#former leader as a pet

[ssminosblogs]

DAY 11!! 

#damnnnnnn #leonardo #shredder #oroku saki #teenage mutant ninja turtles #Ninja Turtles #former leader as a pet #alopex #tmnt #this still is orokuleo #Inktober #2022

[pupmusebox]

Tag dump 6/?

{ First Brother and Avatar of Pride - Lucifer } { Second Brother and Avatar of Greed - Mammon } { Third Brother and Avatar of Envy - Leviathan } { Fourth Brother and Avatar of Wrath - Satan } { Fifth Brother and Avatar of Lust - Asmodeus } { Sixth Brother and Avatar of Gluttony - Beelzebub } { Seventh Brother and Avatar of Sloth - Belphegor } { Human Exchange Student Among Demons - Yuki/Male!MC } { Royal Demon and Future King of Devildom - Lord Diavolo } { Loyal and Impeccable Demon Butler - Barbatos } { Powerful and Immortal Sorcerer - Solomon } { Calm and Serious Archangel - Simeon } { Quiet Spear Wielding Seraphim - Raphael } { Reaper and Caretaker of Life Candles - Thirteen } { Young Devil Bird of a Son - Lucius } { Playful Half Demon and Prideful Bird - Dante } { Royal Heir and Half Demon Dragon - Caius } { Crafty Bird of a Half Demon and Fae - Mael } { Mystery Demon of a Moth Pet - Samuel } { Warm Heart of Royal Dragon - Silas } { Sharp Witted Bird of Pride - Ignatius } { Noble Demon of Wickedness - Belial } { Shepherding Archangel of Justice - Raguel } { King of Knights - Arthur Pendragon } { Solitude Psychic of a Legendary - Vero/Mewtwo } { Tech Talented Alibaba and Oracle - Futaba Sakura } { Team Rocket Boss and Former Gym Leader - Giovanni } { Cold Eyed Rocket Executive - Archer } { Team Rocket's Master of Disguise - Petrel } { Team Magma's Boss - Maxie }

#{ First Brother and Avatar of Pride - Lucifer } #{ Second Brother and Avatar of Greed - Mammon } #{ Third Brother and Avatar of Envy - Leviathan } #{ Fourth Brother and Avatar of Wrath - Satan } #{ Fifth Brother and Avatar of Lust - Asmodeus } #{ Sixth Brother and Avatar of Gluttony - Beelzebub } #{ Seventh Brother and Avatar of Sloth - Belphegor } #{ Human Exchange Student Among Demons - Yuki/Male!MC } #{ Royal Demon and Future King of Devildom - Lord Diavolo } #{ Loyal and Impeccable Demon Butler - Barbatos } #{ Powerful and Immortal Sorcerer - Solomon } #{ Calm and Serious Archangel - Simeon } #{ Quiet Spear Wielding Seraphim - Raphael } #{ Reaper and Caretaker of Life Candles - Thirteen } #{ Young Devil Bird of a Son - Lucius } #{ Playful Half Demon and Prideful Bird - Dante } #{ Royal Heir and Half Demon Dragon - Caius } #{ Crafty Bird of a Half Demon and Fae - Mael } #{ Mystery Demon of a Moth Pet - Samuel } #{ Warm Heart of Royal Dragon - Silas } #{ Sharp Witted Bird of Pride - Ignatius } #{ Noble Demon of Wickedness - Belial } #{ Shepherding Archangel of Justice - Raguel } #{ King of Knights - Arthur Pendragon } #{ Solitude Psychic of a Legendary - Vero/Mewtwo } #{ Tech Talented Alibaba and Oracle - Futaba Sakura } #{ Team Rocket Boss and Former Gym Leader - Giovanni } #{ Cold Eyed Rocket Executive - Archer } #{ Team Rocket's Master of Disguise - Petrel } #{ Team Magma's Boss - Maxie }

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - implied non/con, extreme pet play, dehumanization, psychological/physical abuse, and unbalanced power dynamics.

commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.

Sometimes, you really do think Suguru thinks of you as a pet.

It shouldn’t be as difficult to believe as it is. Of course you’d be less than human to him, less than equal to the god-like status he has among his followers. But, Suguru knows he’s not a god, and while you might not be the only person he claims to be superior to, you are the only one he keeps locked in a steel-barred dog crate padded only by thread-bare blankets and distant memories of what it felt like to sleep in a real bed. You’re special – albeit, not the kind of special you’d like to be. You can disregard most of his grandiose speeches about ‘complete non-sorcerer elimination’ and ‘killing off those worthless monkeys’ as the self-indulgent rambling of a deranged cult leader, but he doesn’t seem to be phoning it in when it comes to you.

He doesn’t talk to you. Communication occurs solely through blunt orders (come, sit, bark, etc.) or sweetened, syrupy baby-talk, cooed as his fingers card through your hair and pet down the length of your spine. You’re expected (something learned purely through trail and error, reward and punishment) to follow him around happily, to sit at his feet and clamber into his lap whenever his eyes find yours and he taps his thigh, that expectant smile already tugging at the corner of his lips. Depending on the day, you’re either coddled and adored like a beloved pet, allowed to walk on two legs rather than four and fed treats out of his open palm, or treated like a stray who’d wandered in off the street and refuses to leave. You do prefer the former to the latter, but it doesn’t really make that much of a difference, not if you’re being honest with yourself. Either way, you always seem to end up on your knees between his legs as he sits above you, a fist curled around your collar as he tells you to lick, puppy, lick.

Speaking of – you’re not allowed to wear clothes. You used to hate it, to steal his shirts and hide in closets, to do anything you could to salvage what little pride you had left, but it’s hard not to get used to something forced onto you so constantly. The only thing Suguru’s ever given you to wear is a simple, black, leather collar – studded with silver spikes and drawn tight enough to bite into your throat when he pulls on it, which he does often. You’re thankful he doesn’t make you wear those cutesy animal ear headbands or, god forbid, a tail, but not as thankful as you should be. As unbearable as it’d be, having him dress you up like a cat or a dog or some wide eyed, sexed-up rabbit would take the edge off. Like this, it’s harder to believe he thinks of you as an animal, as something cute and small and vulnerable that he can love and care for. It’s harder to deny that he knows you’re human – he just doesn’t see why that would ever mean you couldn’t also be his pet.

You think, when you’ve exhausted all other silver linings, that it’s (partially, at least) his excuse to keep you. You know what he does to people who aren’t like him, you’ve seen what he’s like at his worst, and you know that, if you weren’t his pet, you’d just be another non-sorcerer, another nuisance the world would be better off without. If you’re a pet, you can’t be a person, and if you’re not a person, it means he’s not going against his warped ideals when he pulls you close to his chest, when he ghosts his lips over the top of your head, when he fucks you so softly and so gently, you can almost believe he cares whether or not you enjoy it. Pets are supposed to be loved, and so he’s not doing anything wrong by loving you.

You know what would happen to you if you weren’t his pet, too, if he couldn’t make excuses for himself. You’ve seen how wide his smile can be when he comes home with blood on his clothes, how little effort it takes for him to hook his hands under your arms and carry you to his bed, already muttering about how perfect he’s going to make the world for his pretty, precious pet. You’re not allowed to leave his cramped apartment, but he talks about putting you on display for his acolytes as he ruts into you with an almost animalistic brutality, about showing all of those filthy, degenerative insects what a well-trained mutt looks like. You know that you should do more to fight back, that your humanity should be worth more to you than a few half-hearted escape attempts and the occasional pained whine, but you’ve seen see what he can do, heard about the dismembered bodies he leaves to rot in a ditch behind his temple, and—

And, no matter how much you hate him for it, no matter how much you hate yourself for it, it’s true.

When it comes down to it, you’d rather be his pet than be nothing at all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jjk #yandere geto suguru #geto x reader #suguru x reader

[evilmario666]

Meet my pet wolves... From the astral realm.

Every time I astral project, my pet wolves gather to meet me.

I used regular wolf pictures as substitutes, as their astral selves are too much for a mortal’s mind to comprehend.

JSYK just because they’re my pet wolves doesn’t mean I own them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Most of them are women and I don’t think men should ever own women since that’s fucking sick and I’m a feminist!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ruby - My first ever pet wolf. I got her during one of my first astral projections. The Queen of the Death Wolves before Majoris came along. 500 kills and counting. Former leader of the pack, until she hired her daughter, Majoris, to lead. 

Majoris - The Wolf God of Color. The soul and leader of my pet wolf pack. Daughter of Ruby, a virgin birth, as she is much like Christ. 400,000 kills. Fujoshi. The strongest wolf ever. Immortaler than Jesus. 

Crushed Soul - The only male in the pack. However, he is a feminist. He fights every single day for women, so he has many scars. His name is Crushed Soul since every day his soul feels crushed by how many women are suffering. Has killed 400 Texan politicians in the astral realm. An amazing fighter. The only reason he doesn’t kill more is because he doesn’t want to have a higher kill count than any of the women in his pack

Sapphire - The princess of the pack. Daughter of Death, the first ever Death Wolf. 1,000 kills. If Majoris were to ever die or retire, Sapphire would take over. However Majoris is immortal and all of her attacks always kill (no missing or nothing). Elderly but she doesn’t show it. 

Death - Super duper elderly, but she doesn’t show it other than eating Werther’s and downloading viruses onto my astral computer (dammit Death!!!). The first ever Death Wolf, and the ancestor of all other Death Wolves. 

#Mario posts

[chrollohearttags]

DOLL FACE • chrollo lucifer

synopsis: in which you become chrollo’s newest obsession with no chance of him ever letting you go.

content + themes: yandere, drug lord!chrollo, black!fem reader, reader is an escort, mirror sex, porn without plot, rough sex, spit kink, dacryphilia, prone bone, heavy breeding, unprotected sex, dark themes, drug use (consensual), read at your own risk, short drabble

word count: 0.8K

📝: just a little something/rehashing from a previous story I wrote for a while ago. May have to revisit this someday. Shoutout to @lostgxrlblog for reminding me of this! Should also go without saying but minors are not welcomed!!

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

leather pumps with bottoms painted in red, pointed to the ceiling…

the scent of bourbon and nicotine permeating throughout the air along with the smell of sex..

strips of cocaine lined up on a shard of glass..

sounds of rampant thumping and loud cries filled the room..

it was a sight or rather, a very lucid reality that you had been experiencing for quite some time now. A pleasurable fantasy fulfilled by none other than the man who had placed you in this situation in the first place. Face down in the plush cushion of a hotel bed mattress as he ruts his hips into the plumpness of your ass. Watching it ripple each time he peered down and thrusted in. Thumbs pressed into the visible dimples on your back..it was one of the many admirable features he loved about you. Honestly, he could ramble for hours on end about how beautiful, soft and sexy you were. How he loved you dearly..and you were the most precious thing in his life. So much so, he made love to you as if it would be his last. Vigorously pounding you into the bed; causing it to vibrate at the sturdy seams.

“Yesss..! Just like that, doll face. Look up..look at your pretty fucking face in the mirror.”

a backhanded yet endearing pet named he’d so affectionately adorned you with once you became his employee and lover. Truth be told, the former was not of your own volition. It had been a year since you’d become the proverbial ‘bottom bitch’ to the illustrious crime lord, Chrollo Lucifer. His top escort and appointed leader to all the other sex workers who served under him. Although not an ideal line of work, being in his presence was enough to endure anything. A feeling he shared mutually; proving so through discarding the demeaning term and giving you the aforementioned moniker. You were gorgeous..absolute perfection if he’d ever seen it. In the same breath though, he considered you as nothing more than an object. His toy and plaything to mold and shape in his image…in more ways than one…

“You take my dick so well…god, I love being inside of you. How am I supposed to let anyone else have this pussy when it’s so conformed to my shape? It’s made for me..”

powerful words he’d hiss into your ear whilst he hovered over your frame, taking full dominion over your center. Your sticky, sweat and otherwise stained skin smacking against each other. You’d take those deep, unrelenting strokes as much as you’d could but to no avail..that thick cock stretching you open but still not wanting to give way. As some semblance of comfort, you’d grasp and claw at the crisp white sheets, chewing into the pillow but much like the other pieces of normalcy in your life, he’d rip that away and forcefully tug you back by your wrists. Maneuvering you to his own accord..a fate you were used to. Forced to glare up at your own pathetic reflection in the mirror..a fucked out face marked with smeared makeup and saliva from both your own mouth and him filling it up with spit of his own. Claw marks from him, fish hooking his fingers into your jaw and your expensive dress ripped to shreds. That done the courtesy of the client that you had just seen prior to him bursting in the room and claiming you for his own. All but running the man out by gun point. It couldn’t be helped really..especially when he saw you strutting about in that bright red ensemble, rubbing on his chest and kissing the ugly fuck..he couldn’t take it! Hence why you were being marked and bred until he was satisfied. Make no mistake, it wasn’t the actions of a brutal tyrant. It was because he was so hopelessly in love in you! Having already filled you with two loads..that twitching cunt that couldn’t stop orgasming for him, already housing so much but willing to take so much more. As long as it pleases him, as long as it made him happy, as long as it kept feeling so fucking good..

“You’re mine, I’ll make certain that it’s implanted in your cute, empty head. Even if it takes me all night. Even if I have to put a baby in that pretty belly of yours.”

you’d forever remain his pretty little plaything. His precious doll face.

#cherry’s works ✦⭒ #chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #hunter x hunter chrollo #hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo smut #yandere chrollo #chrollo brainrot #chrollo headcanons #hxh smut #chrollo lucifer x reader #hxh x black reader #black fem reader #black reader #hxh au #hunter x hunter anime #hunter x hunter fanfic #chrollo hcs #chrollo x y/n #chrollo hxh #hxh #hxh 2011 #hxh x reader #cw spit #cw yandere #cw drugs #cw breeding #cw smut

[elbdot]

Here comes a very special mare Her name was "Ode". She was like mother nature incarnated. Visiting her was special. She had an incredibly soothing, calming aura to her. Petting her made you feel grounded, as you stood next to her incredibly massive body and her enormous hooves. And she was as patient and kind as ever to every soul who came to spend her a visit.

We loved her dearly. But the farmer who owned her didn't take care of her well. After selling his other horses, Ode was standing alone on a paddock for over half a year. No one brought her into the stable, no one gave her any shelter and no one took care of her hooves. We tried everything to get Ode away from her owner, but in the end, the only solution was money. After we collected enough from friends and family and invested some of our savings, we bought her free and found a new loving home for her.

Ode lived another beautiful year owned by a loving family on a big farm with lots of other horses and instantly became the new leader of the herd. We stayed in contact with the family and heard how well Ode was doing, how much she blossomed in her new home. But one winter morning, she refused to get up. Through the neglect of her former owner, she had developed arthrosis in her legs and she was unable to stand without pain. Her family decided to release her. That was a couple of years ago. I still miss her dearly. She has left a lasting impression on me like no other horse ever has and I wouldn't be surprised if she was a Goddess of nature in disguise. Despite her life being cut short, I am glad we were able to give her one last year full of love and joy.

Cheers to you, Ode, on whichever plain you're now running free💖

#horse #horses #artists on tumblr #digital art #bella sara #art #illustration #This got WAY more personal than I wanted it to be but I feel like Ode deserves the recognition #Her story should be told to understand why I drew this illustration #I still get emotional over this horse after all these years jesus christ #She was something VERY special

[austinbutlerslovers]

Feyd Fantasy Series Recap

🔗 Full Feyd Fantasy Series Links Here

Part 7 Honor & Heir Finale This Weekend 🙏🏻

⬇️All Six Chapters Recapped Below⬇️

‼️Extreme Plot Spoilers Beware ‼️

🔗 Part 1 Pleasure& Pain

You are a young Bene Gessirit in training sent to marry Feyd Rautha and harvest his sperm to create a Kwisatz Haderach (super human with the ability to see through time) via your impregnation.

After a fellow Bene Gesserit defied the order and birthed a male instead of a female in the house of Atreides it leaves Feyd Rautha without the genetically comparable mate to create the Kwisatz Haderach. They will try again with the child you create with Feyd.

Feyd is unaware of the Bene Gesserit under plot. He is power hungry and obsessive only seeking to be Baron with a Baroness and an heir. When you are betrothed to him he has no interest until he sees how high born and beautiful you are in person.

The courtship was hastened due to his risk of death in his upcoming fight in the gladiatorial arena. If he were slain centuries of breeding to create him would be lost.

Meeting for the first time on your rushed wedding day Feyd plans to make you another subservient (but most beautiful) pet-pleasure slave that belongs to him.

Feyd Rautha though handsome and charismatic is sadistic and cruel. He tortures you mercilessly on your wedding night due to the lecherous upbringing of his uncle. He does as he has been ingrained to do from adolescence be a ruthless fighter and sexual deviant.

You however in the midst of his cruelty show kindness and affection as he tortures you softening his resolve. You offer yourself to him willingly and he impregnates you as gently as he knows how (brutally). You show him affection and kindness which he has never experienced from a female. That with your inherent sexual abilities make him become obsessed with you.

🔗 Part 2 Baroness & Breeder

Your affections and loving council change Feyd’s demeanor enraging his uncle who has raised him to be merciless and cruel from birth. His uncle separates you from him for weeks planning to breifly reunite you both at Feyd’s birthday celebration for appearances before getting rid of you entirely .

Feyd’s obsessive attachment to you makes him set forth plans to end his uncles life in order to be with you forever. You give Feyd what he needs the most good council and endless love. He craves your sexual intimacy even when you are sleeping and finds a way to pleasure you even when separated from physically being with you.

🔗 Part 3 Kill or Be Killed

Feyd fights in the gladiator arena and empresses the Emperor who deems him the worthy future Baron of Giedi Prime. At his birthday celebration Feyd lays eyes on you for the first time in weeks and realizes he must have you as his Baroness and murder his uncle who keeps you from him.

He discreetly poisons two of his uncles pleasure slaves with a slow acting transferable toxin and then celebrates his birthday with you in seclusion. First you playfully torture him in his bedchambers with sex then he whisks you to the pools of purity to claim you again. He realizes his connection is becoming more than physical. Your heart unsuspectingly opens and you begin falling in love with him. His uncle dies in the early hours of the morning due to the poison and all gather in the former leader Vladimir Harkonnens chambers to hail Feyd Rautha as the new Baron of Giedi Prime

🔗 Part 4 Madness & Mayhem

Feyd Rautha has deep rooted secrets about his family that he doesn’t want anyone to know, especially you. One of them being that his mother a Bene Gessirit, who emotionally neglected him from birth was killed by one of her own sons.

Feyd forms a strange attachment to your kindness and care mixing a taboo desire with the ways a female should care for her mate. He deeply requires the nurturing energy he was denied from birth to heal his maternal wounds.

When he finds out you only want one child with him it brings out the barbarian in his blood. He plans to pin you down and impregnate you several times by force to gain the family he desires.

🔗 Part 5 Endless Empire

Feyd’s uncle from beyond the grave tries to separate you two , sending a predated message to Emperor Shaddam that Feyd would like to marry his daughter Princess Irulan and rule the empire with her instead. Feyd however convinces the council to favor you as his chosen Baroness. He realizes you are the first person he has ever loved and the first person who has shown him love in return. He pleases you gently instead of the brutal ways that he likes and sexually submits to you. It changes him to be both gentle and hard. Finally understanding what love is he will sacrifice everything to be with you.

🔗 Part 6 Brazen Baron

Feyd Rautha celebrates his coronation infront of the populous of Geidi prime in the fortress courtyard. Millions flood the capital to see him officiated as their new Baron. Feyd has a deep rooted fixation with desecrating his Harkonnen heritage due to childhood trauma. His brother Rabban killed their biological father for betraying the Baron (his uncle). Feyd never got over it and defiles holy places of the Harkonnens in spite. He has sex with you in the Holy Shrine room before his coronation committing sacrilege.

On the same night of his coronation you reveal to Feyd you are Bene Gesserit. You use your powers to inflict him with what he craves the most: pain. You make him cum transferring the energy of physical agony during sex with your finger tips pressed to his temple. It enters his mind so powerfully he felt as though he would die. He immediately loses his need for kink and is desperate to keep you as his forever.

Part 7 Honor & Heir

Series Finale 🙏🏻 Scheduled This weekend

Summary

Feyd starts a war on Arrakis to gain final control over the Spice fields. He wants to finally free its massive profits to House Harkonnen and become the wealthiest family in the galaxy for you and his heir.

During your final month of pregnancy you and Feyd are summoned to the Emperors palace on the planet Kaitain by decree. Feyd is upset at any inconveniences to you with his unborn during this fragile time.

You reunite with your Reverend mother in the palatial gardens and a fated decision must be made. The stress of the decision is so great you go into labor. For Feyd his world stops. He drops all of his responsibilities with the Emperor to be by your side.

Special thanks for enjoying the series!I wrote this specifically to entertain you & feed the Feyd Rautha lust ⚔️.

📖 Writer @austinbutlerslovers (Andrea💕) ✍🏼 Proof Reader/ Editor @faegoddessog 🫦Smut Consultant @burnthheparaphilia. 💗Affection Consultant @magicovento

⚔️ Feyd Fantasy Tag list ⚔️ FULL 🙏🏻

@faegoddessog @burnthheparaphilia @elvismylove04 @lindszeppelin @obsessedvibee @abswifey @jessica987 @austiebuttbutt @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @purejasmine @i5uckersblog @phil2135561 @lovereadingfanfic @steph-speaks @rougegenshin @maloribarnes1999 @meetmeatyourworst @moony-artemis @xxxstormyninixxx @prettypinkblogger @thegabbyh @magicovento @aoi-targaryen @austinswhitewolf @mimsie95 @the-wanderer-2022 @jakesullyissopookie @francis-writes @shiranai-atsune @berlinalv @everyonelovesavalet @dacreshoney @caroline334 @szapizzapanda @landlockedmermaid77 @moonsoulk @feralforfeydrautha @sophroniaclark @emeraldsgirl @cooliosthings @zzz000eee @or-was-it-just-a-dream @mamawiggers1980 @neverswimalone @alexa4040 @joyfulpersonbeliever @zero-the-hero1 @skinny-baby-eva @mcmisbehaving @feydsociety @superflashvengers

#Feyd Rautha #feyd rautha x #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x you #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha smut #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austinbutler #austin butler x reader #smut #fanfic #dune part two

[kokoch4n3l]

˗ˏˋ sacrifice(eat me up) ࿐ྂ "I dedicate to you my life, you can devour me whole"

summary: you held grudges. too many of them. so when Mikey beats your ass and puts you into a two-day coma after the disbandment of Toman, you're pissed and without thinking, show up at his place with a knife to get some revenge. It doesn't turn out the way you expected.

notes: inspired by the lyrics of sacrifice by enhypen. my first [y/n] fic and first ever fic written in second person! I hope it's acc good lol. NOT edited.

warning: gang violence, near-death experience, use of weapons, toxic relationships, slight knife play(?), suggestive themes, death threats, mature language, pet names(baby, pretty baby)

pairing: kanto!mikey x f!reader

word count: 1256

It felt like the world was ending when Mikey disbanded Toman. It was so out of the blue, so out of nowhere, so random, you couldn't understand why he did that or why you were so upset in the first place because it's not like you were ever officially a member anyway. You were simply a glorified nurse for the captains of the gang. You Mikey’s childhood friend, both of you training at his father’s dojo, close to Baji as well. When Mikey created Tokyo Manji Gang oh you pissed off. Girls weren’t allowed in biker gangs. It was annoying but you were an unofficial member by affiliation somehow. Somehow. 

Mikey was acting weird after that. Or at least on a particular day when shit really came crashing down on you. He came over to your house, knuckles bloody, a blank look on his face. As usual, you patched him up. Took care of him while your phone was buzzing with calls from Mitsuya, Draken, Pah and all the former captains. As you answered, Mikey grabbed your phone and threw it at the wall. In one swift move, Mikey pinned you to the floor. He had left you for last after pushing away the old squad leaders, giving you a beating that you were certain could have killed you if you didn't fight back. He wanted to move on. He wanted nothing to do with you, nothing to do with Draken, or Mitsuya, or Pah, and he was always someone who got his way in the end. 

But you were stubborn and held grudges. So when you wake up from your two-day coma and can stand without wanting to pass out, you go to Mikey’s place with a switchblade in your pocket and your left wrist in a cast. It isn’t hard to barge into his room since you have a spare key. He was doing something. You didn’t know exactly what but before he could turn around you flicked open the switchblade. Just as he turns around you take the chance and lunge at him, sending the both of you to the floor of the shed and you press the short blade to his throat. Mikey makes no move to try and defend him. Instead, he’s looking like this amused him. Like he knew you would come back because no matter what he's put you through, you always had in the end. It was almost humiliating. “A knife?” he murmurs, his hands coming up to hold your hips while you straddle him “That’s cute, still can’t beat me just like when we were kids?”

That angers you. The tone he was using, the memories he was using against you. It wasn’t fucking fair. You had never been able to beat him during sparing sessions when you still used to go to the dojo. Even now, you can’t. It wasn’t fucking fair. You give him the nastiest look you can muster and press the blade a bit harder against his throat. “I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll fucking kill you Manjiro” You hiss angrily at him “You think you can do that shit to me and get away with it?”

Mikey however, laughs. He fucking laughs. “Yeah, I do think that”

You feel annoyed. Mikey’s hair is out, not in the usual half-up half-down style. His dark circles were prominent and he looked paler than usual. But fuck he was still so pretty. “You’re a fucking asshole Mikey—”

“—Manjiro” He says in a way that corrects you, squeezing your hips “not Mikey… Manjiro”

“Shut up!” You yell and use your half-casted hand and punch him in the jaw

Mikey doesn’t even flinch nor does he make a sound. He rolls his jaw and stares up at you with a blank look and squeezes your hips even tighter. “I’ll kill you! I swear to god I’ll kill you!” You yell at him “Why the fuck did you do that to me?!”

You could feel yourself getting emotional. It was your weakness. You tended to cry when you got too angry. It was embarrassing and the reason you didn’t get angry as much and right now you hoped you didn’t burst out into tears while you were holding a knife to the Invincible Mikey’s throat. But you start to tear up anyway, your vision going blurry. “You gon’ cry, baby?” Mikey murmurs, a hand coming up to hold your cheek so carefully in comparison to last time when he almost killed you with those same hands

It’s humiliating. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to hurt him the same way he hurt you. But you had always been weak when it came to Mikey. Even after he hurt you like he did, even after he almost killed you— you were weak. “I hate you…” You sniffle as tears start to run down your cheeks “I hate you so much Manjiro”

Your tears drip down your eyes and onto his face due to the way you’re hovering over him. But Mikey doesn’t waver nor does he change the condescending expression or tone he has. It was embarrassingly easy for him to pull the switchblade out of your hand. You shiver as he drags the blunt edge of it against your cheekbone while you continue to cry. Mikey sits up and you slide down from his hips to his lap, straddling his thighs now. “Poor little baby” He says softly but in the same mocking tone, now dragging the blunt edge of the blade against your jaw

Tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, shuddering nervously each time the cool metal makes contact with your skin. “Manjiro…” You cry like a damn child “Why did you do that to me?”

Mikey however smiles as you cry. He leans over and licks up your tears. It’s gross. You cringe and flinch away from him but his free hand that wasn’t holding the switchblade has a firm grip on your waist. “So pretty, hm… My pretty baby” 

He wasn’t taking you seriously. This was fun to him and it was making you even more mad and then anger was making you cry like a damn child. “This isn’t fair” You cry as he lowers you onto the floor on your back

Mikey has the blade pressed to your throat now, your hand lay limp on either side of your head. “It isn’t?” his tone is mocking “It was all just a test… Wanted to see if you’d always come back to me just as you said you would. Now look baby, you passed my test”

He sounds oddly cheery for someone who has a switchblade pressed to your throat and almost killed you about a month ago in your own house. “I’ll devour you whole like I want and you’ll let me like you always do” Mikey whispers as he presses a kiss to your forehead and presses the sharp edge of the blade slightly harder against your throat “You’ll let me won’t you?”

You were weak. Always too damn weak for Mikey. You sniffle and desperately grasp at his shirt. It was always like that and it would stay like that. You would let Mikey hurt you, kill you, bring you back to life, eat and devour you whole and spit you out as he pleases because… Because you were weak. “Yes…” you choke out through helpless and heartbreakingly sad-sounding whimpers

Mikey smiles and his free hand slides under your shirt. “Good girl… Now let me get a taste”

#tokyo revengers #mikey sano #mikey x reader #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers fandom #tokyo revengers x reader #sano manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #kanto manji gang #kanto mikey

[dollwrites]

— ⟡ dizzy drabbles disclaimer !!

all dizzy drabbles are written when i am extremely high ( or, dizzy ) and they don’t contain a trigger warnings list. if there’s no indication by the request, you can assume that the fic is nsfw + probably dark-leaning, if not blatantly dark. noncon, dub con, and other triggering content may be present, read with caution ( enjoy your experience <3 )

just think about being femto’s chosen pet.

a hawk that should’ve been sacrificed with the others, and yet you lived. your former leader, the same as your former lover, was gone and in his place stood a looming, dark winged angel of death. however, a soulless crimson gaze remains fixed on you for what seems like hours and hours. clawed hands wrapped around the large, domed cage he’s trapped you in, as if he wants nothing more than to rip the door off and grab you.

at first, you cried and beg to be freed. you call his name in desperate shrieks. “Griffith, please! Let me out!” but, eventually, you realize that it will do no good.

femto has no reaction to your begs for mercy. he is stoic and silent, with ever-watching eyes that follow your every move. he doesn’t try to stop you from pulling at the bars- no, bones, of your cage. oh no, femto reaches his shiny, black arm into your cage, sharp claws extended, grasping for you.

though, of course, you stumble to the back wall of the cage, it is nowhere near big enough to hide from him. you turn your face, feeling the very tips of his claws, like daggers, drag along the fleshiest section of your cheek. you whine at the sensation, certain that if he applied any pressure at all, his claws would pierce your cheek. one, large thumb hooks against your jaw, pulling your face back towards him. you squint, but your body is too weak to fight against his command, and with a small sound of protest, you look up at him. he towers over your cage by at least a full head and shoulders, but his face is leaned so close to the bars that it is nearly pressed against it— his feline eyes pinned out. he looked like a beast, and you were almost surprised that he didn’t snort like one. but, you’d noticed, that femto’s chest didn’t rise and fall with breath, at all.

his obsidian talons scrape along the shape of your jaw, his thumbnail dragging against your trembling, lower lip. you wonder, as you cower in front of this demon king, if there’s a single inkling of Griffith left within him. did he, somehow, recall the taste of the lips that he touched, now? there was a glittering possibility in his eyes. as if he were deep in thought as they focused on your lips. however, his pupils started to dilate the lower his gaze, and his claws, traveled. tearing open your top with ease— as if shredding old parchment.

your chest heaved, up and down with ragged breathing as you whined and begged him under your breath not to hurt you, but he wasn’t listening. by the time his massive palm envelopes your bare breast, his pupils were so blown out that they possessed the entire eye, making them abysmal pools of wicked intent. he teases your taut nipple with his thumb and forefinger, squeezing experimentally before the sharp end of the nails poke and prod at the bud, causing you to squirm and pant, nervous. they nick your flesh, whether he means to or not, and a thin stream of rubies drip from your chest, running down the length of your belly. you gasp, and try once again to recoil from him, but the closer you press yourself into the opposite side of the cage, the closer he leans, until his body is up against the bone bars, and they creak from his weight.

“Don’t… touch…” you whisper, desperately, but it’s much too late. closing your eyes as you feel his cruel fingers tread lower, smearing your own blood into your skin before they delve between your quivering legs. you try to close them, but even his fingers are too strong to defy, and they press against your tender button hard. “A-agh!” you’re forced to bite back the sound of discomfort, the tips of his talons scoring at your most vulnerable core, the slick pads of his fore and middle finger pushing at your nether lips to spread your pussy open. your thighs, shaking but wide, do little to cover the full view of your cunt to the monster, whose smile is faint, and his tongue flicks at his own, vermilion lips. with the length of his ring finger, he rubs between your folds, pulled apart to grant him the access that he wants, and you feel the pressure from every inch of his long, thick digit. “M-monster…”

it doesn’t seem to bother him. in fact, you wonder if he even heard you. his eyes glued to your cunt, his finger rubbing from your clit to your hole, that clenches unwilling at the rough treatment. you hate that your clit swells and throbs against his finger, and that when he realizes, he focuses all of the pressure there, until you’re moaning and squirming, with tears in your eyes.

you don’t want it to feel good, but it does.

you don’t want to cum, but you do.

and you don’t want that to seal your fate as femto’s fragile, little fuckdoll. but it does.

#doll’s dizzy drabblin’ ⟡ #femto #femto x reader #femto x you #femto smut #femto berserk #berserk griffith #griffith berserk #griffith smut #griffith x reader #griffith imagine #berserk x reader #berserk x you #berserk #berserk smut

[callsign-relic]

Hi Relic!

May I please ask for a Yan!Megatron with a Lost Light human liason who treated him decently because of their morals and ethics. Kind but not naive type. Platonic or romantic whichever vibes with you.

The basic sinario is Megatron returns to the Deceptacons, rescued by his biggest fanboi's unit the DJD and he takes the human liason with him as a pet.

Thank you,

Bookwyrm

Hi Bookwyrm! This was my first yandere request AND first IDW Megs requests, so I was SO excited to build on this combination— and I think it worked out great >:) I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: SFW, GN!Human!Reader, yandere, kidnapping

You were truly fascinating.

The first few days of Megatron’s arrival upon the Lost Light were… uncomfortable, to say the least. The multitude of members of the crew were cautious of the former warlord— and at first, Megatron believed it was reasonably so. He was the former leader of the Decepticons, after all, how was anyone to even begin to consider trusting him after millennia of war? Much less put their faith in him as one of the co-captains. Such treatment left a bitter taste in his intake.

But then, you came along.

As a liaison for the planet Earth, you were well aware of all that Megatron had done. How he almost conquered your planet, destroyed your planet— the whole works. The gray bot was certain that this new guest upon the ship was just another face to avoid looking directly at, if he were to spare himself of whatever fearful or disapproving look awaited him. But as time passed, you proved that would not be the case.

Whenever you spoke with him, you never broke eye contact. You never stumbled over your words, never made an on-the-spot excuse to pardon yourself from the conversation. You were kind, polite, decent— more than you could say for any of the inorganic beings upon the ship.

And that behavior aroused something within the mech’s spark.

Perhaps he was deserving of all the sour looks and poor treatment he got. But if there was something he was more deserving of, it was the chance at redemption. And that was something that only you seemed to be willing to give him.

So, he spent more time with you. As much time as he could. You radiated a kindness that Megatron found himself enamored with— an oasis in a desert whose dry conditions the mech had thought he had accustomed himself to. He carried you around in his servos or on his shoulder almost at all times, and to his relief, you never seemed to mind. You never noticed the split second of hesitation that crossed his mind when you asked him to place you down, the ache in his spark that waxed and waned the longer he saw you away from his grasp.

It took everything Megatron had within him to put you down. To let you, the one being who had given him a chance from the beginning, go off on your own.

One day, while you were riding upon his shoulder as he kindly offered to bring you where you needed to go, he had asked you why. Why were you so kind to him, even when he was just about the last mech to ever deserve it? And the way you offered a little chuckle before you spoke made his spark dance in its chamber. “Because,” you had answered in that honey-sweet tone of yours, “I think everyone at least deserves a second chance.”

No one else deserved you. You were so kind it was cloying, yet it was a flavor that Megatron never wanted to forget. He needed it all for himself, and he knew you wanted him too. Why else would you keep spending time with him, if that wasn’t the case?

So when alarms began blaring and warning lights started flashing all over the ship, Megatron wasn’t worried. Well, he was— in the sense that he didn’t know where exactly you were while the ship fell into chaos— but he trusted in the plan he had long since formulated in his helm if a situation like this were ever to arise.

You, meanwhile, were racing through the massive steel halls. Heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline seemingly being the only thing keeping you on your feet right now— you frantically looked to and fro for some kind of hiding place.

You had been told about the Decepticon Justice Division, but outside of the fact that they seemed to be Megatron’s biggest fan club, you really weren’t sure what to expect. But if the sounds of screams and a distant melody was anything to go off of, you at least knew you needed to find someplace to hide and keep yourself safe. As much as it has pained you to sit back and do nothing, you were well aware that, unfortunately, you were the person least capable of helping in this situation. Getting in the way would have done more harm than good.

Eventually, you found yourself in one of the lower engine rooms— a mess of cables and wires strung along the inside of one of the wall panels acting as your hiding place for the time being. Despite you trying to focus on your breathing— anything to calm you down— the earth beneath you trembled rhythmically and the wires around shook in time with it.

Someone was coming.

You tried to bury yourself deeper into the cabling, but eventually the wires became too tight for you to slip through. The most you could do was hide behind a wire and hope it was wide enough to cover you.

As the sound of metal shifting on metal rang ever louder in your ears, you raced through the possibilities in a panic. Was it Kaon? Helex? Oh god, please don’t let it be Tarn—

A shadow finally cast itself over you, and you dared to peek your head around the corner.

A wave of relief washed over you as you were met with a familiar black pede. It was just Megatron. He must have been looking for you to see if you were safe.

“Megatron!” You exclaim, breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s just me. Go, help Rodimus and the others. I’m safe here, I’ll be fine. Find me back here when it’s all over.”

But the mech did not reply. The dark crimson pools of his optics gazed down at you with an expression you weren’t sure you could read. A nervous smile crept onto your face and, in an effort to encourage him to go on and help the crew, you tried hiding behind the wiring again. “I’ll be okay, I promise. We have you to help protect us, after all.”

There was another clanging of metal, the sound of a bot’s hydraulics shifting as they’d move their joints, but it wasn’t growing more distant as you expected. It got closer, and it was only when you caught a split second of his dark servo approaching you that you realized Megatron had knelt down to your level and reached for you.

Digits longer than your own body wrapped themselves around your form, and you’re lifted high into the air. You call out Megatron’s name, trying to get his attention as the pressure of his servo around you begins to crush you in its tight grip. But he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even cast a glance towards you.

You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he knew a safer spot, and was bringing you over there himself. But even if that was the case, it didn’t explain why he was being so forceful with you. The warlord walked briskly out of the engine room and turned down the hallway—

Towards where the DJD had broken in.

Every instinct in your body activated all at once, and you started to struggle beneath the massive mech’s hold. You tried your best to wiggle your torso, kick your legs, anything— but his grip around you was much too tight for you to do anything significant against. With how he didn’t even look at you, you weren’t even sure he was noticing your rash moments, your cries for help.

But he was. As Megatron stormed towards the DJD’s ship as it awaited him, it tore him apart to see you so stressed. But the mech knew what he was doing was the right thing. You were so kind to him, you didn’t deserve to run and hide. You didn’t deserve to be at the mercy of such a brutal group of mechs. You deserved a good life, one that only Megatron could provide for you, under his constant watch and protection.

You had spared Megatron from living a torturous existence. Now, he was simply returning the favor. You would be just as grateful to him as he was to you, and he knew you’d eventually come around to see that.

#relic writes #Transformers #Transformers x reader #reader insert #MTMTE #mtmte x reader #lost light #lost light x reader #Megatron #MTMTE Megatron #megatron x reader #MTMTE Megatron x reader #yandere megatron #lost light megatron x reader

[blues824]

what if during class grim acedently turns mc a srimp.

🦐And grim not knowing how to take care of her and bringing her to octavinelle because they maby know.

🦐Imagen Floyd haveing on of his worst days ever and jade not knowing what to and there comes grim with a fishbowl saying he acedently turned mc in to this srimp and running away.

🦐And Floyd just becoming so happy about his srimpy becoming a srimp that most of the dorm leaders and the teachers having to almost fight Floyd because het doesn't want to let mc go so she can drink the antidote.

🦐Azul didn't know that that srimp was mc s him putting her in te kitchen to het cooked and Floyd going ballistic while jade comforts srimp mc and puts her back in her bowl so he can calm Floyd.

(After this incident they won't let her eat srimp anymore.)

🦐Her in a fishbowl with her eal body guards imagine her being let lose in the big tank and Floyd playing with the lil scrimp mc and later jade joining them them .

🦐Imagen lil srimpy mc sleeping on one of the tweels and the amount of pictures they took of srimpy mc.

Female Reader.

Azul Ashengrotto

He was definitely very confused when Grim brought a random shrimp in a fishbowl to Octavinelle, but when he found out that it was you he was very worried. Unfortunately, as much as he would like to look after you, he can’t because he’s too busy cooking.

But, there was a moment where the poor cecaelia was too tired. He forgot that you were still you and he thought you were a stray shrimp that one of the students forgot about. He was about to put you in a searing pan when the tweels burst in and pointed out that he was about to cook you. He felt like crap and started crying and apologizing. It was funny to see: Azul apologizing to a shrimp in a bowl.

When you turned back to normal, he was not able to look at a shrimp the same way again. He is definitely not going to continue serving shrimp in the Lounge just in case another student was turned into one just to avoid situations like this.

Jade Leech

He was quite amused when he saw Grim begging him to take you in because he did not know how to care for a shrimp, mainly because he thought the cat was joking. Come to find out that you had actually been turned into a shrimp and now resided within a fish bowl.

Just a few hours later, he went to check on you and his brother only to find out that Floyd had left you in the kitchen. The tweels panicked and caught Azul before he put you in a hot pan. You were shaking, and Jade put you back into your bowl before petting the glass and saying that it was all okay now.

At that point, he and his twin got the rest of the day off so they could look after you. The latter got the idea to go swimming in the big tank, and the former agreed. So, they transformed into their mer-forms and looked after you as you swam about. It truly was adorable to see you in such a tiny form but not scared of two huge eels.

Floyd Leech

He was very excited when Grim walked into the Lounge with you in a fishbowl, shouting about how you were turned into a shrimp. So… his beloved shrimpy is an actual shrimp??? His day went from super shitty to really great in just a few seconds. For the first hour of you being there, he was talking to you in your fishbowl in a baby voice.

But, he did have to go to practice. He really wanted to bring you with, but Jade wrenched the bowl out of his hands and made a compelling argument that the glass might crack and you might die from drying out. Well, it turns out that he came back to the Lounge just in time to tackle Azul before he cooked you. Jade had to pull him off of the Housewarden.

After, the cecaelia gave the tweels the rest of the day off so that you aren’t put in danger like that again, and the two came up with the idea of going swimming with you in the big tank. Floyd had the time of his life just swimming around you and watching as the little shrimp version of you tried your hardest to swim as fast as you could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus:

Eventually, you got way too tired being a shrimp. You had to swim about in your bowl all day, you almost got cooked alive, Floyd kidnapped you every 5 minutes, and then you went swimming with the tweels. So, as one typically does when they’re tired, you went to sleep.

The three sophomores were all huddled around, just watching in amazement. Floyd definitely snapped a few pictures because it was so freaking adorable. It would be a very sad moment when you transformed back into a human, but to them you would always be their Shrimpy.

#twst #twst x reader #disney twst #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #octavinelle x reader #octavinelle #twst azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul #twst azul ashengrotto #jade #jade x reader #twst jade leech #twst jade #jade leech x reader #jade leech #twst jade x reader #floyd x reader #floyd leech #twst floyd leech #twst floyd #floyd leech x reader #floyd #twst floyd x reader

[peachyteabuck]

let it happen (it's gonna feel so good)

↪ summary: now that you're officially kate's again, she puts you to good use.

sequel to the plum tree blossoms even in winter

a commission for someone who wishes to remain anonymous

↪ pairing: kate bishop x reader, yelena belova x reader

↪ words: 10,043

↪ trigger warnings: heavy pet play, implied kidnapping, dehumanization, blowjobs using strap-ons, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, strap-on PIV sex, manipulation, mob au, dark au, mentioned free use, mentioned primal play, use of 'daddy'

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

News of your return travels fast. Gossip does that in this business - all people have is the word of mouth and their reputation. The second one utters a juicy bit of conversation over a line or while on guard, a clique of power-hungry goons are picking it up and spreading it around as far as they can. Kate’s one of the most powerful mobsters in the Northern Hemisphere, visible in ways leaders hadn’t been in the past. Women, certainly not pretty ones, are ever as influential as she’s been.

So, you’re not surprised when every bodyguard, goon, runner, rat, dealer, and saleswoman who walks through the doors of her home or office looks at you with a mix of pity and smugness. The former because they knew what happened to those that betrayed the all-powerful Kate Bishop. The latter because people had been placing bets on how long you’d make it out in the real world, and you’d learned from Carol that very, very few had actually thought you’d last the year.

Honestly, the fact people were gambling on your ability to survive hits you less than you think it should. In truth, you wouldn’t have bet on yourself either. There are no underdogs here; only winners, losers, and those throwing money between them.

You try and remember the positives of being back in Kate’s care. Warm beds, always. Food that tastes good and doesn’t come from a bag. Her large bathtub with massaging jets. Her personal chef. Her caves of heated blankets you can hide in during traditional New York blizzards. Her chilled pool during hot summers. Fleeting memories of your time on the street bring your gratefulness into perspective, choosing to ignore your feelings of inadequacy as people you’ve known for years gawk at you like a newly revealed zoo animal.

It’s not as if all of them are mean – Kate would never allow them to throw things at you, touch you, or even come within a few feet of you without her express and explicit permission. But their heavy gazes, their snickering…it all makes you curl even deeper into yourself as you curl against the large dog bed. Kate has bought a new one, the deep gray contrasted by “Kate’s puppy” embroidered off to one side. Your skin occasionally brushes against it when you’re sleeping, yet another sensory reminder of your place.

Natasha is the first one to really meet with Kate after your newfound arrival, the two of them chatting over drinks and dinner. You get occasional bites of the lobster rolls (one of Natasha’s favorites), but as the meeting leeches deep into the night, you’re too tired to do anything else but keep your form.

She looks you up and down as you remain in position in the corner, your thick collar keeping your head up and face forward. It’s a strain, but one that’s familiar enough to feel…nice. You choose not to lean into the comfort, just letting it warm you from the inside out.  

“The pet’s back, huh?” she asks as she shakes her head and turns back to watch Kate sign checks. Money laundering is a complicated business that requires careful precision and planning. These include cutting real, legitimate checks for fake, bloated amounts. Kate could have one of her assistants do this, but she likes to double-check the numbers – she refuses to be on the other end of such a heinous crime. “She’s prettier than I remembered.”

Kate grunts out a laugh. She’s known Natasha since the two of them were mixing coke with pre-workout…the redhead is allowed to make comments that would get other people shot. Still, Kate doesn’t need Natasha getting too big for her britches…even if those britches are currently skin-tight leggings that flatter her ass tremendously.

“Yeah,” your owner says, not bothering to look back at you. She’s still shaky in her belief you’re back for good this time, and doesn’t want to jinx it by going soft. “They just can’t seem to stay away.”

“Has it really been a year?” Nat careens her own neck to rake her eyes up your form once more. She’s not as into such discipline as Kate is - preferring a little more push and pull with the ones she decides to fuck. Even so, she can’t deny the scene in front of her is hot. Your form is perfect, with your back arrow straight and your gaze unflinching. Not to mention your nipples are hard as diamonds as they’re exposed to the chilled office air, and you shiver every so often when the air conditioning sputters to life.

Kate hmms after a minute or so, shoving the stack of checks into an envelope before pushing them aside. “And about a week. Time flies so fast, doesn’t it?”

It's Natasha’s turn to murmur a response, the both of them watching you now. It takes all your might not to look at them, keeping your eyes trained on one of Kate’s small vintage horse statues she got into collecting a few years back. Most of them were tossed when she moved into her new office after her old club was mysteriously burned to the ground after an undercover cop was found flirting with an escort Kate hires every so often. The insurance money was quite a lot, enough to build her a new office, and buy a whole lot of new decorations.

But that horse statue, somehow, remained unscathed. Depicting a wild stallion running through a river – its eyes wide, mouth open, teeth barred as fish flip uselessly around it, hair tossed from imaginary wind, and light brown coat speckled with dirt – you wonder if she had kept it for any particular reason. The statue, though dynamic, was neither large nor immediately thought-provoking. You also wondered why it was so low on the set of black matte shelves, given its old place had been higher and on an adjacent wall.

“You know what they say,” Kate leans over to graze her knuckles over your cheek. You don’t flinch, instead leaning into her touch. She rewards you with a smile. “Pets always find their way back to what they know.”

Natasha doesn’t disagree but does turn the conversation away from you. She’s not a prude, but watching you get eye-fucked by a mafia boss is not her idea of a fun evening (at least, not now. You’re always more interesting when there’s an audience). She’s certainly not against voyeurism, but in a world where she can touch…she’d always rather be at the center of the action.

“When are you meeting with the Russian?”

Kate takes a sip of her drink. The bourbon is just how she likes it, neat, and she hums in appreciation. She may be a very complicated woman, but she prefers a very simple drink. “Tonight. Said she’d come later into the evening when the club was busiest.”

If this were anyone else, Natasha would say something sarcastic, mocking the person for hiding in the sea of hot, sweaty bodies (not that it would work, Kate’s team of bodyguards are exceptionally well-trained in the art of track and trace.). But they’re not talking about just anyone, and although Natasha isn’t afraid of her…it’s just best not to invite the devil to your dinner table. “Makes sense. You know how they are.”

“Speaking of which,” Kate leans over and unhooks your collar, a sign you can lay down and rest for a little bit. “Don’t want her all worn out before our special guest arrives.”

Natasha says nothing. She’s pushed her luck enough.

“But yes, I’m intimately familiar. When they shave your head after kidnapping you and do it poorly, you tend to remember their cruelty.”

She wrinkles her nose at the memory – including the number of wigs she had to buy once she was safely returned. She was young when it happened, and her hair had long grown out since then, but her skin still remembers the itch of the growing stubble atop her head.

“Anyway, you know what I need from you,” Kate shakes her head to push the experience back deep into the recesses of her mind. “Everyone is hands-on, everyone tracks her. I don’t want a single person entering or exiting this club without us knowing any affiliations.”

It’s not as if Natasha knows the protocol – she was the one who developed it after an unfortunate incident with a Bratva a few years back – but she nods along as if it’s the first time she’s heard it. It’s easier that way.

As she goes to leave, Kate stops her – a wave of emotion cracking through her harsh façade for just a moment, before her steeled brow resets itself into its regular position. “Keep her safe. I can’t lose her again.”

The redhead just nods once, silently, before going back to the security wing with the rest of the team. Even underground, she can faintly hear the deep bass of a particularly rancid EDM remix, but mostly the only noises are the sounds of tactical gear clacking against itself. Loopholes in a military overstock program meant police departments were willing to exchange gear for cash with nonsequential serial numbers, and Natasha was always the first in line when silent auctions went live. It’s what she liked, it’s what she was good at: protecting, watching, strategizing.

She liked Kate trusted her enough to give her as much freedom as she does. That’s where she saw other mobsters fall—egos too big it couldn’t fit inside of them, imploding the whole organization from the inside out in a single generation. Natasha didn’t want to a freelancer anymore—the money was good, but stability had become more important in recent years. Maybe she’d gone soft, maybe she’d just gotten older. Either way, looking at the vast away of screens that covered every inch of the club and its perimeter…she felt truly at home.

Back in Kate’s office, you lay in your dog bed while your owner smokes a cigarette. It’s not something she does frequently—she’s a busy woman, she doesn’t have time to press pause every hour to hunch outside. Plus, she hates smoking with other people. She quit for the reason most people refuse to: the social aspect proved a worse taste in her mouth than the nicotine. Even the e-cigarette people didn’t find themselves outside, instead blowing fruit-smelling air into whatever closed space they felt entitled to.

Whatever, she sighs, putting it out in an ashtray that looks suspiciously similar to your pussy. I’ve got more important things to think about anyway.   

Kate sees the suit first – a muted orange with fantastical patterns woven into the fabric, reminiscent of tapestries she remembers from a museum visit from a job farther down the East Coast. The thread glimmers in the light, a subtle way to signal her importance. Heeled boots thump against the tile as she walks, her loose, bouncy blonde hair framing her face. Unlike most of the people in the club tonight, she’s perfectly relaxed. It’s as if she’s sitting down at a family restaurant she’s been to a million times before, confidence in her step you’re not used to seeing.

“Yelena,” she says, gesturing to the seat where – just last night – Kate fingered you until you squirted all over the floor. She made you clean it, but your face still heats at the thought of her sitting there. “Come, sit. I will have my assistant pour us a drink, if you’d like.”

Assistant. Its double meaning hanging in the air like a dark, ominous cloud.

Yelena looks you up and down, eyes raking over your form as if you were a painting she was attempting to commit to memory. Her eyes seem to see not through you, but all of you – flesh and bone and sinew. You’re not sure what to make of her heavy gaze, the way she stops every few inches for just a moment before continuing. People watch you, stare at you, all the time – some shocked, some less so. She doesn’t look at you the way they do, like a starved animal seeing its keeper dangle fresh carnage outside of its cage. Rather, she’s a fully fed bear, fat and happy as it revels in its hunting ability. She knows she doesn’t need to kill, doesn’t need the destruction or chaos or unspeakable violence; but she can. She very easily can. And that’s all that matters to her, and her prey.

You’re wearing a gag – that part isn’t new (she’s not some sniveling virgin) – but what surprises Yelena ever so slightly is that it’s shaped like a dog bone. Drool pools at the side of your mouth, dripping down your chest and covering you in your own spit. All you can do, though, is look up at her with wide, empty eyes.

That is, until you remember your manners and turn your gaze downward.

“I don’t intend to stay long,” she says. It’s not meant to be sarcastic or clipping. It is what it is. Still, as she looks you over once more, a small smile curls at her lips. “Bishop-“

“Kate, please,” the brunette insists. “We have enough history to be past that formality, don’t we?”

Yelena doesn’t correct herself, continuing to stare at you. Her gaze is so intense you can feel it without looking back, small fires igniting down your spine under it. “I see you found a way to occupy your time since we last spoke.”

You wish you could see her, but all you can do is stare at the floor while the tension in the room builds in the way one expects the crash of a tsunami. Kate keeps much of her time in the Eastern Bloc a secret lost to time, but you’re not that much of an idiot to understand what silence means in these spaces.

Kate gives a tense smile, stepping to give Yelena some space. You’re not sure if the guest is asking for it, or if Kate needs it to cool down. “Sit, please. We’ve got much to discuss.”

It’s hard to track the movements of their feet through sound, but the slight scrape of the chair legs against the hardwood floor is too distinctive to ignore.

Kate tries to ease them back to the intended conversation, the experienced gears in her mind turning as fast as they can. “As I told Melina, your ports would be an incredibly valuable asset to us, and-“

“What are you offering me?” Her accent is thick, her tone straightforward. It’s one of the things Kate likes most about working with Russians – they don’t dance around the issue, they don’t fuck around, they don’t ask her to read between the lines. They say what they want to say without preamble or metaphor. Life is easier when you know what kind of target you’re shooting at. “You want access to several multibillion-dollar ports for what, the shithole Jersey has to offer?”

Kate narrows her eyes. “Underestimating your enemies seems to be a thing with your people, isn’t it?”

Yelena just laughs. It’s a dry, husky sound, and you do poorly at dampening the flutter in your chest. “Governments are very temporary where I’m from. No sense in vesting yourself in something that can’t touch you in a country so big.”

Both women pause. In the distance (or maybe right next to you), you hear waves crashing ashore—the sound of car alarms and windows breaking and people screaming. It’s here. It’s here and you are stuck in the middle of it.

“What do you want?” Kate remains outwardly calm, combing through her knowledge of the other woman to try and find some middle ground. It’s true – dock access benefits her much more than her Eastern counterpart. But she’s made people agree to a lot more for a lot less.

The woman across from her hmms, but stays silent otherwise. It’s that heavy, weighted silence; the kind that begs for another party to ask a question, lower their offer, barter for less. It’s an anvil that hangs over the both of them, swinging as they work against each other to determine where it will fall.

“Sign this deal, give me access to the ports, and if all goes well I’ll let you stay a week with my puppy over here,” Kate says plainly. Your head shoots up and your eyes widen when you realize what she’s saying, that she’s offering you up as bait for this deal. The bait part isn’t so surprising, you’ve been used as a carrot much more than you’ve been used as a stick. What causes your heart to stop is how sincere she sounds. Kate’s poker face is akin to a brick wall (maybe concrete – a brick wall has too many imperfections to be compared to your owner), but you’ve known her long enough to know how her tone wavers just a little when she’s lying. You hear nothing, no notes skipped or rests added. Just a sincere, long melody that rings throughout the room in a minor key.

It’s not as though Yelena isn’t gorgeous – with her plush lips, soft face, and eyes lined with dusty eyeshadow. She has this relaxed air about her that screams “I know exactly what I’m capable of, and you do, too.” And if your relationship with Kate is any indicator, you’re very attracted to that energy. Still, a pretty unknown is still an unknown…and you’re worried your recently lost seniority with Kate could have devastating consequences.

“I can give you money, drugs, equipment, girls,” Kate tells her. “But you said you willing to come and talk, so I’m assuming you didn’t come here just to-“

“No,” Yelena cuts her off. Fucking bold ass Russians, Kate thinks. You’d think they’d at least let you finish “I want to take the puppy out on a nice dinner, a little…what is it you Americans call it?” She smiles, laughing to herself just a little. “Dine and wine?”

Kate doesn’t correct her.

“Whatever it’s called, I want to do it to the pet. One night, including dinner. That’s what I want in exchange for giving you dock access.”

Kate clenches her jaw just a little. You don’t notice, head perking up at all the attention on you. It’s nice to not be a little toy on a shelf sometimes, everyone staring at you but no one touching. Having merely the focus of one person is a nice change, especially in a restaurant as fancy as you presume Yelena frequents. Perfectly literate in poverty, you can tell this woman and Kate fall in the same tax bracket (if they paid their taxes accurately).

They work out the details on their own, details far above what you’re able to hold in your own brain. All you care about now is what happens next, your body thrumming with excitement. If you’ve gotten the attention of this woman, you’re curious of what others would do for you.

Kate cuts up pieces of the food to feed to you from her own fork, pausing every so often to take a bite of her own. It’s awkward, sitting there just out of view but so exposed, hands bound in front of you as you’re denied the chance to feed yourself.

Sharon blinks, face blank. “Must we do this now, boss?”

Kate just smiles, watching as you eagerly swallow the spoonful of mashed potatoes. Ever since your return, she’d had her chef prepare comfort food she knew you’d missed while you were on the run – macaroni and cheese, pot pie, chicken noodle soup, decadent desserts. Watching pleasure wash over your face with every bite was worth denying you all those months. It’s something Kate’s had to learn intimately; how torturous waiting is. Still, she knows she—and you—are better off with abundance of patience.

“This is the only time I have available to speak on this matter,” she doesn’t look away from you as she speaks, her tone light while her words pointed. “We can either discuss this now, or you can wait in three days when the subject in question is back in position.”

The blonde’s jaw sets, her hands balling into fists under the lip of Kate’s massive oak desk. It’s not like she’s some prude, like that one guard who lasted twenty-four hours before begging to be moved to another post. She just knows that, less than four feet away, you’re clad in only soft panties and a large t-shirt that shows off your hardened nipples, collar jingling with each movement and your hands kept inert. If she had her way, she’d be bending you over and filling your holes with her fingers, laughing as you wept from the pleasure.

She’s not a prude, she’s just really fucking horny and wants to go home so she can watch the most intense porn she can find. Alone. With her vibrator and thruster and noise-canceling headphones and maybe an expensive bottle of Scotch. Or an edible. She doesn’t know, yet – part of the joy for her is sitting with the process and going with whatever sings to her heart the most.

So, Sharon shoves down the memory of your moans, of past promises of letting you loose in Kate’s mansion while Kate’s most trusted within the organization hunt you down like prey. She digs her nails into her palm as a distraction, but all it does is think of them digging into your hips.

“Are you really going to let her do that?”

Kate doesn’t move a muscle, and, for a split second, her blonde counterpart thinks she’s going to crack. Sharon knows what you mean to her, what your return symbolizes. When you decided to leave, Sharon remembers how angry she was, how often Kate came home with bloody knuckles or a split lip from forcing Nat to spar with her. To have you back and then immediately do something she’s never done before with you—letting someone outside their tight-knit group lay any sort of claim on you…it worries her.

But she’s Kate fucking Bishop, she has no flaws, admits no wrong, displays no weaknesses.

“We need several billion dollars, and all we have to do is let our little pet out into the world for the night,” Kate says with a shrug, looking at you with the same critical eye of an art collector. “Seems like a good deal to me.”

“Plus,” she pets the top of your head as you nuzzle into her knee. “Yelena’s not an idiot. She knows we’ll be watching and if anything happens to my prized pet that she’ll meet the end she was promised by the Red Room.”

Sharon nods just a little, trying to imagine how much a nightmare tracking you, the Russian, and the Russian’s own security will be awhile keeping Kate in the loop. She and her team can get it done (not as if they have a choice), but it'll be the definition of a logistical nightmare.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Kate coos to you. You keen under her words, pressing your face into the side of her knee and rubbing your face against the fabric of her jeans. “Daddy will always keep you safe.”

“Kate,” Sharon can’t tamper down the bile that rises in her throat as she imagines a Kate without you once more. “You’re sure?”

She ignores her, instead forcefully grabbing you by the chin and forcing you to face Sharon. You let out a small yelp, which Kate simply ignores.

"Do you want to be a good girl for me?"

You nod, desperately trying to push the fear to the back of your brain. Needless to say, it doesn’t work – you can feel it oozing down your spinal cord and settling into your stomach. You’ll be good – you’ll do anything to be good…but you worry your clammy hands and shaky breath might give you away.

Kate pulls you back so that you’re facing her, forcing a whimper from your throat.

“Then don’t leave that Russian’s side for a single fucking second, you understand?”

You nod as much as you can, eyes wide with fear. You truly have no plans to run again—you’d spent enough time on the streets to know that even if you somehow got away (which, in and of itself, is about as likely as you jumping off a building and flying), there’s nowhere for you to go. You have nothing to your name, nothing to barter or trade for on the streets. Kate is, in all ways, the devil you know. Better her than what waits beyond her scope.

The woman holding you face smiles—not the kind that comforts you, but the kind that has you bracing for what comes next. “Perfect.” She pushes you away as she lets go, patting your cheek hard enough that you’re sure it qualifies as a slap. “I knew you could do it. Now, Sharon, walk me through the security protocols, please.”

Kate’s bedroom in her mansion is technically categorized as a “master bedroom,” but feels close to its own apartment within the house. It’s bigger—much bigger—than the home you grew up in, certainly larger than anywhere you found to sleep while away from her. She’s got a large vintage wardrobe that’s been fitted with the favorites of her toy collection, a huge bathroom with a tub large enough for three people, and a small kitchenette.

You have your own walk-in closet, too, not that you really use it. On occasion, you’re arm candy to a fancy dinner or meeting, or you need to catch the eye of a target to leave them vulnerable. Hundreds of thousands of dollars of clothes hang, sadly, mostly unused, as you clap (yes, clap, Kate is not one to spare any expense, especially when it comes to you) the lights on.

You wish you had been given some sort of dress code; you’re not really used to dressing yourself. Truthfully, you’re not used to making any decision on your own, and now that everything rests on you… you’re terrified of messing it up.

It takes what feels like hours, but soon you’ve got three options. A vintage satin wrap dress that hugs your figure but gives you room to breathe, a strappy emerald green floor-length gown with a visible slit that parts every time you walk, and a plush pink sun dress that barely hits your knees but whose sleeves and straight neckline give the illusion of modesty.

In the end, paired with black stilettos and diamond jewelry you’re nearly completely sure was stolen from the Met, you choose the wrap dress. You’re not sure what Russian mobsters like, but you think it’s a safe bet that they enjoy plunging necklines, a high, hidden slit, and perfectly winged eyeliner.

(Or, at least you hope so.)

The car Yelena said would come at eight comes right as the clock ticks into the hour, one of Kate’s servants alerting you to its presence as it pulls into the winding driveway. It’s empty, save the driver, who attempts to neither greet you nor converse with you. He opens the door for you and helps you over the curb, certainly, but the car ride there is completely silent.

Wherever you go, someone seems to be right at your side. The driver escorts you into the restaurant, and the hostess walks you to the far back, where Yelena is already sitting at a perfectly set table in a private room.

“Sit,” she says, pouring champagne into shiny fancy glasses. “We have much to discuss.”

You do as you’re told, taking a champagne flute from her. Initially, you’d hope the alcohol would calm your nerves. Now, you’re settling for it warming your skin.

“It’s nice to have you alone, маленький щенок. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your face heats—you know your existence is the elephant in the room in many meetings with Kate, but having people know you when you don’t know them has never gotten less strange. Still, your lightweight nature begins to mask itself as bravery as you down the rest of the bubbly liquid. “Anything in particular?”

Apparently, the champagne, while calming your nerves, also dulled your inhibitions.

Yelena, to her credit, just laughs. Like her voice, it’s deep and raspy and goes straight to your center.

“Just that you are a very, very good girl who would do anything for her beloved owner.”

Her energy is electric, enigmatic. This must be what Eve felt like in the garden, with the snake swirling around her in its impossible size. Truthfully, you’d bite into anything Yelena asked you to, if she did it in the same way she asked the waiter for a booth in the corner or how she requested a more “balanced” selection of wine from the sommelier. She even lets you order for yourself, something Kate has never let you do.

It’s interesting to see the differences between the two of them.

As you watch Yelena cut a thin bite of bloodied steak, though, you realize how similar they really are. Yelena, like a knife with an intricately carved handle, and Kate, like a baseball bat with blood in its grooves, may not be mirror images of each other. It is easy to imagine, though, the both of them, side by side, waiting for their turn to torture someone who had wronged them in some way. Danger, regardless of its form, settles its heated self into your lower abdomen.

The conversation is light, flirty. It reminds you of a first date, the kind you went on before Kate domesticated you. You feel…warm, the light of her gaze. It’s hazy, too, the way a fire is in the wee hours of the morning. You feel that same sort of flush, that sort of vulnerability that only reveals itself in the hours before the birds start to sing. It feels both like decades and like seconds before you’re splitting a cherry crème brule and Yelena is sliding the waiter her black card. She holds you close to her with her arm around your waist, her thumb drawing small circles even as the directs you into a black car with the same driver as before. The ride is a daze, her hands dancing over your skin in complete silence.

She guides you into your destination—a hotel—in the same manner, the doorman pointedly making an effort to keep you from his eyeline.

The name of the place doesn’t register until you’re stepping into the lobby, a hand on your waist guiding you to an elevator hidden off to the side. Of course – this is the expensive hotel Kate gets rooms in sometimes to house guests she wants to keep an eye on. Yelena booked her own accommodation, and you doubt Kate needs as much retcon on Yelena as she does for a normal client, but what really causes your breath to hitch in your throat is the cost. A week here is more than most people make in a year, and you know she’s staying for two.

“You’ve been here before?” she asks as she hits on the buttons closer to the top row. The penthouses, you recognize.

“A few times,” you answer honestly. “But never for more than a night or two.”

The room Yelena’s staying in looks exactly like yours did all those years back—modern, tastefully decorated, almost too neat. You don’t have much time to look around, though, before Yelena’s got you pushed against one of the walls while presses her lips to yours. She doesn’t say anything—doesn’t need to—simply bunches your dress in her hands to pull it off you.

It falls to the floor in the same way you think Marie Antoinette’s head did – smoothly, and with silent, eager onlookers watching as it finds its place on the ground.

You expect, or at least hope, there was more fanfare, more witnesses to her destruction. All this dress is getting, as you step out of it and deep into Yelena’s arms, is one woman’s lust. It’s easy to see, though, how anything the Russian does would overpower a crowd of thousands; in the same way her silence screams louder than an army, the way she tugs her bottom lip between her bright teeth says more than anything anyone else could tell you about her.

Her hand rests over your clothed pussy, skimming over the soft skin there. “What a good girl you are.”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks and over your chest. You wonder if this is what being burned alive would be like—the light tinging the border of your vision and painful heat quickly turning into pleasure.

“I like them well trained,” she murmurs into your skin. All you can do is grab at her shoulders, holding her close. If Kate said it was okay…

“I’m a busy, busy woman, little puppy,” Yelena peppers small kisses across the base of your throat, her soft, plush lips sending shockwaves through your body. “I don’t have the time to break the brats my…colleagues seem to enjoy so much. But you…you’d do whatever I’d ask you to, wouldn’t you?”

If the room was on fire, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to tell until the roof caved in. Heat licks at your abdomen, sparks flying across your center as you cross your legs in an attempt to dampen the flames. It, needless to say, doesn’t work at all.

“Oh, puppy,” Yelena grins as the hand begins to ghost over your tummy. “No, don’t do that. Don’t hide from pleasure, my darling.”

Your mouth feels drier than a desert as you meet her heavy gaze, her eyes lined with artfully smudged black shadow. She’s stunning, there’s no way around that (not that you want to avoid it); but, truthfully, you’re also not so sure what she sees in you. It’s easy to forget your insecurities, though, when one hand is suddenly moving south and pushing your carefully curated panties to the side.

Her hands remind you of the rest of her—rough, skilled, no-nonsense. She teases you for a moment, ghosting her fingertips over your desperate cunt. You want her, you want her more than a man dying of dehydration craves an endless freshwater ocean. She knows it, too, watches through dark lashes as you pant and chase her lips when she pulls back.

It's only when you begin to whine that she slides her fingers into your dripping pussy, a moan passing her own lips the same as yours. “Oh щенок, you’re wet after just a little kissing, huh? You like it when I touch you there?”

You swallow the frog in your throat, trying to find a way to defend yourself. The choosing you, the conversation in the restaurant, the touches in the car…but your protests die in your chest as her other hand moves to your throat.

“Gotta hold you in place, щенок,” she murmurs. “Can’t have you running away, can I?”

She finds that special spot inside of you easily, like a scent hound to the hideout of a family of foxes. You can hear the beats of horses’ hooves in just under your ribcage, their owners hollering at the chance to hunt properly.

“I-“ You gasp, trying to find purchase against the wall. When the concrete doesn’t make way for your fingers, your find yourself digging them into her suit. “I-“

"Come on, baby, be good for me,” Yelena purrs. It’s sweet, sincere…but you also can’t imagine how fake it’d have to be for you to not feel a trembling in your knees. She could be a snake oil salesman, and you a harlot hypochondriac with money burning a hole in your purse, and you’re sure you would do whatever she asked. “Give me what I want.”

And so, you do – exploding from the inside out like dynamite inside a coal mine. It’s hard for you to keep yourself upright, and you find yourself leaning on Yelena entirely. She catches you, keeps you upright enough so you can catch your breath.

“I know, baby,” Yelena purrs, rubbing her thumb against the fabric of your dress. “I know, it’s okay.”

She holds you to her, gives you a moment to find your proverbial footing as the pleasure settles into the base of your spine, your knees no longer struggling to hold your weight. You pull back, leaning on the wall as her arms cage you in.

“What a pretty girl you are,” she says quietly, as if she’s merely confirming to herself that her assumptions were correct.

Your heart—the stupid, fluttering thing—thumps against your ribs as you reach for her belt.

Yelena lets you do as you please, finding your lips as your hand finds the toy placed just for you. “Mm,” she moves to nip at your neck as you spit on her cock, your hand finding purchase on the carefully molded silicone. “So good, too. I’ve heard a lot of rumors, щенок. It’s good to know so many of them are true.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and chest. You’re not sure what to say, or do. Even if you did, all of your focus is concentrated on releasing what you want from their confines. Yelena doesn’t stop you, but doesn’t help either. All she does is push you to your knees, one hand on the top of your head while the other guides the toy to your lips. You’ve done this thousands of times with Kate, with her own strong hands at the top of your head.

This is different, though, with Yelena. Different in the way swimming in an ocean is different than swimming in a lake; in the same way sexting through text is different than through a phone call. It’s indescribable but perfect, and you can feel yourself dripping as you lick up the length of the shaft.

“Look at me, красивая девушка,” Yelena murmurs, voice low as if to not startle you. She moans as you meet her heavy gaze, the corners of your eyes watering as you slowly swallow her cock. “Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

You’d smile if your lips weren’t so thoroughly occupied, the praise hitting you at every angle. The warmth prods at you, urging you on, with the world shrinking until it was only the two of you and no one else. There was nothing, no one, who could break the focus of you on Yelena, and vice versa.

It's easy, with her hands on the top of your head and endless sweet nothings tumbling from her lips, to swallow her down until your nose was pressed against her pubic bone. She’s got a tuft of light brown hair on her lower tummy, a happy trail you’re eager to nuzzle into when you’re not pre-occupied with her cock.

“Gorgeous,” Yelena whispers, seemingly more to herself than to you.

Funny enough, looking up at her, you’re thinking the same thing.

She swipes her thumb over your cheek, following the outline the silicone makes in the muscle. “Absolutely fucking gorgeous, милый.”

Her praise spurs you on, pushes you to force yourself further and further down until you can feel tears forming at the corner of your eyes and your lungs fighting for air. Yelena just watches you, eyes full of awe and one hand at the back of your head, as you pull back and sputter for air before licking up the shaft once more.

“Enough of this,” she says gruffly, suddenly, grabbing you and throwing you over her shoulder before you can so much as squeak. You’re tossed on the bed much in the same fashion, her hands unzipping your dress and tossing your panties aside as Yelena kisses you. She’s rough, passionate, moving you without pretense until she’s on her back, your core hovering over her face. “Now this,” she moves her head enough to kiss as your empty, waiting cunt. “This is what I’ve been looking forward to since I saw you the first time.”

You want to question her—ask her how she knows about you, how she saw you when Kate keeps you under such close supervision. The curiosity dies as she grabs reaches under your legs to grab your hips and seats you atop her, her lips and tongue moving in tandem. It’s hard to keep yourself from rocking against her, and so you don’t. You grind against her tongue, your hands finding hers to help with her balance. You cum easily, quickly, shaking against her as she moans into your pussy. As the pleasure subsides you push yourself away ever so slightly, seating yourself against her chest. Both of you catch your breaths, the shared panting the only sound in the otherwise quiet hotel room.

When you’re finally able to look down, to see her blissed-out face covered in your juices, you’re mesmerized.

Yelena just smiles up at you, eyes half closed. “черт возьми, you’re amazing. Give me a second, and we can do it again.”

The next morning, Yelena drives you herself, waving away the driver who passes her the keys despite his concerned look. She opens the passenger door for you and closes it once you’re fully inside, getting into the driver’s seat after that. As she drives off, silence settles over the two of you. It’s hard to make small talk in your situation, and so you wait for her to say something first.

Luckily, she does.

“You could come with me, you know.”

You don’t meet her gaze, if she’s even looking at you. All you can do is stare out the car window and watch as the world passes by.

“Americans have nothing on us,” Yelena continues. You wonder if she notices your hands balling into fists. “I could keep you safe, if you wanted to run. It’d be very easy to convince my own people to love you the way Kate’s people do.”

The car stops—a red light, hopefully—and her hand caresses your cheek. ���Look at me, щенок. Please.”

And so, you do. Apparently, you’re very easily persuaded.

“Not sure if Kate has told you, but you’re quite the talk of the underground.” Heat rises on your cheeks, the horrors of being known pricking at your skin like needles. “Like some kind of cat tossed out the back. Many people were following your path, щенок. Many people were following Kate’s path as well.”

“W-“ you stop for a second as her thumb rubs at your bottom lip, the lip she was nipping not-so-long ago. “What do you mean?”

 “I mean you are a trophy,” she murmurs, eyes flitting from your lips to your eyes to your heaving chest. “You deserve to be treated like one. And I’ve got a special place for you with me, if you want it.”

Yelena lets you look away from her as the light turns green, the world once again shirking its responsibility to be a quality distraction. The car goes too fast for that, and so you are stuck rolling her words over in your brain.

“I can’t,” you say when the club comes into view. “I just can’t.”

The blonde next to you sighs quiet enough that you barely hear it. She nods to the valet—some scrawny kid you’ve seen once or twice. Where your hands rest in your lap, you feel Yelena’s own sliding between your fingers and depositing a simple business card. On it is just a number, the characters a stark black against the thick eggshell paper.

“Maybe one day I’ll see you again, щенок,” she whispers into your ear. “Tell your владелец she can use the docks whenever she’d like.”

You don’t speak Russian, but it’s easy to tell who she’s talking about.

“Thank you,” is all you can say back, eyes wide and waiting. You worry there’s some catch, a bit of rope you forgot to step over that will make you hit the concrete face-first.

But you remain upright, familiar faces ushering you through. It’s still early in the day, which is something you’re grateful for. You don’t need to deal with the prying eyes of patrons on top of the pity from the workers who are mopping the floors and cleaning glasses. You pass a few of Natasha’s lower guards in the narrow, dim hallways—all of them staring at you as though you were a cow being sent to slaughter. They’ll feast on you someday (both of you know it), but you still can’t make yourself do anything but stare at the floor.

Kate shows no emotion as you step into the office, her face expertly wiped of emotion. Natasha, standing guard at the door, seems relieved. She and her guardswomen have always been a sort of Greek chorus, their reactions slipping through the cracks in their facades every so often. It makes their earlier expressions far more sinister.

“Go lay down, puppy,” Kate says without looking at you. “Daddy’s got some work to finish.”

You do as you’re told, taking your shoes off before sliding onto the dog bed. As soon as your skin hits the fabric you can tell it’s been cleaned – the blanket on top of it, too. It’s still warm from the dryer, smelling distinctly of the lavender dryer sheets she buys in bulk. The bed at the hotel was too big, uncomfortable in its never-ending borders. This feels closer to home, and you lose consciousness to the sound of Kate’s keyboard clicking and opera music playing softly from her desktop.

Hours later, you lift your head when you hear her desk light being turned off, the familiar click a moment of respite from the harrowing silence of the office.

She smiles – a small smile, but a smile nonetheless – when she sees you perk up.

Home? You ask silently, looking at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Home, she tells you through a silent nod.

You tamper your excitement enough to follow her calmly, her arm wrapped possessively around your waist as you exit. The club hums with the pre-opening anticipation, and your own eagerness mixes with the electricity in the air.

The ride home is silent, Kate looking more at her phone than you. She does, though, keep one hand on your thigh, and for that, you are ecstatic.

Once home, Kate grabs one of the collars and leash sets that hang inside a custom end table, a bowl of car keys on top hiding its true function. You drop to your knees without further prompting. It’s hard to fight the moan that bubbles at the familiar clicking sound, and so you don’t.

It makes your owner smile, and you preen under the attention. The hand not holding the leash cups your jaw as you, too, grin with her.

“Such a good puppy,” Kate purrs, looking you over for signs Yelena had failed Kate’s commands.

“If I see a single mark on her, I will kill you,” she’d simply said.

The Russian just laughed. “Going to be hard, Катя. How about just the neck?

Kate hmms, thinking about it. She certainly doesn’t need Yelena to pull out of this deal for something as simple as a few hickeys. “Fine. Anything below the collarbone is fair game.”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby.”

You do not heed her warning—you don’t need to. You’ve known Kate long enough to know exactly what you’re getting into.

“Come on, pup,” she says, standing up straighter as begins to walk towards her personal wing of her house. Just as she trained you, you stand and follow right behind her, eyes focused on the floor. You miss crawling, but know Kate likes to keep your favorites for when she’s really rewarding you. When you’ve proved you deserve it.

As you follow her, you pass a room that’s hidden from view - the door closed to warn the eyes from unwanted, unexpected visitors. Inside rests the larger pieces from Kate’s sexual collection - the full cage, the St. Andrew’s Cross, the coffee table with rivets made for rope. All custom-made to her specifications (and your body measurements).

It surprises you, just a little, when she doesn’t lead you directly to there. Kate has always preferred grand gestures to smaller ones, and that preference doesn’t end when she steps into the bedroom. Once, after receiving news a rival of hers was finally killed by another, second rival, she tied you to the bed and edged you for six hours. She set a timer and everything, telling you it was “an hour for each bullet in his skull.”

You swallow your shock, following her diligently throughout her large mansion. You like Kate’s predictability – even when it’s paired with brutality. This change…you’re almost worried, even as excited and the last thrums of your previous orgasms rush through your blood.

It all melts away, though, when you feel Kate come up behind you, kissing at your neck. She pushes you towards the bedroom—the shared bedroom—the one with the bed you’re rarely allowed to sleep in. This is her version of affection, her language of love. She would never say it, never out loud, but it still makes your heart flutter.

“Good puppy,” she moans as she pushes you against the doorframe, kissing you fiercely. “Such a good fucking puppy for Daddy.”

One of her hands snakes between you, cupping your heated mound. It’s still sore from last night, but that certainly has never stopped her before.

“You’re so beautiful, too,” she murmurs breathlessly. “My gorgeous ray of fuckin’ sunshine.”

The beating in your heart travels south, Kate’s hands roaming over your hips and ass and thighs as she kisses you breathless. It’s easy for her to push your dress up, exposing you to the cool air. Kate laughs, staring at where your very expensive panties were no longer present. “She took ‘em, huh?”

You swallow, not sure what to say. In truth, you hadn’t even thought to look for them—Kate usually makes you go without.

She just laughs, going back to caressing your ass. “Can’t even blame her, I would’ve done the same thing if I had the chance.” She moans as her fingers sink into you. They’re not too deep, but that doesn’t do much to mitigate the stretch. “Fucked a lot of good pussy when you left me, but not a single one matches up to this cunt right here.”

You yelp as she slaps your clit, moans replacing the sharp sound as she circles it slowly. It’s easy to love her when she’s the one taking the pain away, even if she’s the one who caused it in the first place.

Without panties, her fingers slide in easily – your wetness already pooling under you. Your pussy is sore, but it only adds to the pleasure that spreads in your abdomen. It’s the kind of soreness you can feel everywhere—your shoulders, your thighs, your stomach, your arms. It feels good to be a well-loved toy, you think. It feels good to be used, to be useful.

“So wet already?” Kate purrs, a humiliating laugh tinging her words. “I bet I could get my dick now and I’d be able to fuck you exactly how I want to.”

You moan—you can’t help it—biting at your bottom lip.

“You want me to fuck you, puppy?” she asks, smiling as you nod feverishly. “Good girl. Strip, then go wait for me on the bed. Hands and knees, puppy.”

You scramble to take your clothes off and find your place as soon as she lets you go, almost tripping over your own feet in your frenzied desire to follow her orders. The bed, luckily, has already been made, providing you with a wide landscape in which to stake your claim.

Kate appears behind you, it seems, seconds later. The elaborate strap she’s chosen is gorgeous—all woven leather and silver hardware. She has a plethora of harnesses at varying levels of similar and dissimilar to the one she’s wearing, certainly, but after she wore it when she made you squirt for the first time…this one had remained her favorite.

You shiver, just a little, when you feel her hands running over your hips. Kate guides you, silently, closer to her. The silicone brushes against your bare core ever so lightly, sending another wave of desire through you.

“So wet,” she murmurs, her fingers everywhere except exactly where you want them. You’re about to whine, to cry, to beg, to do something to convince how desperately you want her, but before you can even open your mouth, you can feel the head of the toy slip inside of you.

“Oh,” you moan, barely fighting the urge to collapse into the bed, to let her use you like a toy. You know, though, that she likes to be the one to choose your position—if she wanted you with your face pressed into the sheets, she’s put you there with a hand between your shoulders. “Oh, please.”

“You’ve been a good little girl,” Kate muses. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the slew of pleads desperate to spill from your lips. “And well-behaved puppies deserve rewards, I suppose.”

You don’t have time to breath before she’s slamming into you, the toy fully sheathed as Kate pins you to the bed.

“Tell me who you belong to,” she hisses, the strap stretching your cunt. Unlike Yelena’s, this one is smooth, ridgeless, with a bulbous head that ends in a cone shape. It hits that spot inside of you with the kind of delicious pain Kate is so well known for—your cries interrupting her commands. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

You can’t speak—you simply can’t. Your fingers grasp at the silk bedsheets, desperately wishing you had claws so you could hook them into the $15,000 fabric and tear them into shreds. Like a werewolf stuck in the middle of its transformation, the rabidness racing in your blood feels too much for your mortal flesh to bear.

And yet, Kate pushes.

“Say it,” she growls, barring her teeth as she thrusts into you.

“I-I,” There’s no way, no way you’ll be able to choke those words out, choke any words out – everything you want to say is lodged in your throat, stuck there like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. You thrash in the same way, knowing your fate but fighting against it anyway. What was that guy’s name? Sisyphus? He had it easy, rolling that boulder up that hill. At least he wasn’t getting his cock teased while it happened.

Or maybe he was…you couldn’t remember much of your early college English classes as a fire raged inside of you.

“It belongs- oh!,” you moan as Kate bottoms out, the leather of her harness pressing against the inside of your thighs. “It belongs to you.”

“That’s fucking right,” she moans, deep in her chest, as she fucks into you with purpose. “You’re mine, all fucking mine and no one else’s.”

Your cries punctuate her proclamations, hiccups and moans layered over her words.

“I don’t care how many other people touch you,” Kate tells you, ignoring you as your howls of pleasure. “I don’t care if every fucking night you’re at the center of some orgy. You’re mine. Not Natasha’s, or Maria’s, or even fucking Carol-“

You’re wailing now, sure the soundproof walls have disintegrated and are thin as paper—pieces of which flap against your sound waves. Kate, in her unwavering desire to ruin you for eternity, keeps going.

“And certainly not some goddamn Russian who doesn’t know when to stop fucking pushing.”

“N-no!” All you can do is wail, clutching to her so hard you’re sure there will be red marks down her back come morning. Kate won’t mind, though. She also likes a bit of pain to remind her of her own mortality.

“Good fucking puppy,” she whispers, panting into your ear. “Took a stray dog in from the street, gave it a collar. Look at it now, huh?” You can hear the smile on her lips—the kind hunters have when their prey whimpers below them. Kate could set a thousand traps, catch you a thousand times, and she’d still have that delicious grin plastered over her face. It makes you feel small, vulnerable, like a rabbit caught in a snare. You love it.

 “Such a good fucking mutt,” she moans. “Good fucking mutt who takes my cock so well.”

It’s easy to come, then, already sensitive and desperate and so deeply happy to be back with he woman you love the most.

“Yes, puppy,” she moans. “Give it to me.”

And so, you do, over and over again. Kate continues fucking you, even as you begin to shake from the overstimulation. The world shrinks to just the two of you, Kate panting in your ear and you swimming in pleasure. There is no one, there isn’t a need for anyone, to exist outside of you and her.

You’re not sure when it ends. Like an ocean in high tide, you can only wait for her to recede and grant you peace under her thick duvets. She wipes you down with warm, fluffy towels with Puppy embroidered onto them, cleaning your slick and the dried lube from your center and inner thighs. When you gasp at the feeling of the cloth against your sensitive skin, to which Kate just coos and peppers kisses against your sweaty temple.

“It’s okay, baby,” she whispers. “Go to sleep. I know you’re tired.”

Always the best at following directions, you allow unconsciousness to overtake you.

You wake up hours later, the darkness outside giving you no clues to the time. Your whole body is the kind of sore you haven’t experienced in years, the kind that reminds you of when your college roommate freshman year convinced you to run a 5K with her.

Kate sits beside you on the bed, reading some hardcover book about something or other. She likes older books, the boring kind you’d expect a dad to be reading in an old armchair.

It’s easier to deal with her when she’s satiated; when a deal’s gone well, or her product sold for more than she expected. She’s got a quicker step, and holds one hand in her pants’ front pocket as she smirks.

You’re not always the first thing she concerns herself with after her days go perfectly. She wants to brag—to soak in the euphoria of hard work done well with the people who benefit the most from her dealmaking.

But now, as she pushes sweaty hair from your face and smiles softly…it feels good. It feels right.

“How are you feeling, puppy?”

You blink, trying to clear the sleep from your vision. “M good, I think.”

Kate hmms. “Need anything?”

It’s only then you realize how dry your mouth is. “Water, maybe?”

She grabs it for you without question, reaching into the mini fridge hidden inside a less garish nightstand. She waits, patiently, until you’ve downed the whole bottle, before she speaks again.

“Now,” you can hear how out of breath Kate is, as though her restraint in not asking immediately after you’d woken up had driven her to the brink of madness. “Tell me everything she told you. I want every. Last. Detail. And I’ll reward you in ways you can’t currently comprehend.”

You’re not sure what to say at first, the fear of triggering Kate’s possessiveness is always a looming threat. What does she want to know? That you sat on her face? That she likes red wine? That her Russian accent thickens when she’s fucking?

Kate grabs your chin and forces you to meet her gaze, her eyes narrowed in determination. “Don’t think, puppy. Just tell me everything that happened in the order it happened. This sort of arrangement could change some things, could make you a much more important asset.”

You blink, still unsure. Kate’s eyes, though, don’t move from yours.

“Come on, puppy,” she leans down to kiss your forehead. “Tell Daddy what happened, and I can make you a very happy pup.”

#yelena belova x reader #kate bishop x reader #yelena belova x kate bishop x reader #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff #kate bishop/reader

[karokawwo]

my swap au because I've been Pondering:

Ais->Leander: He's the rough yet charismatic leader of the Seaspring, much more lively and boisterous than og Ais, partly because he does actually have a gang!! He still has a deal with Ocudeus and many of his gang members are part of the Seaspring, but he does have some sane ones... For now.

Leander->Ais: Former leader of the Bloodhounds, now spiteful and moping in the nearest run-down bar. The Senobium took down his gang since he was getting a little too "confident", but he's still trying to find a way to take them down (while drinking the pain away)

Kuras->Mhin: A wandering angel trying to atone for his sins by destroying the "filth" from the Underworld. He believes if he kills enough of them or suffers long enough, he'll be saved at long last.

Mhin->Vere: The Senobium's newest pet, a desperate fledgling who was caught when trying to escape their curse. Mhin isn't quite as old as Vere, but they've been around long enough to start resigning to their new job and their cursed—yet somewhat useful—power.

Vere->Kuras: Honestly idk everyone else's switch kiiiinda clicks into place except for his. I was gonna say he found himself pitying the poor or something and that's why he became Low-towns' doctor but like that's so noble it feels wrong on Vere yk. Please help. I do know his healing hurts like hell tho (think Marcille from Dunmeshi, like yeah her healing does the job but it's still torture)

#pls feel free to add on to this #i wanted to draw them but uhuuhhhhh #designing stuff. ough. #touchstarved game #touchstarved #ais #leander #vere #kuras #mhin

[sepublic]

#the owl house #disney #polls #meme #memes

[georgiapeach30513]

When I Hear Your Name

Summary:  You should have never left.  Things were perfect.

Pairings:  Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit, dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, depictions of PTSD, kidnapping, somnophilia, non con/dub con, degradation, bondage, fingering, squirting, creampie, pussy plug, breeding kink, holding people captive, cheating, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.7K

Steve Rogers Masterlist

A/N:  My entry for @the-slumberparty Week 1 Challenge.  My random generator theme was ‘Descent into Madness’ and the setting was ‘Military’.  

Steve Rogers was a lot of things; he was strong, charismatic, a natural leader, righteous, handsome, sweet, and stubborn.  He was different before he went off to war.  He was always about making you giggle.  Holding you tight when you got scared.  His sweet lips nipping at every inch of your skin.  His body had yours memorized.

Things were harder when he came back.  There was this odd quality about him.  He wasn’t mean, he was just…distant.  It was like he was living from afar.  Never completely present with you.  He didn’t talk to you.  Barely looked at you.  He was just there taking up space.

Once upon a time he showered you with gifts.  Even if you didn’t have much, Steve managed to get that diamond bracelet that you had eyed for years.  Surprised you with his own homemade bouquets of flowers.  It became a weekly thing to see these adorable, if not crudely put together, flowers.  He tried, and that’s all you cared about.  Even would hand deliver them.

His romance was gone, as was his will to enjoy life.  There was no passion behind his actions.  He was but a meat suit with little to no emotions.  No excitement, no love, no passion.  It was infuriating.  It was worse seeing Steve like that.  You couldn’t explain it.  Couldn’t make sense out of it.  And you felt yourself losing your joy everyday.  

You tried getting him the help he needed.  Tried to be there for him, but it wasn’t enough.  

“Moonbeam,” Bucky whispered in your ear as the two of you watched a blank Steve staring up at the ceiling, “you don’t deserve this.”

“But…I love him,” you look up at Bucky, and only then does Steve stir.  His eyes glaring straight at his best friend.  “He doesn’t deserve this either.  Bucky, what am I supposed to do?  He barely eats or sleeps.  Won’t go to therapy.  Won’t talk to me.  I want our life back.”

“Have you ever thought it wasn’t coming back?” Steve sits up in the bed, and you flinch, taking a step towards him.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, he sighs, leaning more into it.  This was proof he was still in there.  He always leaned into your touch.  You pet around his face, giving him a tearful smile when he looks up at you.  Opening his mouth, but no words came out.  It was heartbreaking to see this great man become a ghost of his former self.  No smiles were ever present on his beautiful face.  He was lost.

“Moonbeam,” Bucky says again when you turn to leave.  Steve’s feet bounced his legs around, but you couldn’t do it anymore.  It was eating away at your soul.  Your hope was nearly dwindled down to nothing.  

“Moonbeam?” Bucky races out to grab your arm, “Where are you going?”

“Back home, Buck.  I can’t,” you cry up at him, giving him a tight hug.  Blind to your boyfriend’s darkened eyes peering at the two of you.  “I tried.  He’s never coming back is he?”

“I don’t have an answer for that.”

“I hope he does.  I hope he finds himself.  But I can’t do this.  I can’t see him like this anymore,” giving him a kiss to his cheek, you leave everything behind.  You didn’t need a reminder of how happy your life was.  How many dreams you and Steve had made come true, and how many you were still waiting on.  You wiped your hands clean, and it was the hardest thing you had ever done.

“What did you do?” Steve screams as he races towards Bucky.  “She left me, and it’s all your fault!” He knocks Bucky onto the floor, crawling over him to slam his head into the floor over and over again.  “You did this!”

“You did this, Steve!  She wants you, and you won’t fix it!”

“I can’t.”

——

“You got another package,” the girl at the front desk snips, smacking her gum, feigning annoyance.  “You know the boss is mad about all these personal deliveries.”

“They’re not personal when I don’t know who’s sending them,” opening the box, you gasp at the forever roses that were supposed to keep for over a year, and one in the center was a pure gold rose.  

‘I’ll love you until the last rose dies,’ ugh, so cliche.  If this was for you, he didn’t know you at all.

“You have no idea who’s sending you these,” she smacks her gum right beside you, and you have to silently count to ten.

“Nope.  Not even dating.  Probably someone gave them the wrong place of work.  Throw it away,” you didn’t care about gifts anymore anyways.  You didn’t care about love or happily ever after.  You cared about peace, and yourself.  You vowed to never fall in love again.  And you wouldn’t

“Some man just spent hundreds of dollars and you think he doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope.  Clearly a mistake.”

“Your name is on the address,” giving you an incredulous look.  She believed you were bullshitting her and everyone in this office.  “No man is going to go out of his way to do this, along with flowers every Friday, if he wasn’t sure it was you.”

“What?” You stop in your tracks, turning back to look at her.  “What did you say?”

“You get flowers sent to you every Friday,” she blows a giant bubble with her gum, and you march back to the box, grabbing it up.  “So you know who sent them?”

“Nope,” you lie.  It wouldn’t be Steve.  This was a cruel joke.  You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few years.  These weren’t hand delivered like Steve did it.  They had it all wrong.  

You go out the back door, and slam the box into the garbage.  Your chest heaves with frustration.  “God, I can’t get away from him.”

“Because you weren’t meant to,” before you can scream, someone’s thick hand has been placed around your mouth as he drags you into a van.  You try kicking and screaming.  Try for anyone to get your attention, but it was useless.  

“Any second now,” your assailant grunts as your vision goes blurry.  “There ya go,” he hums, watching your eyes flutter close.  “Sweet dreams, Moonbeam.”

——

Your eyes pop open quickly, as you blink your vision back into view.  Tugging at your arms above your head, and your feet, but you were not going anywhere.  Hands tied above your head, while your legs were spread eagle.  Taking a deep breath to keep from crying, you look around.  

“Welcome home, darling,” Steve says sweetly, walking into the bedroom with a glass of water.  “I worried that you weren’t going to wake up.  It had been too long.  Your pulse was still steady.  You must have needed that extra bit of sleep.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Your voice was hoarse, like you had been screaming.  “Why am I naked?”

“Why are you asking questions?  You’re home, you should be happy.  Look, I’m talking to you again.  I tried sending you flowers, you didn’t thank me.  I had plans to hold you while we walked on the beach and talk for hours, but you didn’t call.  Had this big night planned for a romantic dinner, and then to take you dancing, but…yeah, you didn’t reach out to me.  So, I had to do what I had to do.  We’ve traded diamond bracelets for leather cuffs,” he gives the binds on your wrist a little tap.

“And they look so pretty on you.  Water?” You shake your head no, but he lowers a straw to you anyways.  “I suggest you drink some water.  You’re tired,” with his free hand he slaps at your core, chuckling when you yip.  

“What have you done?”

“You took too long to wake up.  I wanted what you promised was mine,” you cock up your eyebrow, needing him to go on, “You said that your pussy belonged to me.  So I took it.”

“You fucked me while I slept?” You growl up at him.  Disgusted that this was the man you had once loved.

“Yeah,” he answers easily.  “It’s my pussy.  It was just glistening with your juices.  If you weren’t turned on why were you so fucking wet?  Face it, Moonbeam, that cunt was made for me.  So I gave her what she wanted.  You needed a good hard fucking.  You were pitiful.  You still say my name in your sleep, too.  You know that?”

“Who was driving the van?”

“Hmm?” Steve smiles, looking down the expanse of your body.  Cupping your mound, moaning at the feeling of you, “Still wet.  You’re a slut for me, you know?” His hand slides up and down your split, and you try not to react, but damn if it didn’t feel good.  He knew your body.  Steve studied your body like he was being graded, this didn’t change.

“Who was driving the van?  There was someone else.  Was it Bucky?” You croak, letting a desperate mewl rise up out of your chest.  

“Why do you care so much about fucking Bucky?”

“I didn’t say anything about fucking Bucky.  I asked who was driving the fucking van,” Bucky was a sore subject for him.  His hand moves a bit faster.  A bit too hard on your sensitive nub.  “Steve,” you whine, anything had to be better than this.  “Steve, I wanna feel you.”

“No, you don’t.  You’re asking about Bucky.”

“No.  I…uh…I just wanted to know who was with you.  But…all I want right now is you.  I forgot what you felt like, and,” you bite at your lip as the pleasure starts to build up.  Getting a devilish smile from Steve.  He slows down his motions more, and you whimper out his name.  “Steve, I can’t remember.”

“I’ll make sure you remember.  I’ll make sure you feel me for a month.  You’ll take a step and be so sore that you’ll know my cock was buried so deep in your greedy little cunt.”

“Yes!  Yes, that’s…that’s exactly what I want.  Steve,” you breathlessly answer when he takes off his shirt.  Silver scars crisscross over his arm, and you can’t stop staring at the odd pattern of them.  

“Steve,” moaning out his name when he jerks his pants down.  His cock springing free, looking just as godlike as him.  Dripping of precum, and he crawls in between your legs.  Rubbing his tip through your arousal before slapping his cock over your clit.  “Steve!”

He continues playing with you, until strings of sticky arousal connect the two of you, and you jerk at your cuffs, needing to feel him.  “Yeah, you get forced to take whatever I give you,” he laughs as you try to bring your thighs together.  “Pathetic.  Trying to deny yourself an orgasm,” he tsks at you, changing to slapping you with his hand.

The sharpness was sending euphoria that you had never felt through every inch of your body.  Flowing through you like your blood.  Continuing until you were screaming out his name, and he crams two fingers into your tight channel.  Curling his fingers as he stabs into you.  There was no time to rest as he chases another high for you.

Your cunt was making the most vulgar squelching sounds that made his eyes roll into the back of his head.  The noise echoing through the rest of the house, and Steve hoped he heard.  “Just.  Let.  Go,” he demands, letting his calloused fingers hit over a sensitive spot in your core.  

“It’s…it’s….there she fucking is!” Steve screams as you squirt onto his chest.  Your juices being catapulted to your stomach, and still he didn’t stop.  “One more time.  Then I’ll give you what you need.  Go…on,” he pulls his hand out while you soak his thigh.

At lightning speed he had his cock driving into you.  Hips thrusting his fat cock in your warmth.  You were already speaking in tongues.  Head tilted back as you worshiped at the altar of Steven Grant Rogers.  My god, he was hitting every single spot that you had.  This wasn't sweet love making.  This was an urgent need to have you say his name like a prayer screaming off your lips.  A deep desire to destroy you, break you, so that you would never leave him again.

More arousal spews out from around his length as you clench down.  Your walls missed him.  And they were hugging him tightly.  So tight you start to see stars.  “Don’t you give out on me.  I missed your pretty eyes!  Missed the way you looked when you were taking my cock.  Look at you…right where you were made to be, taking my cock.  My little sexdoll.  It’s what you were designed for, huh?”

You give him a head nod, trying to catch your breath.  It was too much.  “I told you to drink your water.  Maybe next time you’ll listen.  Molded to my cock.  Gonna keep you in here so I can play with you whenever I want, Moonbeam.  I do miss the way you scratched down my back though. Just like you’re doing with your hands.”

It was true, you had your hands in a fist so tight, your nails had brought blood to your palms.  “Fuck,” Steve growls, railing into you harder.  “One day, when you don’t try to leave me, I’ll let you ride on top of me.  Okay?  Let that pretty little ass ride on my dick.”

“Steve!”

“Yeah, I know.  I know, you missed me just as much as your pussy.  I mean, my pussy.  She was always mine, wasn’t she?”

“Yes!  Yes!  Yes!” You scream out again as he drives into you hard.  Making your body jump up the bed.  You felt him in your throat, and you wanted more.  “Steve!”

“I know!  Right…there!” One more final thrust has you both coming hard.  Your creams mix together as Steve tries to catch his breath.  “Beautiful.  Now,” he groans, pulling out of you.  His hand shoves up against your ruined cunt and he reaches over to the bedside drawer, grabbing a plug that he shoves into your mouth.

“This is extra important,” he drags it down your body before removing his hand, and pushing it into your sex.  “There, that will keep that in there while I take care of something.  When you have my child, you’ll never want to leave.  We’ll become a family again.”

He kisses you hard on the lips before leaving you in a state of partially awake, and halfway asleep.  Walking down to the basement where he sees the chair, and two angry glowing eyes.  “See?  I told you she wanted me.  Now, I’m going to take your muzzle off and feed you.  When she stays freely, I’ll let you go.  Hey!” He shouts when Bucky snaps his teeth at him.

“Is that anyway to treat me?  I know you two had something going on.  This is to make sure you never think about fucking Moonbeam again.”

“It’s an expression.  I didn’t mean I wanted to fuck her.”

“Liar!” Steve shouts, clenching his fists together.  “She even said fucking Bucky.”

“I’ve never touched her!”

“Eh!” Steve holds up a glass of water with a straw, “Comply, soldier.  Quit fighting it.”

“You’ve gone fucking mad, Steve.  Let her help you.”

“I am,” Steve’s mouth turns up into a creepy smile as he puts the straw to Bucky’s mouth, “She’s going to give me babies.  I have my cum waiting in her snatch right now.  She’ll never leave.  And neither will you.  Not until you comply,” there was no use.  Bucky knew that Steve would keep him here until he gave him what he wanted.  It was over.

“Steve!” You scream from upstairs.  “Steve, please, don’t keep me here!  My parents have…they have…Steve!  I have somebody who needs me,” Steve slams the glass on the ground, knocking Bucky’s chair over.

“What was it that you didn’t do again?”

“I didn’t know, Steve!  I didn’t know!” Setting him back up right, Steve stomps up the stairs.  “Steve, let her go!  Steve!” Was the last thing Steve listened to before slamming the door closed, leaving Bucky to wonder, and Steve to brood, while you prayed you could get out of this.  Maybe.  At least this time you had a reason to fight, and a bigger reason to leave.  He could never break you.

Next

Masterlist

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#navy and roo sleepover #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x fem!reader #dark!steve rogers x y/n #dark!steve rogers x you #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #dark!fic #dub con #non con #bucky barnes #marvel #chris evans #sebastian stan #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut

[hanrinz]

𖥦 ٭࣭ 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗠 𝗔𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘 !

includes: deku, bakugou, shoto, hawks, dabi & shigaraki

content warning: attempted crack, is based on what happened irl, chaotic! can be platonic/romantic! i have favoritism and it's very obv here

rosie's notes: bnha men but this time sum of this happened irl ?!? our school is holding a sports event & that gave me an inspiration to write smth ! and happy 100+ followers to me🫶 thank you everyone!!

꒰ 𝐃𝐄𝐊𝐔 ꒱

you know those nerds who would ramble on and on about their interests? yeah, that's him. although, this is already a given thought about him, i just know he is an all might defender! slandering all might is a big no, he would pull out all the reasons why all might is so amazing and therefore you have no reason to say such malicious things to the former no. 1 hero.

he would definitely be that classmate who's popular because he edit vids so well?!? his account is full of all might edits😟 it's very concerning.

he would let you copy his notes!! though it's not very readable.. overall he's a nice classmate to have!

꒰ 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 ꒱

definitely, the vice president who shouts at their classmates that are noisy, but also noisy himself. he definitely knows all the tea in the classroom! he says he hates drama but keeps receipt of every rumour and hush secrets.

the leader! he might be harsh at it, but at least it gets the work done. he's strict too! if you give him your work it must be perfect, well-written and up to his standard! he doesn't half-assed things, if you can't match up with that, it's better to work alone😞

꒰ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 ꒱

the quiet guy who always has a handkerchief over his mouth, would talk occasionally. he's the one who would have a bunch of supplies! mans is built like national book store😤

need a marker? he got a box of those, in different colors too! don't have any paper? you can ask one from him! forgot your pens at home? he got your back!! he's that type of guy you would always want to be group mates with, he's just smart and participates very well!

꒰ 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐒 ꒱

the teacher's pet, (pun not intended) he would always get straight A's, would always help the teacher with their things whenever they leave the classroom. he would also be the one to remind the teacher about the assignment that y'all agreed not to mention.

the students from other schools come to see him in every event your school holds !! you will always see him with different ppl taking pictures with him, definitely a social influencer!

he pranked dabi one time, trying to scare him. he got punched in the face resulting from him getting a bruise (didn't post for his selca week, got his fans in shambles wondering what happened to him)

꒰ 𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈 ꒱

the annoying guy who teases you all day, also likes doing activities all by himself. is on the dance club??!?? he can dance!! and win in every competition he partakes in.

would receive love letters and chocolates on valentines day?? he hates those things, would probably end up burnt or just down the trash :( or maybe he would just give it away to his friends, either way he doesn't like it.

he gave you one though, from him too?!? very mixed signals, but it's dabi so it's bound to be one.

꒰ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐈 ꒱

that guy who plays mobile games at school, when phones are supposed to be surrendered! surprisingly, is good at hiding his phone well and is very participative in group work!

he's that guy who wears hoodies even in the hot weather! does not give a shit about other ppl, unless it's correlative to him.

have a very messy sleeping schedule, one time he fell asleep on your shoulders he was warm and very cuddly too! nuzzled in your neck and inhaling your perfume.

dabi smacks him in the head to wake him up, he jolts from the impact immediately muttering a small apology to you, still groggy but would definitely ask you to let him sleep on your shoulders again.

#deku x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha imagine #bnha imagine #roses ‘r rosie