to greet your father when you see him, boy?” Cazador doesn’t even turn to face him, doesn’t need to when the authority in his voice is enough to make his household grovel for him.

The compulsion throbs behind his head, and he replies despondently. “Master.”

“Ah, so it seems you have not entirely forgotten your place,” turning around, he sneers down at his subject, the contempt clear as he notes his posture. Terrible. “And how many times have I told you to keep. Your. Back. Straight? You are a disappointment to my name. You should be grateful that you even have a home to come back to and a family to take you in, you worthless boy.”

Astarion keeps his eyes on the ground, taking note of the rivulets carved into the cold stone floor. His mind drifts to a place far from here and the noise that Cazador makes barely registers in his mind as he straightens up, waiting for the inevitable. But it's the *pain* that brings him back again. The pain and the loss of Cazador’s compulsion as his body threatens to crumple into the ground while the cursed knife he wields bites deep into his back, across his spine.

He is being tested. Punishments will be his undoing if he moves. But his mind fights against his better judgement and he twists himself, catching the knife between his hands just so he can make it stop.

||But there's a familiar voice in the din, echoing through the room, filled with sunlight and love and concern for him. He furrows his brows, tearing his concentration between stopping his master and trying to focus on the source of the voice. It feels so warm, so inviting… so different from the eternal cold that the chambers of Cazador’s palace are shrouded in.

“Astarion! Wake up!”

These stony floors, this master, this is no longer his reality, is it? Who is he? Where is he?

The voice returns with increasing urgency. “*Please!* I’m here for you.”

Suddenly he feels restrained, warmth envelopes him and he doesn’t know whether he should be afraid or give in to it. Instinctively, he lashes out against it, fear dominating his need to survive.

“ASTARION, you’re home, you’re safe. Please.” The voice breaks and there’s an overwhelming sadness that fills him, to hear them sound like that, as though they are a part of him that he doesn’t even know yet, dragging him up and out of his mind, breaching the bubble of subconsciousness until…

Gasping, he bolts upright sweat dripping and wracked with shivers. Looking down, he sees fresh linen. He’s on a clean bed, in a room that feels luxurious compared to what he once had. He has someone beside him, crying, long red lines etched across their arms.

What had he done?

The memories of the night before return, flooding him with realisation. He had been lying across their lap, their gentle hands running through his silvery curls. Their touch had been so inviting, so tempting. He had fallen asleep, slipping into the turbulent current of an uncontrolled dream. And now he had hurt the one person who had promised to stand by him through everything.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, closing his arms around them, his hands running over the welts he had created on their skin. “I… I was dreaming. That I was back with Cazador. There’s no excuse for this. I’m so sorry…”

Would you push him away now? Had he ruined the one good thing he had attained?

Dread filled the pit of his stomach as he waited for the inevitable. Yet it never came. Gentle hands swiped away at his tears, lingering on his cheeks with affection. Confusion clouded him and through the blurriness of tears, he could see them smiling.

“I’m just glad you’re home.”

What had he done to deserve this at all, he wondered.

#astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #angst with a happy ending

[bbodiless]

BABY DADDY! | Toji x Reader

first post, somethin' i thought of while writing :3

Toji has always been toxic and overly possessive, quite problematic.

He absolutely HATED seeing you even talk to other men, even when you guys broke up. For example, he came to pick up the baby and saw an unidentified man in your house, playing GTA on the PS4 in your living room.

He didn't even bat an eyelash before pushing you aside and stepping in to verbally—almost physically—assault the man.

"The fuck is this, y/n? Already fuckin' another dude?" he would say.

But today was different. He had come over to pick up Megumi, your kid, and noticed a white 'wife-beater' on the floor of your apartment.

"Aw, hey baby," he cooed at Megumi as he crouched to get eye-level with him. He looked behind Megumi as something caught his eye, the tanktop on your floor.

"Megumi, go grab your bag f' me, 'kay?" he commanded with a gentle tone to Megumi. He obeyed immediately, eagerly sprinting to his room.

As soon as Megumi was out of listening distance, Toji stood up from his crouch slowly, beginning to tower over you.

"Who was here, y/n? Who the fuck," his voice began to raise. "...Was here?" he asked, his voice low and menacing.

You shake your head slowly. "No.. No one was here, Toji. Don't start this bullshit again." You back away slowly, looking up at him.

"Oh, come on..." he cooes mockingly. "I'd prefer you tell me now so we don't have to do this in front of Megumi."

"Toji, don't be an asshole. We've been broken up for two years; I’ve moved on.” You immediately regret your words, freezing at what's inevitable to come.

A crooked smile curls at the side of his mouth before his face snaps straight and serious. “Get in the fuckin’ bedroom, y/n,” he commands, gently pushing you toward your room.

As you stumble to your bedroom, you pass the innocent, clueless Megumi. “Mommy's gonna go talk to Daddy in the room, 'kay?” you say assuringly before stepping into your room and shutting the door quickly, leaving Megumi clueless.

“Get on the bed,” he commands.

“Toji— I'm not fucking do-”

“Get on the fuckin’ bed.”

You immediately get onto the bed without hesitation, positioning your ass in the air and your head in the pillow.

“That's it, always know what I want, ay?” he coos.

He leisurely steps over to the bed, positioning his hips behind you. He gently grinds himself against your clad ass, letting out a soft groan.

“Mm, can’t wait to get inside my pussy again.” He gently tugs at the waistband of your leggings.

“It's not yours anymore,” you say, gently mocking him.

Without another word, he pulls his hips off your ass, pulling down your yoga pants abruptly, revealing your bare ass and dripping cunt.

“If she isn't mine then why does she only drip like this for me, hmm?” he coos.

You groan at his arrogance, your entace throbbing despite your annoyance.

He positions his rigid cock at your entrance before ramming it inside you without warning.

“Fuck!” you yelp, immediately putting your hand over your mouth to keep the sounds muffled from Megumi’s precious ears.

He begins bouncing his hips off your ass, his cock already hitting your G-spot at every thrust.

“Who’s pussy is this, y/n?” he asks sternly.

A muffled “nuh-uh” is all you can get out with your mind being as fogged as a glass window during a hot shower.

He stopped his thrusts before giving you one harsh, punishing thrust.

“Who's fuckin’ pussy is this, y/n?” he growls.

You let out something of a moan and a wince simultaneously. “Gah-! Ngh! Y-yours, yours, Toji!” you cry out, your tight, gummy walls clenching around his cock.

A smirk you couldn’t see plays on his face in satisfaction.

“That's my girl,” he whispers, thrusting into you with his breath coming out in short bursts.

Your breathing was barely even there, hitcing for longer periods of time as the tip of his cock hit that sweet, rubbery spot in your sweet, slick cunt.

you became so needy for that certain rough fucking he only does when you've pissed him off enough; harsh hair pulling, ass smacking, choking, and any other kinky thing you can think of.

His cock throbs inside your fat cunt, making you feel every vein pulse against your walls. "Fuuuckkk.." he groaned, his voice rough and gravely.

He knew your body better than any other man. He knew what hurt in a pleasurable way and what hurt in a genuinely painful way. He knew how to reward you, punish you, and straight-up tease you.

“Ooh, god. Toji—t-too much.” He won't stop though. He keeps going, pushing the tip of his cock at that one spot that always has you going crazy.

You're so close, your tight cunny pulsing frantically. Since he knew your body so well, he could easily tell when you were close, like a 6th sense.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me who she belongs to," he says, referring to your pussy as her.

You were at the point where you couldn't even form some kind of sentence, his arm snaked around you to grasp your throat as he thrusts into you quickly & harshly, expediting your orgasm.

You cum around his cock, moaning and whining into the pillow, blabbering muffled, incoherent nonsense. “Thaaaat’s it.” he coos.

His warm, thick cum spurted onto your lower back, making a mess all over your back as it dripped.

"You always look so pretty covered in my cum," he whispered.

"Now, clean yourself up so you can say bye you your son." He said, his tone distant already.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #toji x y/n

[vase-of-lilies]

👉🏽👈🏽 i dunno how you feel about lactation but what about nat convincing wanda to take lactation pills so that she can nurse you when your feeling a bit smaller and she gets so happy from seeing you so close to her like that.

Mommy's New Trick

Pairing: Dark!Mommies!WandaNat x Little!Reader (f) (Nicknamed Tiny)

Warnings: Lactation, MD/LG, this is a pretty dark series, fluff, coercion, Wanda AND Nats mommy milkers, an argument, restrained stress position as a punishment, forced nudity, gagging, and some suggestive content, but fluffy all around!

A/N: A drabble for Into The Tiny Verse:) Girl, have you read my story titled Milk? I fricken LOVE lactation 😭 This is such a cute request 🥺 Ahh I love this!! And I hope YOU like this! :D Thanks for the request!

When Wanda and Natasha finally got a hold of you they were static when you finally gave in to your little side. Although it took some pushing, you finally accepted your true self. You still struggled to navigate with the two women by your side when in your big mind. They would leave you alone when you needed it, but they kept an eye on you with the hidden nannycam teddy bear on your shelf.

It was any other night and you had gotten into a fight with Wanda, shouting at her that you missed your brother and wanted to go home. Almost immediately she stripped you of your clothes and pulled you to a separate part of the cabin. Your wrists were tied together tightly behind your back and a ball gag was shoved into your mouth. Tears were inevitable, and they made a puddle on the floor beneath your body.

Wanda attached the rope to the ceiling and pulled it up so your arms were bent in a stressful position. Your shoulders were bent in the wrong way, and it felt like they would dislocate if you moved anywhere. God, your back was killing you. Being bent in half for an hour would do that to your back.

In the meantime, Wanda locked the door behind her and went to talk to her wife.

"Nat? Honey?" She asks into the cabin, and she hears a small hum in the bathroom. Following the sound, she smiles as she sees Natasha looking in the mirror addressing a black eye from a past mission. Carefully, Wanda wraps her arms around the redhead's waist and hugs her from behind.

"Did the little bugger pick another fight?" Nat asks, causing the woman behind her to nod.

"She misses Bucky," She lets out a soft sigh but continues. "I wish we didn't lie to him. I wish we just made it look like a disappearance. It would be so much easier to break the news."

"I agree, but let's not think about that right now. Thank you for taking care of her..." Nat smiles at her from her reflection in the mirror, and she turns around. "Could I ask you something?" She questions, looking down at her beautiful wife.

Nodding her head, happy to answer any questions, Wanda looks up at Nat. "Anything."

Reaching behind her, she grabs a pill bottle. "How would you feel about starting these? They would allow you to feed our little Tiny with these..." She softly palms Wanda's plump breasts and gently rubs her thumb over her perked nipple behind the fabric of her shirt.

Wanda gently puts her hand over Nats, squeezing them softly. She empathizes with her wife, understanding she can't breastfeed due to the surgery the Red Room did by giving her large amounts of milk-stopping medication. With love in her eyes, she connects her lips to Natashas.

"I- I would have to think about it... Is it temporary?" Wanda asks.

"Of course. You can take them when you want to feed Y/n, and then stop when you are wanting to stop." Nat says.

Wanda considers for just a moment and nods softly. "Alright, I would love to pipe down on those pesky bottles she doesn't like." She chuckles, her wife joining her in the laughter.

"Thank you, my love, really." Nat says, kissing her lover's forehead.

~~~~~~~

By the time the hour of your punishment was finished, Wanda had already taken the pill to start her lactation process. While she prepared your mushroom tent in the corner of your nursery, Natasha went to collect you from the darkroom (closet) you were kept in.

"Little one?" She whispers as she approaches you from behind, her hand smoothing over the skin of your ass. You jump at her touch, not expecting so gentle. A whimper escapes your gagged lips when you feel Natasha untying your wrists and helping you to the floor, your legs much too weak to hold themselves.

"Are you a hungry girl?" Your mama whispers as she cups your cheek and wipes away your tears. You nod, your time in the room causing you to turn little once again. It's fear that is your trigger. Being scared is what pushes your mind into a space that needs to be protected.

"Good girl, let's go get you some milk... sound like a plan?" She asks, and you nod again. She reaches behind your head and unbuckles the gag, pulling it from your lips. As she pulls it out, some drool drips onto your chest and Nat chuckles. "Well, let's get you cleaned up first. What jammies do you want to wear tonight?"

Only mumbles and babbles come out. "Bee-bee," You say softly as you are lifted from the ground and lay in Natasha's arms.

"You want your bumble bee jammies?" You nod at her understanding you and hide your face in her chest.

Entering your nursery, you see Wanda in the tent with your favorite toy lion. You reach for it as you whine, but Nat lays you on your bed first. "We gotta get you dressed, tiny," She smiles and boops your nose.

Now, with your black and yellow-striped onesie on, you smile as you see yourself in the mirror. The wings on the back flapping as your mommy carries you to your tent. Laying you down in your mommy's lap, Wanda holds you gently. "Are you sorry for yelling at mommy?" She asks, her voice filled with sternness and gentleness combined.

You nod as you look up at her, and whisper a soft "Sowwy, mommy, I reawwy sowwy..." Your voice is just too cute for Wanda to resist, and she kisses your forehead.

"Good girl. Now are you hungry? I could hear your tummy rumbling from all the way over here!" She tickles your belly softly, making you giggle and curl against yourself.

Once you calm down and begin looking around for your favorite bottle. Your brows furrow when you aren't able to find sight of it, Looking up at your mommy for help, she smiles and removes her silk robe revealing her beautiful, ample breasts. You tilt your head and sniffle out of boredom.

"Dinner is served, little one." Wanda says, gently leading her breast to your lips, her nipple prodding against them. You obey, pushing any questions to the back of your head. Once the milk starts to flow into your mouth, your eyes widen and you look up at Wanda again.

"Is mommy feeding you now?" Wanda says with a smile, her nails softly scratching your scalp. "Do you like that?" She looks up at Nat when you nod.

"I love this image..." Nat says, holding her fingers in a frame-like- square. Wanda laughs, and kisses your forehead once again, your hands clutching onto your little lion and your eyes closing as you doze off.

Both women could get used to this...

#wandanat x reader #wandanat x little reader #dark!wandanat x reader #mommy!wandanat x little!reader #into the tiny verse #the toy lion the scarlet witch and tiny in the wardrobe #Wanda maximoff x reader x Natasha Romanoff #wandanat x female reader #may answers asks #fragilepuppi #luna :)

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 4 - Consequences (To Meeting Kyle For Coffee)

Let's keep this party going.

Slasher Handler Masterlist

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Under-negotiated kink, impact play (spanking with hand), use of gag, fear play, afab reader, feminine terms used for reader, brief manual penetration

The ride back to your apartment is silent. Eerily silent, because Simon is making so much noise. You can hear him breathing, deep and even. His fingers tap idly on the steering wheel and gearshift. The radio plays something jazzy, a singer who’s voice he likes crooning about being in love. He hums a couple of bars.

“How much trouble am I in?” you whisper, halfway home.

“That depends, luv,” he says. “Why’d you schedule to meet him this morning?”

You bite your lip, consider the consequences of lying. Decide to tell the truth. “You tell me you go to the gym on Tuesdays, but you don’t. You follow me to the park.”

Simon makes an amused sound. “Do I?”

“You make the dogs nervous,” you tell him. “And sometimes the squirrels run up from behind me on the path, if they’re not in a tree already. So… I thought I’d ask to meet him. I thought he wouldn’t say anything if you were right there. And,” you admit. “I thought you’d try to keep me from meeting him, if I told you.”

“So you did it, knowing it was against the rules,” Simon says, serene like a glacier.

“It’s not against the rules,” you point out, crossing your arms over your chest. “You said I have to keep my routine. Tuesdays are my mornings out of the apartment. You said not to do anything reckless, so I met an old friend at a coffee shop. You said not to do anything without your knowledge, and you have been going through my phone and reading my messages since before your last lesson. You knew, Simon Riley, and I haven’t done anything against the rules.”

By the end, your voice is high and frantic and there are tears welling up. You hate it. Hate that he loves your eyes full of tears, so you turn to face out of the window. You’re so tired. Staring down the inevitability of the push-pull of trying to keep control, knowing that the rules don’t really matter if he doesn’t want to play by them, you barely restrain a sob.

“Aw,” Simon drawls, and you can see his smirk in your mind’s eye. “What are those tears? Haven’t even punished you yet.”

When you do make it to the apartment, you’re slow to get out of the car. You dally before entering the building. You hesitate at the bottom of the stairs. You watch Simon watch you think about running. You shouldn’t run, you know, but you turn halfway, look back at the improbable escape route, each time. He tilts his head and gives a rough equivalent of an indulgent coo. You want to punch him in his smug face. You take the first stair.

Simon matches your slow pace, two steps behind and hugging the wall. Even if you didn’t know you were walking to your (hopefully) metaphorical death, it would be a deeply disturbing experience. When you’re not facing him, you almost can’t hear him. The stairs barely creak under his weight. Every now and then, you think you can feel him touch your back, your sleeve. You refuse to play that game with him. The refusal doesn’t make it feel less dangerous.

You stop at your door. Simon gives you a solid nudge toward his.

You’ve only ever been in his apartment once before. Four weeks ago. After the ski-lodge-turned-blood-bath.

Just like the first time, you’re surprised and disturbed by how normal it is. A mirror flip of your unit, the kitchen and living room are bland off white and beige. Simon shuffles you over to the big, brown couch, hand firm between your shoulder blades when your feet don’t want to move.

“Sit,” he says. So you sit. You hate how nice the cushions are. He stares down at you, head cocked, eyes cold, before stalking away into his bedroom.

The last time you were here, shaking and crying, he’d put a cuff around your ankle. You’d been chained to the foot of his bed, an anchor point under the couch, or, bafflingly, his own leg. The cuffs had been thick leather, with a very soft lining. You only tried to escape once.

It had been a miserable week.

When Simon emerges again, shutting the door firmly behind him, you think you recognize the brown leather strips in his hand. But when he holds it out for you to inspect, you feel the color drain from your face. One of them is a collar, with a shining silver tag. The other is a ball gag.

“I’m not wearing those,” you say, automatically, then cringe.

“I think you will,” Simon answers, “because if you don’t, your punishment will be doubled.”

You clench your jaw before looking up into his eyes. “That’s not fair. I didn’t break the rules.”

He chuckles, smooths a thumb over your cheek. “Stop being so cute.”

That makes you pause and narrow your eyes at him. You try again. “I don’t want to wear the gag.”

“Your apartment isn’t soundproofed, luv,” he points out, like he’s open to bargaining and being reasonable. “So unless you want to play here, in the guest room with Brandon…”

You try to snatch the collar and gag from his hand, but he catches your wrist, unnaturally quick. You glare up at him, anxiety roiling the coffee in your stomach. He caresses your face again. His hand is so warm, and his eyes are a frozen lake.

“Up,” he orders, forcing you to stand with an iron grip on your jaw. Instead of putting the collar on, he hustles you back out into the hall, then to your own door. Arches an eyebrow and says, “Well? Let us in?” like he doesn’t have a copy of the key, hasn’t been keeping you from opening your own door every day for the last month.

When you enter, he takes his time to shrug off his coat and boots. Lets you do the same. He tells you to drink some water, so you do. Dawdle by getting him a glass before following him to where he’s sat on your couch. He’s laid the collar on the arm of the sofa and is running his fingers over the gag when you approach.

“I’m going to spank you,” he says, matter of fact, without looking at you. “For drinking something offered to you by a man who knows how easy it is to poison a person.”

“It was fresh!”

“That silly, stupid little barista would have done anything Garrick asked,” Simon counters, drawing you into his lap. “Because Kyle is just that kind of man. And if you ended up in the hospital, he’d have unfettered access to you. And then you and I would have to be in a hospital again. Seems a bit soon to be repeating dates, don’t it?”

“I knew what I was doing,” you protest, but you don’t fight when he tilts your head to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“I know, you did, luv,” he agrees. “And I know Garrick - you’re not his type. But you still drank the coffee. And you still did something you knew I wouldn’t like. Spirit, not the letter, and all that. So I’m going to spank you. Then I’ll give you a reward.”

Your eyes snap to his. “R-reward?”

“Oh, I’ve got your attention now,” he chuckles. “Asked for advice for your man, didn’t you. No silly little articles about better blowjobs for you. Went to ask a killer about a killer, to help me find a hobby. Precious.”

You flush hot, all the way to your toes. “If he stopped, then you can.”

“He hasn’t stopped,” Simon says.

“He’s…” You frown. “He said he doesn’t do that anymore. He took up gardening.”

Simon wraps a hand around your throat, dead eyes boring into yours with a smile. “Not everyone likes going all the way to a ski lodge in the middle of nowhere, luvie. I wouldn’t’ve if you weren’t so damn sweet. Garrick works at a hospital because hobbies are so much easier in your backyard.”

He gives you a few quiet moments to think back, play Kyle’s words back in your mind. If you’re honest with yourself, it’s not a surprise. You’d hoped, and you heard what you wanted to hear.

“Open your mouth,” Simon instructs, when he’s done waiting.

“How will I safeword?” At his unimpressed stare, you double down.

“I’m not playing without a safeword. It’s bad for both of us.”

“You are the most stubborn, odd, little duck,” he says, and kisses the corner of your mouth again.

“I want to feel safe,” you insist, without pushing him away. You remember how his pupils had practically swallowed his irises once, before everything went wrong, when you told him he makes you feel safe. After a moment of thought, you add on, “Safer. Safe-ish.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You think you’re clever.”

You arch an eyebrow right back. “Pretty sure that’s why I’m getting punished.”

That gets him. Simon barks a laugh, and some of the tension leaves both of you. “Snap your fingers twice and I’ll check in with you.”

You snap your fingers twice. “And then you’ll stop?”

“If you’ve learned your lesson,” Simon answers cryptically, bringing the gag to your lips.

Simon being cryptic means you’re back on familiar ground, so you open your mouth. He dips his thumb in to press down on your tongue, unexpectedly, and doesn’t let you flinch away. When he leans in to lick into your mouth, you let him, even open your mouth a slight bit wider. He rumbles his approval, kisses at your upper lip like that, until your spit is dripping down his wrist. Then his thumb is gone and replaced by solid rubber that sits behind your teeth.

He makes quick work of buckling it in place, careful not to pull your hair or secure it too tight. His care is familiar, in an odd terrible way. Back when he was just your weird neighbor, he’d been very careful to never hurt you. In his apartment, he’d never hurt you except for very intentionally. Once, the third week after the ski-lodge, you’d cut yourself with some cardboard packaging and he’d been so gentle and meticulous in cleaning and bandaging you up. He’d choked you on his cock, later that night, the whole time holding your hand up and away to keep it from getting dirty.

Now, he holds up the collar for you to see the tag. It’s a heart. Now that you can see it properly, it’s not really a dog tag, more of a simple pendant. You’re looking at the back, where it’s simply stamped with his phone number. He flips it to show you the stone inlaid on the front, a pretty green. Then he wordlessly secures the soft leather around your neck.

When he’s done, he just breathes against the side of your face. His hands knead at your skin, one where your neck meets your shoulders, the other on your inner thigh. You feel where he’s hard against your hip. You shiver.

“Sweet, precious, clever thing,” he whispers, moving one hand to wrap entirely around your throat. “See the good in everyone. My kind-hearted girl.”

And then you’re up in the air, flipped, and over his lap so fast you get dizzy with it. Your heart rate rockets, and you try to get your legs under you. He’s there, of course, elbow between your shoulder blades and one hand yanking your pants and underwear down to mid thigh. You kick, uselessly, startled when he runs a hand over the sensitive place where your ass meets your thighs.

He starts without preamble, hand cracking down hard, but not as hard as you know he could. Tears instantly jump to your eyes, and you clamp your teeth down on the gag around a quiet groan. His answering groan is loud, appreciative. And then he hits you again, and again, and again.

Around the twelfth hit, you realize that he never told you how many he was going to give you. Your ass is on fire, tears and drool and snot streaming down your face. His hand is unrelenting. Worse, there’s no pattern, so the strikes are unpredictable. And you have no idea how long you’re going to be here.

You’re suddenly seized by a thought: Will he actually stop if you snap your fingers?

The first hiccuping sob shakes your body, and just like that, you lose control. You can’t stop sobbing, and he gathers you somehow closer into his body. He’s hard against your ribs. The hand not spanking you grips bruises into your opposite hip. He growls something you can’t hear over your own moans and sniffles, and then his hand is no longer spanking but rubbing. His fingers find where you’re slick, rub down and forward to find the bump of your clit.

You buck in his hands with a startled cry, and he slaps at you, gentle but startling. He hikes your hips up, and it’s awkward. You’re balanced in his arms, braced on his left leg and one foot when he pushes a finger into you. He bites, too hard, at your ass, and you squeal, thrash.

And then he’s taking his finger out, lowering you back down to his lap with gentle strokes up and down your spine. You get your breathing under control enough to hear him shushing you, praising you. You try to gulp air, eventually figure out how to regulate your breathing around the gag.

“Pretty girl,” Simon eventually coos. “See, didn’t need to tap out. Not that kind of lesson today.” When you whimper, he turns you and gets you settled on your back on the couch. He crouches down between the couch and the coffee table to wipe your eyes and nose with a couple of tissues. He leaves your mouth messy.

With a kiss to the apple of your cheek, he says, “I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

You nod with a whimper. You’re not 100% sure what lesson you’ve learned. But you’ve learned it.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Then lets get you ready for your reward.”

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #cod #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #dark fic #simon riley x you #slasher handler #simon riley x you smut #manic pixie dream ghost

[vampyrsm]

‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | YOMI

‣‣ Synopsis: Our Tale continues with the captured Zen'in diving into her very own personal version of Yomi; The Land of the Dead. Here she will face death, will she be strong enough to conquer it? Or will she simply be forced to her knees and succumb to what Fate has decided for her?

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 7.5k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, cannibalism, death, cursed spirits, fighting scenes, blood and gore, cursed energy usage.

Darkness. Infinite and finite. Inky blackness that you could sink your fingers into and find yourself lost at sea, floating, lost—forever. It moves and bends around you, welcomes you with icy cold fingers that grasp at your arms. An inescapable embrace of none other than Death herself.

You couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, if you had even lifted your arm in the first place. You couldn’t feel a thing either. Your back felt as if it were simultaneously on fire and pressed against ice, it burned in more ways than one. The fall had done more damage than you’d expected, you could feel the sticky blood that had dried down the side of your face; no doubt still minutely trickling from the gash somewhere in your hairline. 

A fall like that would’ve killed anyone, no doubt. Sugawara had spoken to you briefly before he had shoved you down into that all-consuming darkness, he spoke as if you were to be faced with Death here. Did he expect the fall to kill you or something else?

Something shifts in the darkness, the sound of flesh dragging along the stone. You don’t make a sound, nor do you move an inch when that sound continues to grow louder and more frequent. Multiple things lingered in the dark down here, things that you had only become intimately to know recently. 

You could taste their foul energy on the back of your tongue; tainted and impure. It belonged to none other than a curse, and here you are, surrounded by multiple curses that had waited for you to stir awake before they inevitably tore you apart.

The neck brace at your throat no longer burned, your cursed energy unleashed and bubbling at the tips of your fingers. Yet you knew even with the return of your cursed energy, you could not use it to escape here. Something at the back of your mind hissed at the talisman that was pressed into the walls of the pit you had been thrown into.

Scraping claws and flesh grow closer and closer until the darkness becomes tangible, misfigured shadowed figures that loom over you. This close you could scent them, death and rot, mud and rain. These weren’t your ordinary curses, because besides the obvious smell of decay — you could also smell a type of dampness you had come to recognise in the last few days locked away.

These were all once victims of the Shogun too. Cursed and transformed into the very thing he sought to vanquish, they were kept here to punish those who openly defied the Shogun.

His own men. Turned into nothing but mindless creatures that gargled when they opened their horrendous mouths, or harboured multiple eyes that would forever be witness to the atrocity they had turned into.

You’d kill him. You’d make him suffer for what he did and what he continued to do. Perhaps he too should be cursed upon his death, to be turned into something so weak in comparison to the title of Shogun. But first, you had to stop the slaughter that was about to occur.

You find the strength to finally lift your arm, and that coiling familiar feeling in your gut purrs at the idea of being used to extract punishment on something as lowly as a cursed spirit. The gangly creature that had dared to come close to you screeches at the pain, arching backwards and stumbling into what must be more curses as they all begin to scramble.

Their noises, the voices of the damned repeating over and over their last words. It’s enough of a distraction to hurl yourself up off of the floor, the pain you had once felt eradicated as quickly as it had appeared. Your cuts and bruises disappear into nothing, the scars however remain. You wish to hold onto them, a reminder you told yourself—to kill those who defiled your body.

Another swipe of your arm has their screeches choked in blood, the scent of a rotting corpse is enough to make your stomach churn. But it’s soon washed away by the taste of your imminent victory, to finally win at something, to succeed in fighting your way out instead of rotting in the corner of a damp dark cell. It was addicting.

Bodies slump and crumble to the floor in nothing but a heap of slowly decomposing flesh, bodies that soon stop their high-pitched gurgling screams. Those who still live turn their attention back to the source of their agony; you. They come at you in waves, crawling from their god-forsaken corners and with such little cursed energy in comparison to your own—they throw themselves at you. 

A wet hand grasps at your throat, sinking cracked nails into the flesh on either side of the useless collar at your throat. The pain doesn’t bother you anymore, you can’t feel the blood that it draws you from.

That curling darkness boils up from deep within, it scratches at the surface with sharpened claws and glistening teeth—let go, it bellows, until you too can feel your mouth opening to bare your newfound fangs; sharpened canines that were made for fighting, for surviving. 

The flesh you bite into isn’t that of the same calibre of human, it’s not as rich or candescent. It’s foul, rotted, it smells of something awful. Yet you continue to bite at the foolish cursed spirit who tried to choke you, to suppress you further in a world that has tried to snuff you from existence from the very start. 

The spirit grasped between your teeth screams something that sounds too far from a human, yet it still satisfies that part of your mind that bows to that violent darkness within.

You bite until it lets go, and then do you plant your hand on the chest of the mangled beast. Its body is deformed, flesh and bone curled around what was once the man's body armour. It vanishes in the next breath, nothing but a heap of meat on the floor to be forgotten. 

There’s no pause between the kill and another when something from the darkness lunges at you, it comes naturally to only raise two fingers in that direction before they’re blown back into nothing but misted blood and goop. Something deep within grabs at you, it clings to your very being and sinks its claws into you further than it ever had before.

Don’t worry, it whispers, soon you will be found.

“That’s enough.” A voice, coherent and clear, calls out from the darkness. It chills the boiling violence within until it’s nothing but a frozen chasm in your soul. Your hand still raised yet unmoving takes the blow you should’ve stopped, you feel the flesh and bone snap under the weight of a mouth with far too many teeth.

They raze through your flesh until you feel your weight shift, unbalanced and too light. Your blood is scorching against your chilled skin, and yet you still do not move. Arm missing and heart racing erratically, you stare into the darkness when steps grow closer and closer.

“I said, that is enough.” The voice scolds, and it’s enough to have you stumbling backwards a single step. “Even with such power, you’re a disgrace.”

Those spoken words rattle against your bones, and reverberate down into the pit of your stomach where perhaps if you had been given food—it would be on the floor with the spilled guts and blood of the cursed spirits. Heat shoots down your shoulder, along the newly forming bone and at the tip of your fingers you’re gifted sight finally. 

Fire blossoms at the tips of your fingers, and with a swipe of your hand in the direction of the voice—

You fall to your knees. Your heart aches violently in your chest, a battle between who you are now and who you once were. 

“No child of mine should be on her knees. You are a disappointment.” 

Your father. Cursed. He stands before you as the man he once was but also not. He’s taller, a skeleton of the man you knew him as. After the revelation that Sukuna had been the one to kill your father, you hadn’t questioned him as to why there was no body—you assumed that he was eaten, consumed for his flesh and the energy he possessed. 

Yet he stands before you, stringy flesh stretched far too thin across his chest. You can see no rise to his chest, no beating heart that struggles within a cage of bone and flesh. He was truly dead, and they had cursed him. Brought him back as something much worse, he hadn’t returned as a simple curse. 

He was too smart, too coherent and the wave of cursed energy that rolled off of him when he met your gaze was suffocating. 

Something cold and metallic tilts your head upwards, until you’re forced to stare down the bridge of your nose at the blade barely visible in the waning firelight still burning at your fingertips. Your father regards you with nothing but contempt, a rageful silence that you had been on the receiving end of time and time again as a child.

“You are not my daughter.” He snarls, and the skin on his face visibly stretches with his words. How long had he been locked in here to rot away even as a being of immortality? “A Samurai does not die on his knees. Get up and fight me, child.”

The blade that was once tipping your chin up clatters to the floor, your father fading from the light you produced until he was shrouded once again in the darkness. The offered blade is different from the one you inherited from your father inadvertently, it’s much too light to be considered his. It held no cursed energy, no imprint from your living father.

With one hand wrapped around the hilt, you use it to help yourself stand up from the ground. Blood and other bodily matters stick to your skin, a stench that would haunt you until the very day you die burns at your nose. Your feet slide through that same gore, your position shifting into one you had adopted so many years ago—the very one you had attempted to use on Sukuna that fateful night. 

You raise your arms up, a bicep covering the lower half of your face, and the sword raised above your head. You take in a deep breath, the hand lit with fire inching closer to the hilt of the blade until that light vanishes and you’re plunged into darkness that now feels more dangerous than it ever had before. 

Training whilst blindfolded was something you had endured as a child. You were told to become one with the blade, to use it as an extension of one's self. You need no eyes if the blade guides you, you only had to strike true and hard—there was no time for mistakes, no time for hesitation. Hesitation meant death. 

Without missing a beat. Your father strikes first.

He appears directly in front of you, a gust of self-made wind blowing you back just a step. You have no time to react, no time to even move when his blade comes up at you from a low-striking position. It collides with your blade, poorly deflecting his attack. But it doesn’t stop him. You can hear his feet shifting, sliding through the mess on the floor and you know what’s to come next—

His entire body spins, and the long haori he had draped over his body whips around his body. You only have a split second to twist your wrist, dropping a hand from the hilt so that you can turn the blade enough to collide with his own, they scrape noisily together with enough force that sparks trickle down the length of the blade. 

You push back, enough to break the stalemate hold over your own blade. It gives you room to breathe, to suck in a deep breath and steady your mind. But you are given no reprieve, no moment to think through your next attack. Sukuna had been going easy on, you realise, when your father effortlessly strikes at you in succession. 

It’s proving harder with each passing second to keep up with his movement, he possesses a speed that defies everything you know. Even when you pour out your own cursed energy in return, it is nothing in the face of a man who was known to be the fastest Samurai warrior in the whole of Japan. He was the Shogun for a reason. 

And that was before he had been granted an unlimited amount of cursed energy, speed and strength that would rival even Sukuna. 

He had become the monster you always saw him as. 

His blade slices like you were made of paper, it glides along your skin and digs deep in under a second. You’re struck with the pain before your body is thrown backwards into the abyssal darkness, wet and clammy hands grasp at your shoulders. Yet this time, they do not grab you to eat you or harm you. Instead—they throw you back into the fray. 

Even in Death, his loyal servants bow their heads to him. 

“You’re better than you had once been.” Your father's voice comments from somewhere in the dark. “Has that bastard trained you to fight?”

“No.” You snarl back, wiping a hand along your lips when you taste the copper there. “That would’ve been you, General.”

Condescension had never been a tribulation your father had faced in his living life, and evidently, he would not take such a tone from a woman of all things. He launches himself forward from the darkness, his blade drawn and poised to strike in a clean arc along your chest. You can only bring your own katana around to collide with his own, but something shifts within his cursed energy.

It duplicates.

There’s a single second, a pause in time and you feel your heart thunder at the feeling that bubbles over the violence within. It’s fear, you come to recognise, a feeling you had felt so many times before but this was different. It was the type of fear that came moments before death.

The air around you explodes, an expansion of cursed energy that slices at you from every direction. You feel the smooth glide of your father's katana against every inch of your skin simultaneously. You didn’t even see it coming, a move that should’ve been so easy to recognise and yet it blindsided you enough that you grow numb to the sensation of your flesh being flayed. 

“You continue to hesitate as you did as a child. That’s why you’ll die here today.” The onslaught of slashes on your body stop, and the coldness of his bloodied blade stings against the exposed muscle along the back of your neck. “Beheaded by a curse. How disappointing.” 

The blade you had been given slips between your bloodied fingers, clattering loudly in the otherwise silent pit. He had won and you didn’t even have a chance to fight back—to die to your father was worse than to die at the hands of the current Shogun. He would succeed in his plan of killing you, you’d be nothing but a smudge of ink on a page. A disgrace forgotten and scratched from existence. 

He hesitates, that darkness whispers into your ear, use it.

With what strength you retain in your arms, the muscles and nerves scream and burn in protest at being forced to move. Perhaps you would fail even to do this, as the pain is enough to cause your eyes to flutter close and your body slumps slightly with the effort.

“Fascinating.” Your father comments, however, the blade at your neck doesn’t move an inch. “You have grown in strength, even if just a little.” 

“Domain Expansion: Warrior’s Valour.”

The world around you expands rapidly, that coldness at your neck is replaced with the smoothness of a kimono you had been given by Sukuna—the one he had you wear when you were announced as his “wife”. The crisp white is a stark difference against the bloodied water at your feet, it ripples from where you now stand until it laps at the feet of your father. 

He stands before you instead, highlighted by the use of your cursed energy. Yet he does not look like the cursed spirit you had seen only mere minutes ago, instead, you see your father. The face he wears is the one you had seen before he sent you away, his body covered in his traditional samurai armour. 

You were no longer looking at the vengeful spirit of your father, but instead his soul. He stands in the domain of your creation yet it’s different from when you had last used it. There’s no field of red lilies at your feet, as they seem to be sparsely spotted around the sea of blood. 

A curious glance over your shoulder proves further that your domain had changed significantly with the new binding vow between yourself and Sukuna. Behind the Torii gate you stand beneath, there is a shrine. One of large bovine-shaped skulls and teeth; a mocking of a shrine made for a God and was instead a shrine for a demon.

“I see.” Your father draws your attention back to him, his eyes drifting away from the shrine behind you. “Despite how much I trained, I had never mastered a Domain.” 

Your father slowly lowers himself down onto his knees, and then into a kneeling seated position with his hands placed on top of his thighs. He looked weak like this, on his knees before you awaiting punishment.

And even in the face of certain death, he smiles at something. “I should’ve listened to your mother. She warned me that you would become my undoing, so I dismissed her—I was a mighty warrior, I would not crumble at the feet of my own child. Perhaps that is why the Gods took her from me, I didn’t heed their warning.” 

He laughs, and your chest constricts at the lack of emotion. “When we lost your mother, I thought she had cursed me with the challenge of raising a daughter I didn’t know how to raise. So I did the one thing I knew how to do. I raised a Samurai instead, and look at what happened.” 

“Mother would’ve hated what you became.”

“She hated me before that. Our marriage was not one of love, but convenience. Her family was dying and I was in need of an heir. Yet she did not give me one and her family still died.” His head lowers to stare blankly at his upturned palms, as if he could see the blood that had stained him for years.

“Why did the Emperor want me dead?” You ask before you can hold your tongue, and your father visibly bristles at your words. 

“He told me your mother was right. My undoing, the sword at my neck, the plague that would last for one thousand years. You. You were all of that, and I had to kill you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” You didn’t, how could one man know all of that information? It was impossible. 

“You don’t have to. It is done. You’re as cursed as I am, and you will die for it. Not by my sword, but your own. I am sorry that I couldn’t save you from such a fate.” His eyes close when he tilts his body forward more until his head is pressed just at the surface of the bloodied water and his hands cushion his forehead. 

He no longer spoke, and instead, he awaited his punishment—his penance for failure. And so, to honour his final wish to die as he wanted, you approach him. The blood wades at your feet and laps at the edge of the otherwise pristine kimono until you’re stood at his side. Your father does not move, he doesn’t move an inch when you find a sword in your hand and pressed to the back of his neck. 

“When we meet again, I hope it’s at the stream beside Mother’s favourite tree.” You comment, and you try not to focus on the way your father’s body shakes with a muted sob. “Until then. Rest well, father.” 

His words do not come forth, his goodbyes left unsaid as you raise the sword and strike smoothly. His head falls from his shoulders, dropping into the sea of blood at your feet where it openly accepts the offering of another death, another soul to add to its endless bank.

The domain fades away almost immediately, and at your feet is the body of your cursed father. His head detached and body stuck in a permanent bow. His words stung you as much as they confused you. He had told you that you were always destined for this life, to become a disaster for those who would encounter you. 

Did he want to kill you out of love, to stop you from enduring the pain you had so far in such a short amount of time? Or did he want to save his own legacy, to ensure that you were not a curse that plagued the Zen’in clan for centuries to come? 

You would never find out the truth. 

Purple flames burst up from his bowed body, so brilliantly bright that you can see the entire room for the first time. The walls are lined with cursed spirits, all of which are staring directly at you. Millions of eyes all watching, observing, waiting for your next move. 

You take a step, and they hold their breath. Something curls like the smoke of a fire deep in your chest, this feeling—it was something you had wanted as a child. When you had seen your father as the Mighty Shogun, his armies of Samurai who’d bow in his presence and not dare to look him in the eye. This feeling was power. Unbridled power, and you forgot just how powerful you are.

There’s no anger that corrodes your heart, no pain or sadness that you had removed the head of your father. Everything feels… still. Right. Acceptance perhaps would be the correct word to use, but there was nothing left to accept. You had come to terms with the terrible man your father was, and he had only furthered bolstered your hatred for him. 

A glance towards the entrance where you had been thrown shows there are no locks on the door, they were simply waiting to be opened. No one was meant to survive a fall into the pit, and that alone should have angered you. Yet, nothing came forth. 

Another step, and the room shifts with you. Dragged feet and heavy stomps follow you through the room, up towards the steep stairs where you come to another standstill. You turn to find the curses had surged forward, not to attack; but to follow. They stare at you with wide eyes, twitching fingers and you wonder just how much of their consciousness is left to follow the one they deem ‘the strongest’.

It would never surmount to the army of men they once would’ve been a part of, but it was an army nonetheless. They would die, and they would suffer greatly at the hands of the living men beyond this door but it would serve as a warning; a message to the Shogun and those who surround him that not even the cursed spirit of your father would be enough to take you down.

As you approach the door, you press your hand to the wood. It takes no less than half a heartbeat before numerous deep cut lines appear on the door—and then it explodes outwards into the hallway you had been dragged down. 

Silence follows the explosion of wood, a tension that waits to be snapped. Your foot crosses over the threshold and immediately you feel that caged darkness within burst forward. It’s enough to make you take a deep breath of relief. Here you were unrestrained, and the taste of freedom was almost as good as the blood that still coated the back of your throat. 

Your feet are saturated in blood, a trail of bloodied footprints follow you as you traverse through the dark corridor. You knew they were aware of you surviving their failed attempt of snuffing out your light, they would’ve felt the second your cursed energy roared to life. 

The weight of the katana in your hand feels heavier than it should, exhaustion is going to hit you soon. Pushing back against something that tried to nullify your cursed energy altogether had drained you more than you realised, and now outside of that place where it tried to silence you—you can feel the toll it has taken on you.

A creek of a wooden door has you turning to glance over your shoulder, the gathering of following curses stop to clear the view of who was unfortunate enough to walk through that door. A man freezes within the doorframe, his hand trembles at his side; too frightened to raise his hand and draw his blade.

You only blink and you’re standing before him, so close you can feel the shaky breath that escapes his gaping mouth. You recognise this one, he was the one who hit you hard enough that blood pooled beneath your skin for days; it was a pain to heal. 

A grin blossoms on your face at the scent of his fear. 

“You—”

Your fingers hardly brush against the hilt of the blade you had dragged with you from that pit, a burst of pointed energy that has the man before you choking on his words. The blood blossoms at his side, not deep enough to cause immediate danger but enough that it should eventually cause him to bleed out. 

Another slice of your blade that’s otherwise invisible to the naked eye has him falling back the way he came, his hands slipping through the spilt blood in a vain attempt to push himself away; out of your reach. You raise your blade this time so he can see it, the tip of it poised to strike at his heart. 

“W-Wait! Please!” He begs, a man who had laughed at your agony… begs. 

That delights you. 

Yet, you still surge forward—and your sword misses its mark. You plant it into his shoulder, shoving him down until he’s forced flat onto his back and you loom over him. He screams in agony, no doubt soon he would alert the others of his plight but you don’t remove the blade—not yet.

“What was it you said to me?” You lean in closer, putting more pressure on the katana until it twists. “Oh, yes, you said I was good for nothing but a beating and a nasty fuck.” 

His nostrils flare at your words, tears rolling uselessly from his eyes. 

“I should slice you into ribbons. Feed you your own cock to show you how little it really is.” He squirms beneath your sword, and you twist it once again until he screams himself hoarse. “But you deserve worse.” 

Shifting your weight up, you rip the blade from his shoulder… only to bring it back down against his legs. It slices deeply, not enough to sever the limbs but enough to ensure he didn’t run. His hands grab uselessly at the gaping wounds, his fingers pressing into exposed flesh and flinching at the feeling of his own exposed bone. 

“Scream well, they like it.”

You don’t look back at the man who questions your words, nor do you look back when the horror dawns on him at the approaching horde of cursed spirits. Their delighted laughs and snickering voices drown out the man's indignant screams, only for them to be turned into gurgled sounds when they rip him apart—piece by piece. Slowly.

The corridors are deserted, and for some reason, it has your blood boiling beneath the surface of your skin. Did they not deem you enough of a threat that they hadn’t come running? You follow the faintest thread of cursed energy, faded footsteps that had been left behind some time ago. 

A door is ajar at the end of the corridor, and you can feel the outside breeze from where you are. That alone has you hurrying your steps, slipping only once in the blood that trailed after you. The fresh air stings against your newly remade skin, a bitter coldness that can only come with the darkness of night.

Pulling the door open slowly, you find yourself standing in a courtyard that connects the prisoner section of the estate to the main building. It’s grand, open and wide with beautiful trees and shrubbery that had been attended to by the servants of the Zen’in clan.

But it’s not the beautiful scenery that has you stopping. It’s the gathering of men and women in front of you, their laughs and joyous yelling is the only thing you can hear over the rapid beating of your heart. They’re celebrating. 

Lanterns are lit, as well as a generously lit pyre in the centre of it all. You can scent the sake on the breeze that brushes against you once again. To let your guard down and drink… they must’ve believed you to be truly dead. They were celebrating the death of the exiled Zen’in—one they never considered part of their clan in the first place. All because you were born a woman.

A glance to your side shows just how close you are to the large estate walls, the tops of mountains loom in the distance. You could escape, get out before Sukuna showed up and fell into the trap they had formulated by capturing you. You could stop the inevitable from happening. 

Instinctively, you take a step forward towards that wall. Your eyes blink away the grime and blood that had clouded your mind, this could be it. You could get away—

Why are you running away, that dark voice snarls in the back of your mind. Do you forget what they did to you?

“No,” you whisper out loud to a voice none but yourself can hear.

Then turn around and prove their fears right, it’s a voice you’ve come to connect with the part of your soul that had been corroded away and bound to Sukuna. Kill them all.

Invisible hands curl like icy tendrils around your arms, they pull you until you take steps back from the wall—from your freedom. The celebration is otherwise undisturbed, the drunkards unaware of the looming threat that stands in the darkness of the building. Hidden from the judgement of the moon. 

A stumbling man has your attention drawn away from the main gathering of people. His eyes are glazed over, drunk and unaware that he’s stumbling closer and closer to the open maw of a starved wolf. He reeks of sake and sweat, no doubt celebrating for hours it would seem. They fully anticipated your death, to be free of the curse that was bestowed upon them.

He stumbles directly into you, reeling back at the realisation he had bumped into a person and not the door he was seeking. “Hey!” He slurs, eyes hardly open when they squint at your face. “Move out of the way, you foolish woman—”

Slowly, those squinted eyes widen and the glaze of his eyes clears momentarily when he appraises just what you look like. Drenched head to toe in both blood of your own and your enemies, it mixes in with the stained ripped kimono you were forced into during your prison stay. The sword at your side points down at the ground, still shimmering in the purple cursed blood of your father. 

His nostrils flare and his mouth opens to scream, to yell that they had failed to realise you were stronger than they pinned you for. But you’re the one who moves first, his body collides with the floor hard enough to wind him. 

Despite being drunk, the man throws his weight upwards in hopes of dislodging you from his torso. Your knees dig painfully into the ground at his sides, and you’re forced to place your hands around his throat to hold him down to the ground beneath you. It was only a matter of time, mere seconds until someone noticed the commotion in the waning shadows of the building behind you.

Unable to restrain him further, he resorts to trying to push you away. His fingers sink into the flesh of your cheeks, dragging sharp untrimmed nails deep enough to draw skin and muscle apart. He scrambles to push harder, to dig deeper, when you start putting more pressure on his throat. 

His fingers scratch at your eyes, the sharp pain that follows is enough to drive you forward. You crush his throat into the ground, the snapping of his spinal cord is a satisfying ripple that bounces down the length of your very own spine. He still breathes, however, albeit in a ragged way like that of an injured animal.

With blood in your eyes, and skin torn apart on your face, you lean into that feeling of pleasure, of joy, of hunger. You’d been starved for far too long.

He doesn’t scream when you lurch forward—can’t. Can’t air his pain when your teeth sink into the flesh of his cheek, sharpened canines that you’d known to exist there bite through the muscle and fat of his face as if it were nothing but flimsy meat. You pull your head back in one smooth motion, the rip and tear of his skin is lost to the sound of the festivities just a few feet away. 

The man still lives. You can see his teeth through the now open wound of his face, and you chew on the flesh of the man in front of you. The blood that washes down your throat and coats your skin is hot, a comforting warmth that you had not yet been given the chance to experience firsthand. 

His flesh is tough, stringy and chewy all in one but you do not stop eating, working your way through that patch of flesh in your mouth until it’s all gone. Then, when the man is on the verge of dying from blood loss, you smile down at him. With blood smeared across your teeth and the wounds on your face starting to heal, you lean down to his face once again. 

He must believe in his final moments that you’d take another bite from him, as he squirms under your body. You tighten that grip on his throat, squeezing and squeezing until you feel the tips of your fingers join—and then you pull.

His head comes free from his shoulders, a spray of blood that soaks into the muddied ground. He lies still beneath you, the warmth of his skin melts through your sorry excuse of a kimono. It wasn’t enough, you realise, that ravenousness inside of you grows only in intensity at the first taste of human flesh.

Fresh human flesh.

Your fingers sink into the hair atop of the man’s now detached head, and you stand up—over your prey. You glance away from the kill and towards the crowd of people; undisturbed, unaware, unafraid. You want to laugh, you want to scream but most of all, you want to feast.

A single step forward, and you disappear from the spot. They don’t even see you coming, nor do they have a moment's chance to react to the burst of cursed energy. An energy they had hoped to snuff out for good, one they hoped they would never have to face. 

Skin you pass by learns the bite of your sword and your tongue learns the taste of blood diluted with alcohol. They don’t scream at first, not until they realise what was happening. Not until they see you run your blade cleanly through three men all standing idly around the lit pyre in the centre of the courtyard.

Their upper bodies fall with a thud to the floor, and that silence that follows the death of another is only a heartbeat long before women scream, children cry and men call for arms. Chaos—uncontrolled chaos, and you. You’re the epicentre of it all.

A man comes at you from your side, his blade raised over his head in a sloppy attacking stance. His face is red with anger, or perhaps it’s just the spray of his own blood when you swipe your hand in his direction. He freezes in place, the sword held over his head quivers for a moment and you wonder… was that not enough? 

But your answer comes swiftly. His body falls apart in five perfectly sized slices, his eyes are wide and the blood that follows is like that of misted rain. Yes, that was more than enough cursed energy.

The sound of someone scrambling to grab at the wooden handle of a shoji door has your head snapping in their direction. A man, younger than the rest, no more than a teenager is trying to escape… perhaps in another life, you would’ve faltered. You would’ve hesitated, but to hesitate was to die, it was to be defeated—as hesitation was the cause of your father's ultimate demise. 

And so, you didn’t hesitate in rearing your arm back, the katana in your hand transformed into a makeshift spear before you launched it in his direction. The teenage boy all but screams before he slams through the paper door, the blade now pinning his head to the wall within the building. 

Now unarmed without a blade, it would seem the men assumed you were much easier to kill. They come at you in waves, their swords raised and they strike at you without missing a beat. Katanas slash through the air, the slice of them enough to cut even the air around you. It’s easy enough to defend yourself, to manipulate both your own cursed energy before throwing Sukuna’s at them.

They didn’t stand a chance against it, their fleshy bodies falling into nothing but thin strips of meat or clumps of meat when they tried to fight against the pressure of your cursed energy. And yet, this fight is only angering you further.

You knew the Shogun to have sorcerers in his midst, Samurai who could also use cursed techniques and you don’t doubt that the Zen’in clan themselves had men who were strong enough to be their own standalone unit. And yet, they don’t come at you with cursed techniques or even a lick of cursed energy. 

Did they think you were unworthy? That you were a waste of time and effort to fight properly? 

You grit your teeth, your jaw aches at the pressure and you can feel the spike in your own cursed energy. The hairs rise on the back of your neck and you can see the men visibly falter in their swings when they realise just how much you’re pouring out. Fine, if they didn’t want to take you seriously…

A sword swipes at you, and you duck down to plant your hand flat against the ground. You’d only seen Sukuna do this once and that was enough. You pour out your cursed energy into the ground beneath you, it cracks and rumbles beneath you until it explodes upwards. The men around you are thrown up into the air, rock and debris crushing their legs and throwing their blades to be lost in the chaos.

Time comes to a slow stop, their bodies hung in the air with the chunks of earth you had uprooted. But you, for the first time that night, visibly waver at the amount of energy you had just poured out. No doubt the usage of the domain from earlier had drained you, and the wound bestowed across your stomach had not yet fully healed. 

You could still feel the slightest restraints on you, deep down in your blood where it slowly boils away. You were running out of time, you had to finish this and get out. You didn’t want to, you wanted to cause more pain and suffering to those who had ripped you away from a life you were starting to love. 

Bodies crack onto the floor around you, splattering and scattering remains among the ruined earth. You had no time to kill them precisely, to make them suffer—you simply just let them fall to their deaths. 

“HEY!” A voice cuts through the buzz of your mind, and you glance up. A pair of brown eyes find yours and then… your body freezes. You feel the muscles tighten as if you had been struck by lightning, you can’t move a single finger. You grit your teeth, or you think you do but you know in reality—nothing is moving. 

The man who had called for you exudes crude pride as he strolls closer, the cursed energy that rolls off of him is muted in comparison to your own but it was enough that it had caught you off guard. You want to move, to twitch just a finger in his direction and watch him fall apart. 

They had waited until you grew weak and tired, cowards. All of them, cowards. You can feel their signatures slowly appear around you, their cursed energy roaring and ready to go. They’d rip you apart when you were down and weak… how foolish of you to go all out.

“The one with Six Eyes told us you were dead, that we’d be fine to go and fuck the local village girls instead of guarding you.” A voice, a new one, comments from your left. You can’t turn to face him, but you can feel him growing closer. His energy was hot, like a blistering fire. “But I heard that he was fucking you, and that you made a deal. You kill us and he gets to fuck you like the whore you are.”

A few shadowed figures laugh at the comment, snickering no doubt at the vile words falling from the unknown man's mouth. A hand slides along your jaw, smudging the blood that had gathered there during your short-lived rampage. You still can’t see him, but now you can smell him. He smelled like fire, smoke and ash. His cursed energy was suffocating each time you tried to take a deep breath through your nose.

“How about you let us have our way with you, and then we kill you.” He snickers at his own question, the tips of his fingers dig into your cheeks in an attempt to force your mouth open. “Hm? Give us what we want, and I promise you’ll love every single second of it.”

You want to turn your head to look him in the eye, but your muscles protest and your tongue thickens in your mouth each time you try to force the words out. You want to hiss and spit, to thrash your way out of his hold but you can’t move. Nothing is working the way you want it to, you’re utterly hopeless. Again.

You throw your cursed energy out again, forcing it to slam against the invisible hold the one with brown eyes had put over you. It falters, only for a second, but it’s enough of a second you need to move your head. Your teeth sink into flesh and bone, the blood sprays the back of your throat and you hold on with all your might when the unknown man tries to rip his hand back.

“YOU STUPID BITCH!” He howls in pain, and finally, you meet his eyes. He glares down at you with onyx eyes, and you hope he can see the death grin on your face when you lock your jaw the second he shifts his weight to pull back—his finger comes free from his hand in a loud tearing sound. The severed finger sits heavy on your tongue, and the maimed man stumbles backwards. 

He moves, and you find yourself once again unable to flinch back at the sudden wave of fiery cursed energy. His entire sword erupts into flames, not of the same calibre as your own or Sukuna’s, but flames nonetheless. 

“I’ll make sure you suffer.” He snarls, spittle snapping from his gritted teeth. You wish you could bare your teeth in return.

Instead, you find yourself nearly toppling over from a sudden crush of cursed energy, it drops from the sky with an almighty bang. The ground beneath you splinters further and the buildings surrounding you shudder. Your body moves finally, the invisible shackles you were in release and you find yourself grasping at the thing that had wrapped itself around you.

An arm. An arm with a matching tattoo to your own.

“There you are.” 

‣‣ Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

[inez-winchester-cameron]

Run. (18+)

↠Pairing: Soulless!Sam x Reader x Demon!Dean (mentioned Crowley x Reader)

↠Summary: After running into a dark room, you end up in the hands of the Winchesters, one soulless and one a demon (SMUT, WC:3,490)

↠Cw: Threesome, dub-con, rough sex, choking, nipple pinching/twisting, pussy/face/thigh slapping, blindfolding, oral, throat-fucking, squirting, unprotected sex, roleplay, tying up, degradation, hair pulling, cum in places it shouldn’t be, arousal from crying, just very rough sex

↠Notes: I made a vote the other night abt what fic you guys wanted next and this won :) I’ll probably end up doing the other two at some point but this is what ya’ll get for now. Hopefully this makes up for my lack of uploads. Apologies, I’m a loser band kid and have marching band things to do and those tire me the fuck out. Anyways, I quite literally soaked my shorts writing this so hopefully yall enjoy this as much as I did :)

-

Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before, you could feel it in your head, your stomach, everywhere. Your breathing came out panicked, after running across the bunker. Your legs could only carry you so far before you stopped, looking around to make sure you weren’t followed. Slowly, after making sure they weren’t behind you, you turned the handle on the door and stepped in, backwards. 

You were being chased by none other than the Winchester brothers, one soulless and the other a demon. Unfortunately, you hadn’t realized until it was too late and they had you right where they wanted you. You were caged in, no matter where you ran in the bunker they could get to you. You knew you were only delaying the inevitable, they would find you and kill you, for fun. You stepped backwards into the room, slamming the door. You let out a sigh of relief and began looking for the light switch but you ran into something. Someone. 

You let out a gasp as you felt a warm tall body, and then the room filled with the deep chuckle of your ‘boyfriend’, Sam Winchester, “Hey baby.” But he wasn’t your Sammy anymore, he had no soul. He took it upon himself to switch the light on and you were met with his sinister smirk. You gasped again and walked backwards but once again you ran into a warm body. This time, arms wrapped around you and you instantly knew they were the arms of Dean Winchester.

“Did you really think you could run from us?” Dean whispered lowly into your ear. You let out a small whimper, as tears filled your eyes. There was nothing you could do. 

Sam chuckled at the look on your face and moved closer, ignoring your flinch when he cupped your face, “Aw, baby, we’re not gonna hurt you.” He gently stroked your cheeks.

“He’s right, princess, we have other plans for you,” Dean adds on.

“O-other plans..?” You stutter out.

“Oh yeah, baby, you were bad,” Sam says, still stroking your cheeks, “We’ve gotta punish you.”

Dean let go of you and walked over to the closet. You soon realized it was Dean’s room that you had stumbled into and attempted to hide in. Dean approached the closet, opening it. You couldn’t see him as Sam made you look at him but you could hear Dean russling around in his closet. Eventually he pulled out a box. He approached his bed and pulled out two ropes. He looked to his brother, “Undress her.”

Sam smirked and turned to you, “Just hold still, baby, okay? Make it easy on me.” You whimpered and shook your head and Sam’s eyes got darker, “I said hold fucking still. Do you wanna be hurt? Cause I’ll hurt you, baby.” You whimpered again but held yourself straight. Even though the situation wasn’t ideal, you had to admit, you were kind of into it. Sam undressed you until you were nude and exposed to everyone in the room. This wasn’t a new thing to Sam, you two had sex a decent amount, but the soulless and Dean part was all new. Dean smirked at the view of your backside he got. A whistle left his lips and your face got warm.

“Sammy, your girl’s so pretty. You should share her more often,” Dean said, with a smirk. Sam just chuckled in response.

“Get on the bed,” Sam pushed you forward and you quickly got on the bed, on your back. You didn’t want him hurting you. Dean smirked at the sight of you.

“Fuck, Sammy,” he mumbled, “If I was you I’d be balls deep in this every night of the week.” Dean started tying your wrists to the headboard, not bothering to check if the ropes were too tight before doing the same with your ankles, making sure your legs were spread. Your face was burning in embarrassment, and Dean noticed, “What? Embarrassed? About little old me?”

This situation was still less than ideal, your boyfriend and his brother were heartless. But with how hot the two of them were above you, you couldn’t find it in you to care. Your heart was still beating out of your chest but you found yourself getting into this situation. You slowly nodded, answering Dean’s question. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked, baby,” Sam muttered under his breath, running a finger up your slit. You shivered at the sudden contact, his skin was cold. Sam smirked at this and kept teasing your slit, refusing to touch your clit or push anything into your hole. Dean stood off to the side, watching his brother play with you. As he watched, his lips curled into a smirk. You instantly knew he had a devious idea, and the thought of that both excited and scared you.

“Hey princess, why don’t we play a little game?” Dean purred, digging around in his box of toys. Sam watched Dean with curious eyes, wondering what his next move would be. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling a bit uncomfortable. You watched as Dean pulled out a blindfold.

“Shhh, it’s okay, princess,” Dean cooed, coming over to you, “We’re just gonna have some fun with you. We’re gonna put this on you and have some fun with you and after a few minutes we’re going to make you guess who it was. You guess right, you get a reward, you guess wrong? Well you’ll see what happens then.”

“B-But I’ve never been touched by you before, Dean,” you looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“But you’ve been touched by Sammy plently, so if it feels unfamiliar than it’s probably me, hm?” Dean explained.

“You’ll do great, baby,” Sam took the blindfold from Dean and covered your eyes. Everything was instantly dark. It was already scary enough fucking the two heartless Winchesters but the added on loss of a sense made it even scarier. Not that you got a choice in the matter, you knew they would be having their fun, whether you were willing or not. It’s not as if you’ve never thought of this before, being completely at Sam and Dean’s mercy. As much as you’d never cheat on Sammy, you have thought about be taken by both of them at the same time. You even found yourself browsing through some of the ‘Dean x Reader x Sam’ written by the Supernatural book community. There was a specific one you remembered that featured Soulless Sam and Demon Dean, and it turned you on more than you’d ever admit. You were brought out of your thoughts by a set of hands on your body, and a pair of lips on yours. 

The hands were big, rough, but the lips were soft, gentle. You found yourself leaning up to kiss the man on top of you back. His hands roamed your body, groping your tits, your hips, your ass. A low growl was let out as you opened your mouth to let him explore. Soon enough, he was biting your bottom lip, ignoring the gasp you let out. His hands got more and more rough, squeezing at your tits and ass. You let out a whine as he played with you, and a small smack was placed on your hip, as somewhat of a warning not to complain. After another moment, the man stepped away and Dean’s voice, “Okay, princess, guess.”

You thought for a moment, Sam was normally rather gentle with you, unless you’d pissed him off and he hadn’t been pissed off at all today..It had to be Dean.

“D-Dean?” You stuttered out and a low chuckle left Sam’s lips.

“Nope,” Sam answered, “It was me, pretty girl.”

“O-Oh..” you replied, suddenly very nervous and scared. What were they gonna do? The boys chuckled in unison at your fear.

“That’s okay, princess, you have two more wrong guesses until you get punished,” Dean explained and it went silent again for another few minutes before a pair of lips was on your neck, kissing. The man on top of you didn’t touch your body, he just kissed your neck before beginning to litter hickeys all over it. He was relentless, never letting up for longer than a few seconds. He spent a long time sucking hickeys onto your neck and marking you up. Moans and whimpers left your lips but he didn’t smack you like Sam did. That was what you noticed and decided would be the deciding key. Eventually, after what you assumed to be ten minutes, he pulled away. 

“Guess,” Sam said.

“Dean,” you said, confidently and Dean smirked.

“That’s right, princess. Marked you all up so everyone knows you’re ours,” Dean said with a smirk. Another minute passed before you felt hot breath on your soaked core. After a moment, a tongue dipped forward and began circling your clit. You bit your lip and a smack was placed upon your thigh at this.

“Let us hear you,” Sam spoke up, but you couldn’t tell if the voice came from between your legs or from elsewhere. You pondered this for a moment and let your lip go as the tongue on your clit kept going. Eventually the man inbetween your legs leaned in and started to suck on your clit, flicking his tongue over it as he worked. Quiet moans and whimpers left your lips as he worked on you. After just a minute or two, he had you shaking as you came on his tongue, but his didn’t let up.

“Please-!” You called out, pulling out the restraints but the ropes were tight, it just caused a burning sensation on your wrists. You stopped pulling but whined as the tongue was relentless, “Sam, Dean, please!” But neither of the boys answered you, continuing to work you towards the edge. Soon enough, a finger was pushed into your greedy, wet hole. Your loud moan echoed throughout the room as he did. Soon enough you were clenching around the finger, nearing another orgasm, but just as you were about to go over that edge, he stopped. An even louder whine left your throat, as the man got up. You heard the loud sound of one of them sucking their finger clean. 

“Such a little slut,” Sam muttered, “Guess.”

Your brain malfunctioned for a second, you completely forgot the point of the game. Shit, who was between your legs?

“Sam?” You guessed, genuinely having no reasoning.

“Nope, was me, princess,” Dean spoke up and a light smack was placed against your thigh, “You better start guessing right or you’re in for a punishment, baby girl.” You gulped, waiting for their next move. After a moment, another man was between your legs and above you. You felt the tip of a cock rubbing against your slit. You let out a whine at the teasing and eventually the man pushed in. You instantly knew who it was, you knew that cock anywhere. You were partially relieved, you wouldn’t need a punishment but part of you was also curious. What would the punishment be? Would they get rougher? 

The man bottomed out and just sat there for a minute, before giving a few slow, deep thrusts. The cock didn’t come back out but Dean’s voice came from above you.

“Who is it, princess? Who’s inside your slutty pussy right now?”

You knew it was your Sammy but something compelled you to answer a different way.

“Dean.”

This time both of the boys chuckled in a sort of sick, twisted way. 

“Wrong,” Dean leaned down and whispered into your ear. You shivered at this and soon enough the blindfold was removed. Sure enough, Sam was inbetween your legs, balls deep in your pussy, while Dean stood off to the side. You noticed that both of them were fully undressed. Your eyes flashed to Dean’s dick and you found yourself licking your lips. Dean’s hand grapped a fistful of your hair and pulled on it, forcing you to look up at him, “Did ya hear me, slut? You were wrong, you’re going to get punished.” Dean then looked to his brother, “What should we do to her Sammy?”

Sam licked his lips for a second, eyeing up your body, before responding, “It’s hard to pick. We could stick something in her pussy and just leave her here for a while. We could hurt her, I know she’s a little pain slut. We could use these holes until she’s sobbing. We could even call Crowley and some of his demons over, let them have a couple rounds with her.” You made a face of digust, but your pussy told the truth, as you clenched down on Sam’s cock. Sam chuckled, “What do you think, Dean? Wanna let her be a little cum dump for everyone we know?”

“As much as that intrigues me, she’s ours for right now. Maybe we’ll leave her here after we’ve had our fill and let her be used by a couple of our buddies,” Dean said, laughing when your eyes filled with fear, “But for now, I think our little whore deserves to be treated like the little whore she is.” Sam chuckled, reaching forward and pinching your nipples, hard. A yelp left your throat but Sam ignored it, twisting them. Another sick amd twisted smirk formed on Dean’s face as he watched his brother hurt you. Sam slowly started fucking you again, still going in slow, deep thrusts. He kept your nipples in his fingers and he kept occasionally twisting them, ignoring the look of pain on your face because he could feel you clenching down on his cock. You were too focused on the pain to notice Dean speaking to you, “Open up.”

After you didn’t answer right away, a slap was placed upon your cheek and you were instantly looking at Dean with wide, scared eyes. He repeated himself, “Open. your. mouth.” You instantly obeyed, sticking your tongue out and suddenly Dean was forcing his cock down your throat. No minute to adjust, his cock was instantly down your cock. You gagged and sputtered but he ignored it, gripping your hair roughly and making your head go up and down on his cock. Sam sped up his thrusts, continuing to twist and pinch your nipples with one hand while the other came down and smacked your clit.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned out, “She’s such a little whore.” 

“I know, man, she thinks I actually like her but truthfully I just like having a little obidient fuck toy. Just an object to help get my dick wet.”

If you weren’t being played with, that comment would’ve hurt but in your current predicament it just made your pussy twitch. Sam brought his hand down onto your clit again and you moaned around Dean’s dick. Both boys sped up their pace at the same time and you were once again gagging on the dick down your throat. Dean didn’t care though, he was getting his fill. You let out a loud moan, nearly screaming as Sam hit your cervix with his thrusts.

“Aww, is my cock to big for your little pussy?” Sam asked, smacking your clit again. You were pushed over the edge at that and started cumming around Sam’s cock. Sam felt this but he didn’t stopped, still thrusting. You whined but they didn’t care.

“Be a good fuck doll, good fuck dolls stay quiet,” Dean commented, wrapping his hand around your throat. He lightly squeezed down and groaned when he could feel himself buried in your throat. He kept his hand tight around your throat and continued using your throat. Squelching noises came from both ends of your body as they used you. Suddenly, Dean pulled out, biting his lip and stroking his cock over your face. Sam watched, smirking. The boys eyes met and they came in unison, Sam in your wet cunt, while Dean came all over your face. Your eyes squeezed shut as cum splashed in them but Dean just laughed, reaching forward, holding one open and purposely getting his cum in it, “Act like a slut, get treated like one.” Tears fell down your face at the cums in your eyes and a choked out sob left your throat. Sam joined Dean in laughing. The boys laughed at you as you kept tearing up, trying to get your vision back to normal. Cum was all over the rest of your face as well, lips, nose, and even your hair. After a few minutes, you sniffled, and managed to be able to keep your eyes open.

“You done bein a baby?” Sam asked, pulling out. The boys switched position and your eyes went wide.

“W-What’re you doin?”

“Did you think we were done with you, princess?” Dean asked, as he lined himself up with your pussy.

“That’s too bad, baby, because watching your little crying fit just got us hard again. Besides, you wanna give Dean a turned with your pussy, dontcha?” Sam smirked.

You hesitated for a moment but silently nodded, embarassed. Sam chuckled, and lined his cock up with your lips. The boys made eye contact before entering you in a swift movement, both at the same time. You gagged on Sam’s cock as well. Sam’s cock was bigger than Dean’s, so it hurt more in your throat but Dean’s didn’t hit your cervix as he entered your pussy. You were greatful for this, as Sam had probably arleady bruised it and it already was sore. Dean set a fast pace, and you moaned around Sam’s cock. Sam set a much slower pace, enjoying watching you choke on his cock. 

“Her pussy’s so tight, Sammy,” Dean commented, “You’re a lucky man.”

“I sure am,” Sam said, “I got the best fuck toy of them all. Even if she’s a whiny little bitch sometimes.” You choked each time Sam bottomed out in your throat but Sam didn’t care, whatsoever.

“Ever made her squirt?” Dean asked, smirking

“Once or twice,” Sam replied, speeding up his thrusts into your throat a little bit. 

“Wanna see a cool trick?” Dean asked with a smirk and Sam nodded. Suddenly you screamed around Sam’s cock, at the feeling of Dean pushing two fingers into your pussy with his cock, “Come on, slut. Don’t be a fucking baby.” Tears filled your eyes at the stretch, it hurt. But Dean didn’t care. He kept thrusting, and began to finger you at the same time, finding your g-spot and roughly pushing his fingers against it. You let out a loud scream again at this. Sam smirked and watched intently while you choked on his cock. As Dean had mentioned, after just over a minute, you were becoming a water founation on Dean’s dick. Sam’s eyes went wide and his dick twitched in your throat. Sam pulled out nearly all the way, leaving his cock to rest on your tongue. He stroked it while watching you squirt all over Dean and he let out a groan, cumming onto your tongue.

 He pulled his cock back, “Stick your tongue out.” You did as told, a pool of Sam’s cum still resting on your tongue, “Now keep that there while Dean finishes his fun with you. Dean didn’t let up after you squirted. Whines and whimpers left your lips as Dean continued to use you, but you were focused on keeping Sam’s cum where he told you to. Sam watched, intently, “Oh and if you spill a drop of that, we’re gonna invite Crowley over and let him have his way with you. All night long.” You couldn’t help it as you moaned loudly and began squirting on Dean’s dick.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, cumming deep inside you as your pussy convulsed around him again. He let his thrusting stop and he pulled his fingers out, rubbing your clit, hoping to make your squirt last longer, “You like that idea, slut?”

“I bet she does,” Sam said, smirking, looking at your face. Your eyes were crossed, tongue was out, but like a good girl, you managed to keep Sam’s cum resting on your tongue, “Good girl, baby. Swallow.” You instantly swallowed it and pushed your tongue out again to show that it was gone. 

“Andddd scene,” Dean joked, pulling out. A genuine smile appeared on Sam’s face.

“You okay, baby? We weren’t too rough?” Sam asked, while Dean started untying you. 

“Come on, Sammy, she loved it.”

You smiled at Dean and shook your head, looking into the eyes of your loving boyfriend, who was in fact, not soulless. 

“Good,” Sam smiled and stroked your cheek gently, “Had so much fun, baby.”

“Same time tomorrow?” Dean joked, which earned him a harsh glare from you, “Fine fine, no same time tomorrow.” A light laugh left all of your guy’s throats and Sam leaned down, giving you a long kiss. Luckily, these men weren’t a demon and a soulless man, they were your boyfriend and his brother, who just happened to stumble upon a fic you were reading and both cared for you deeply. 

Sam pulled away after a moment, “I love you, baby.”

“Love you too, Sammy.”

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