#non-con cw

[wri0thesley]

shakes my little can of ideas. Diluc who just reeeeally wants you, really needs you, and has such intense desire for you, that when he finally snaps and just holds you down and needs to feel every inch of you even though you're trying to push him off, beg him to stop please... but he just keeps muttering 'i'm sorry, i'm sorry, you're just too pretty i need you, i need you' Ugh. Delicious. Brought to you by a very weird dream of mine.

apologies - yandere diluc x reader (2.7k)

cw: NON-CON. very very explicitly non-con, this is kind of gross. afab reader with no pronouns or gendered terms used, although there are some vague allusions to courtship and reader wears a shift to sleep in. diluc is yandere and delusional and lovesick and apologises and minimises his actions a lot.

You have always considered Diluc Ragnvindr a gentleman. 

He has always been polite to you; courteous, his face serious, his tone perfectly proper. Opening doors for you and offering you a free (non-alcoholic, naturally, as he could not be seen co-ercing anybody) drink at his tavern; when you had found yourself stranded in a sudden lightning storm close to Dawn Winery, you had not thought for one moment there would be any danger in knocking on the door of the manor and asking if you may wait it out.

“Of course you can,” Diluc had said, the very corners of his mouth turning up, his tone warm. “Stay the night, please - I couldn’t forgive myself if something were to happen to you traversing these roads, they’ll be waterlogged for days.”

As you had no retinue with you and no provisions for anything longer than a meandering walk (having found yourself lulled into a false sense of security by the glorious weather when you had set out from Springvale), you had been only too happy to take up the offer. It had been a civil, polite affair - Diluc and you warming yourselves by the fire, polite questions about the wellbeing of your family, a compliment on the way the colour of your clothing today complimented your hair and your eye--

Of course, you know Diluc is not often prone to compliments - and perhaps you had preened a little at the sweet words from him, had imagined what it would be like to be the betrothed and adored of the most eligible bachelor in Mondstadt.

But that was all it had been.

Imagination. 

The heavy form on top of you now is most certainly not your imagination.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Diluc breathes against your ear, his weight pinning you down into feather-soft mattress, heat radiating from him. “You were just so close, I couldn’t help myself--”

You had been shown to a luxurious guest room just down the hall from the quarters that Diluc himself commandeered as his own; a pretty maid showing you the adjoining bathroom, bobbing you a curtsey and telling you that you were an esteemed guest and to please feel free to use anything that you found in the room or to tug at the bell pull if you needed anything. She had even procured for you a thin white cotton shift from the maid’s clean laundry that just about fitted you, though you couldn’t help but feel a little exposed in it - you had thanked her effusively, knowing Diluc certainly did not need to go to all of this trouble for you.

You wonder what the maid would do, now, if you somehow shoved the master of the house off of you and managed to pull the bell to alert them to the need for assistance. 

You couldn’t sleep because the downy soft pillows beneath your head were too soft, the scent of expensive cedar wood and apples that pervade the winery too unfamiliar, the cotton against your bare thighs different to your own ordinary night things - but Diluc, you realise, thinks you have been waiting for him.

You make a token attempt to struggle underneath his weight, your voice coming out a soft and reedy thing;

“M-Master Diluc, I’m flattered, but--”

A hot mouth finds your jawline; trails kisses from your ear to your throat. Fingers tug at the blanket covering you.

“You’re so pretty,” Diluc says, breathless. “I’m sorry, I can’t help myself--”

You squeak aloud as a big, bare hand lands on your thigh and slides up - searing heat from Diluc’s scarred, calloused palm leaving what you’re sure must be a visible trail. You struggle underneath him, fear suddenly feeling sharp and sour in your throat. 

“D-don’t!” You practically squeak it out, feeling tears rise to your eyes as you realise fully how hopeless the situation is - as the feel of Diluc’s fingers parting your legs reminds you of how much stronger he is than you, how much broader, how much more important he is in the grand scheme of all things.

“I’ve wanted you for months,” he says. “Y-you’ve driven me mad, I need you--”

You would never have guessed. You try and think back to all of the other times that you’ve seen Diluc since then; try to remember if he had seemed particularly out of sorts - but your mind comes up blank. He has never seemed particularly sweet on you compared to anyone else.

(You don’t know, of course, of the nights he’s spent with a fist curled around his cock and his teeth digging into his pillow to the thought of how soft you would be beneath him, how lovely you would look all helpless and bare for him). 

“D-Diluc,” you plead. “Please! W-we can court, I promise - we can g-go to concerts, and on walks, just please d-don’t--”

You cry out again as Diluc grunts against your ear, as you feel him shift and feel the unmistakable heavy heat of something between his legs digging into your bare thigh. He’s pulling up your shift, now - the blankets pulled down, the air cloyingly warm as it hits your newly freed skin.

(Does all air that swirls about Diluc turn warm? Or is he simply particularly emotional right now? You do not like either thought).

“You’re so pretty,” he repeats. “I can’t wait.”

You make another token attempt to struggle away beneath him - your hips wriggling, your mouth opening to cry out once more, your shoulders shaking from side to side as tears finally do spill down your cheeks. 

Diluc stops you from screaming for help with a forceful kiss.

“Don’t,” he says against your lips, so vulnerably tender it makes you feel sick. “I love you--”

You want to snap at him. You want to tell him this is not love - if it were, you wouldn’t be struggling, wouldn’t be fighting, wouldn’t be crying with your heart beating like a wounded animal - but there is nothing you can say as he muffles your protests with his mouth, as his teeth tug at your bottom lip and his tongue slips into your mouth like a thief in the night and drinks you in. 

Your hands are terribly ineffectual as you push at his broad shoulders. There is nothing you can do but lay beneath him and take it, even as one of his hands slides up your bare stomach and suddenly he is cupping your breast, fingers sliding over your nipple.

“So pretty,” he repeats, breaking the kiss, looking down at you with those crimson wine-dark eyes. “Don’t cry--”

“Stop it,” you tell him, brokenly, but it does not. Instead, his brows simply draw in.

“I need you,” he repeats, as if this makes it okay. And then, horrifyingly; “Please, let me . . . I’m sorry--”

Your throat is too dry to try screaming again. You have heard tell, before, that when someone is truly terrified they simply lose the ability to create sound - they try to scream, but no sound comes out. That is almost how it feels for you. You are frozen as he dips his head down, as he lathes his hot tongue over your nipples until they are hard and peaking under his ministrations. You want to scream - but nothing comes out except shallow gasps of breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, even as your shift has been pushed to your collarbones and your entire body is free to be drunk in by his adoring, sickeningly loving gaze. “Archons, you’re beautiful.”

You grow terribly used to his apologies.

Your throat lets you emit a high-pitched whimper as he parts your thighs - as one of those hot, calloused hands slips between them, to tease at the seam between your legs.

“Please,” Diluc is saying. “I’m sorry, please, you’re so pretty, I need to feel you,” he is saying, as one of his fingers slips between the lips of your sex to tease at your clit. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

Your hips squirm beneath him, trying to escape from the onslaught of his fingers over your pleasure point, but it is to no avail when his figure is so oppressively heavy on top of yours and your legs are spread apart with such strength. You suck in a pained breath as one of his fingers slips inside of you, coaxing wetness from you quite against your will.

Diluc kisses your cheeks where the tears have wetted them; murmurs more apologies in between heavy breaths that you know are of arousal. His thumb rubs over your clit instead, as his lone finger pumps in and out, trying to make sure you’re wet enough to take him.

That feeling - that calloused thumb, the rhythm of his heavy breathing and the soft whispers of how beautiful you are - they all leave you feeling confused underneath him as a hundred thoughts and feelings and sensations all swirl around in your head. 

(At least it is not his mouth), you think, as his thumb continues to tease pleasurable sparks from your clit. You do not know if you could handle looking down and seeing those crimson locks of hair between your thighs, deal with the thought of his tongue traversing the same plane that his fingers are.

“You feel so good,” Diluc mumbles, kissing across your neck, your collarbone, messy. “You’re so lovely . . . mine . . . you’re mine--”

Fingers curled just so, thumb rubbing at just the right angle with just the right pressure - and your orgasm sneaks up on you like a bandit ambush, as your hips thrust in surprise and you let out a whimper of pleasure-confusion, not understanding how this could be happening and still feel so good.

“That’s right,” Diluc breathes. “So good, so pretty . . . Ugh, I’m sorry, can’t hold it in any longer--”

He shifts whilst his fingers are still moving jerkily inside of you, little shivers of your retreating orgasm making you feel light-headed and confused. Something nudges between your thighs, slick and thick and hard.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, one more time, “I can’t help myself,” - and then, Diluc Ragnvindr is gently forcing his cock inside of your wet, yielding body.

He moves inside of you slowly, letting you get used to the stretch of him, caging you beneath him with strong arms either side of your head. The gaze that he keeps on you, though, never fades from anything other than adoring. He’s utterly besotted, you realise. He’s lovesick for you, and there’s nothing you can do right now but take the thrust of his cock as he slowly pumps it in and out.

“So beautiful,” he’s saying. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself--”

The planes of his abdomen rub against your already-swollen and sore clit.

. . . Would it be so bad? You’ve come for him once; and he is handsome and strong and he keeps telling you that he loves you . . . if there is no escape, why should you not simply melt into it? Surely nobody would think ill of you for giving in, when the stretch of his cock is making your thighs twitch and warmth sparkle in your stomach.

Diluc kisses you again, mumbles about how much he needs you - and instead of staying slack-mouthed beneath him, you hesitantly mouth back at his lips. Diluc groans, his eyelashes fluttering in pleasure.

His hips speed up. He’s still not rough with you - you think, from the uncoordinated slap of his hips and the mumbles and the dusting of flushed red on his cheeks that he has little experience - but he certainly becomes more enthusiastic.

“I knew you’d understand,” he slurs, pulling back before he peppers your cheeks and nose with more of them. “I knew-- we were meant to be together, darling, angel, pretty thing--”

A whimper-moan escapes your mouth unbidden and Diluc groans like he has just heard the music that angels play in Celestia. You force yourself to stop thinking of the series of events that lead you here. You force yourself to forget that he is fucking you against your will, that you protested him pushing his cock inside of you and cried as Diluc made excuses about how you were just too pretty to resist and he needed you so badly - and instead, you concentrate on the warm heat of being stretched open. 

. . . It does feel good. 

You hate that it feels good, but you are not willing to lie to yourself - and if you are here, if you have no choice . . . perhaps you ought to simply let yourself melt into it.

Your hands fly up to cling to Diluc’s broad shoulders - surprise flitters across his expression, but it’s quickly replaced by that adoration that is so thick you feel it settle in your bone marrow. 

“You feel so good,” he mumbles. “‘M sorry, ‘m getting carried away--” 

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. It doesn’t matter, as he begins to increase in speed and a soft moan escapes your mouth. It doesn’t matter how wet the sound of him driving in and out of you is, when you can simply concentrate on the flares of pleasure that are sparking in your lower stomach with every thrust. 

The pace increases - but all you do is sigh, arch your back, and let it.

Diluc keeps murmuring apologies interspersed with compliments interspersed with justification - I’m sorry you’re beautiful I needed to do this I’m sorry you’re so so pretty I needed to feel you I needed to have you I’m sorry I’m sorry - but you banish those, too, to a different part of your mind. You concentrate only on the thrust and the pull and the push.

The emptiness contrasted with the fullness, the pleasure points inside of you that Diluc finds with every cant of his hips. His mumbles become nothing more than background noise as the complicated cat’s-cradle of strings inside of you are pulled and manipulated, so taut that any of them could snap at any moment.

And then they do.

And pleasure washes over you anew.

You feel yourself come for him as his cock twitches inside of you; your body pulsing and spasming around him even as warmth fills your insides and Diluc comes, crowding your sex with his seed. Your thighs tremble in response as he grinds into you, eking out the very last drops of both of your orgasms.

(You force yourself not to think of how you came for him, and the shame therein; you made the best of a bad situation, you force yourself to say, even though the glow of two peaks has settled about you and warmed your cheeks and made you breathless). 

“You’re beautiful,” he rumbles again, as he pulls out - as his seed drips from your stretched hole, staining the sheets. His hand moves from caging you in - flitters nervously beside your cheeks, before he cups the soft skin and pulls you into another kiss.

You kiss him back in surprise. What else can you do?

“I love you,” Diluc says to you, simply, when the kiss ends - as if he hasn’t just taken something precious and intimate from you. “I know I should have waited . . . but having you here, beneath my roof, how pretty you looked all soaked from the rain . . . you understand, don’t you?” His fingers dig harder into your cheek. “You still love me, don’t you?”

You have never loved Diluc Ragnvindr.

You have never cared about him more than on a surface level; the pleasure of being flirted with by such a well-known, well-regarded figure, and the romantic daydream of being snatched away from a humdrum life by the lord of the manor. But Diluc is staring at you with something that you think is need writ clear in his eyes, and . . .

And you think about Monstadt.

You think of how they adore him; of all of the other people who would kill to be in your place, who wouldn’t have swallowed back tears as the most handsome and eligible man in the nation made love to them. You think of how easy it would be, for Diluc to ruin your reputation - for him to say that you seduced him into this, to pull sad faces and pass on whispers until you were fair run out of town. For Diluc to make you unimportant, to turn everyone you knew against you and make himself the victim of all this, spreading whispers about how cruel you are to spread rumours he would do something so heinous--

“I love you,” you choke out.

And Diluc smiles at you, bright like the moon, and you think that he never expected you to say anything but.

#non con cw #non-con cw #yandere diluc #not sfw #genshin impact posting #writing #yandere for ts #dark content for ts #dead dove do not eat #yandere genshin impact

[mrslittletall]

I want to type down my thoughts about Mohg Lord of Blood and how I interpret his story and lore. Please be aware that these are solely my headcanons and nobody has to abide by them. Also, this text will have mentions of incest and non-con. You have been warned. See the text under the cut. 

What do we know about Mohg? Not much actually. As always, canon gives us very little. We only have a few stated things. 

- He is an omen and the twin brother of Morgott. Both of them were raised and shackled in the sewers. 

- He claimed a shard of the Elden Ring for himself, like each of Marika’s children. 

- He decided to take Miquella away from the Haligtree. It is heavily implied that it was an abduction. We can see him carrying away Miquella’s unconscious body in the intro sequence of the game. 

- He is living up to his accursed blood and has formed a whole magic system around it.

- He is involved with an outer god, the Formless Mother. 

- He wants to ascend the cursed Miquella to full godhood. 

- He created a dynasty that he wants to rule over. 

Where do we start with Mohg? Probably his childhood because it sucked. Omen are a sign of the Crucible and therefore the Golden Order is not happy about him, so Marika and Godfrey tossed their twins into the sewers. It can be argued that maybe Godfrey sometimes visited them or that they only got tossed into the sewers after some time passed, but ultimately, both Mohg and Morgott suffered from parental neglect and abandonment and both of them suffered quite some trauma from it. 

Here I have to say, Morgott and Mohg are two sides of the same coin. They suffered the same abuse, but both of them decided to cope very differently with it. Morgott coped by rejecting his omen blood, seeing it as the curse the Golden Order wants it to be and fully leaning into their beliefs. Even though Morgott had so much love to give for the Golden Order and the Erdtree, the Erdtree and the Golden Order never loved him back, trapping him in a cycle of self-hatred. 

Mohg, on the other hand, decided to fully embrace his accursed blood. We don’t know why exactly, but we know that he had his blood pots as a child already, so I like to think the Formless Mother contacted him at an early age, helping to put him on his path. Mohg never knew how it was to be loved by his parents and down the way he lost his brother to the Golden Order, so he got a very twisted and wrong idea of love. 

For Mohg, love is something that needs to be taken and given by force. He doesn’t really get the concept of consent, he is utterly convinced that if he loves someone, then that one will love him back. It doesn’t matter that they had to be kidnapped, they are part of the Mohgywn Dynasty now and the Mohgwyn Dynasty is all about love. Characters like Varre who have a fanatic devotion to Mohg only strengthen this point. 

What did Mohg do during the shattering? He surely claimed one of the shards of the Elden Ring for himself, because that is what the Great Runes are. But other than his siblings, he didn’t partake in the war. Because Mohg has no interest in the Elden Ring as a whole or to be the ruler of Leyndell. 

Mohg wants to have his own kingdom to rule, the Mohgwyn Dynasty, a kingdom of blood, a dynasty he can be the ruler and founder of. I think like Ranni, Mohg fucked off to do his own thing while all the sieges during the Shattering happened. He had no interest in fighting them and also, why should he claim someone else’s kingdom if it would not be his? Why should he risk his life fighting the undefeated Malenia or the Starscourge? 

No, instead, Mohg did his thing mostly in secret. He abducted the war surgeons, he experimented with the bloody fingers, he recruited several sanguine nobles, who either are omens like him or humans that altered their body once they got a taste of his blood. Mohg was patiently and silently building up his army. From the war surgeons, only Varre is active, because he is the only one who has mind intact, and his goal is to recruit more Tarnished into Bloody Fingers. The sanguine nobles are roaming the Land’s Between, probably searching for more recruits to be kidnapped, which doesn’t work with our Tarnished because they turn into grace upon dying. 

Yes, it might be argued why they also attack when you are a Bloody Finger, but that is just game play shenanigans and not really proof of the lore.

So where does Miquella come in all this? So first thing first, I am absolutely convinced that Mohg genuinely loves Miquella. He probably was at the Haligtree for some time and met him there. When it came to start his dynasty, Mohg needed someone to start the dynasty with, so it was Miquella he took. 

And also, MIquella is an empyrean. That was perfect for Mohg, because he isn’t an empyrean. Now the question is… why does Mohg need an empyrean?

These are only speculations, but looking at the other empyreans, pretty much all of them are associated with an outer god. 

Marika -> The Greater Will

Ranni -> The Dark Moon

Malenia -> The Scarlet Rot

We don’t know about Miquella, but I think it might also have been the Greater Will, because according to Ranni, the two fingers are assigning empyreans. Ranni cast her great rune and flesh away to escape her fate, but she stayed an empyrean and I guess the dark moon is the outer god that spoke to her and had similar plans to her goals. 

Malenia is downright cursed with her outer god. It was one of the things that Miquella tried to get rid of. He was creating an item that can delete the influence of an outer god. 

So, Mohg is also associated with an outer god. The Formless Mother. 

What is Mohg not? An empyrean. 

It could very well be that the Formless Mother asked for an empyrean, that she needs an empyrean present to be fully able to come into the world, to interact with it, to be able to be hit by Mohg’s trident. 

Yes, I know, we can also do the same thing when we use Mohg’s trident, but during that time Miquella and the Formless Mother are still around, it is simply Mohg that is missing. Besides, we are carrying around his great rune which might also have relevance to why it works. 

So, Mohg wants to start a dynasty. He cannot start a dynasty on his own, so he needed Miquella. The Formless Mother probably needed an empyrean. So Mohg could kill two birds with one stone. He could get his love and an empyrean at the same time. 

Is Miquella on board with this?

Honestly, I don’t think so. From the little lore we have of him, he seems to care mostly about his sister and the Haligtree. There is no reason for him to leave the Haligtree and let it fall to the rot and there is no reason for him to leave his sister behind to play around with Mohg. It might even be possible that he stayed asleep in his cocoon on purpose. “Mohg did not receive a response from the young empyrean”. 

I interpret it in a way that Miquella was in love with Malenia. More than the love of siblings. And maybe Malenia shared the sentiment, as her brother was one of the only ones not afraid of her rot. Either way, it probably was a very codependent relationship. Mohg pretty much took the opportunity when Malenia was exhausted or away to snatch MIquella away and she didn’t even notice that Miquella was gone, ever guarding a brother that was not there anymore. 

We could also get into Malenia, but the text is already long enough. 

So, Mohg is forcing Miquella to undergo transformation that he didn’t consent to and maybe even forced himself on his sleeping body. Oh who am I kidding, it is kinda canon that he is coursing around in blood form in Miquella’s veins. If that is sexual or not is up to your own interpretation, but there is a certain intimacy to literally flow in the veins of your beloved. 

Also, Mohg feels to me like… a very spiteful character. He was told his whole life that he is cursed and hated and should be locked away, so he totally embraced it. “You called me a monster, now I show you what kind of monster I can be.” But he also is surprisingly gentle, only that he has the problem that he doesn’t get or doesn’t want to take a no, forcing his love on anyone, if they want or not. And the worst thing is, Mohg is entirely genuine with his feelings. He doesn’t even think that he does something wrong, because that is how he understands love. As something that has to be taken by force and surely everyone else agrees to it. 

I am absolutely convinced that Mohg wants to rule over his dynasty. It is called Mohgwyn and he calls himself the Lord of Blood. He doesn’t call it Miquellawyn and he doesn’t call himself “Miquella’s consort”. If he would not want the power, he would not make it so clear that he is the lord, he would not dress himself in such fancy robes and he would not be interested in keeping Miquella “his and his alone.” 

Mohg feels very very obsessive to me. He cannot bear the thought that Miquella could be taken away. Taken, not that Miquella would leave him. Because Mohg is convinced that love has to be taken, not earned. When the Tarnished comes and doesn’t kneel in front of him, he doesn’t even consider they are there for his rune, he thinks they are there for Miquella. 

“Miquella is mine, and mine alone.” 

He repeated that over and over when I fought him, each time when I died. That does not sound like someone to me who is not interested in power or who managed to convince Miquella to come to him of his own free will. 

Mohg is possessive, spiteful, embraces his nature as an omen, deeply religious to the Formless Mother and he doesn’t want anyone to kick him around. That is what Mohgwyn is about. Mohgwyn is his and his alone. Just like Miquella is his and his alone. 

Mohg is coping with his trauma by forcing his love on others and creating a kingdom around the concept of love, a twisted and sick concept of love, but love nonetheless.

For the Moghwyn dynasty… with love! 

So, does Mohg have an ultimate goal? I guess after he has built up his Dynasty, he might try and seize the Land’s Between and try to get his order of blood out there, but his plan is still very early, so there was no way that he could create a mending rune for the Elden Ring that would create the “Order of Blood”. No Lord of Blood ending unfortunately… 

He is optional in game, but if he is killed, then his plan cannot come into fruition anyway. If not.. well, the DLC seems to be Miquella centric, so maybe we learn something more about the whole deal. We simply have to wait and see.

Like I said, in the beginning. These are simply my thoughts and headcanons about Mohg. Nobody has to agree with them. I simply looked at the lore and came to my own conclusion. I am not attacking anyone specific with this text, I just wanted to put down my own interpretation of Mohg’s character and lore with the little tidbits of information I have seen in canon. 

Mohg is a deeply fascinating character to me and I would like to write him with nuance. I hope that I will succeed in the future, when I am able to get back to my writing.  

#elden ring #mohg lord of blood #character analysis #incest cw #non-con cw

[much-ado-about-whumping]

Meet Mercy

It's been a while since I posted something original of mine here, but I think I might be due! Many, many thanks to the magnificent @newbornwhumperfly for transcribing this for me from a stream-of-consciousness Discord sketch. (I meant to post this in Mermay, but didn't quite make it - here it is a little late.)

Enter my genderfucky merfolk, Mercy.

Background: The creature who will come to be known as Mercy is captured by some sailors, roughly analogous to Age of Sail British imperialists but, like, in a fantasy way.

Content notes: Non-con, captivity, language barrier, dehumanization (of someone who isn't exactly human, but is human-like in sentience), experimentation, hurt/no comfort (for this installment), bondage, fantasy creature biology, sorta dysphoria, and some VERY FUCKY gender stuff, including essentially non-consensual hormone therapy. Trans readers, approach with caution; this was cathartic for me but might be painful for you, depending on your particular deal. You can DM me if you'd like more specific warnings for this piece.

Readers must be age 18+ for this one, friends.

---

The sailors think, at first, that their net has caught a very large fish. But they heave and haul and the furious thing they bring aboard has a torso, has arms, has a face, has a voice.

They don't know what he needs at first. They try to give him fresh water with his food, but it makes him sick. He thrashes in his ropes and screams words they don't understand, and it's only when someone dumps a bucket of icy brine over him as a punishment that they realize he's drying out. He needs salt water, not fresh.

And they touch him. All over. Inspect him. It's under a day before someone tries to fuck his mouth. He yowls and bites and his teeth are sharp and they curse him, hit him, bash his head against the deck.

They pry his mouth open with some piece of ship hardware and try again. They grow bored. Go exploring on his body while he squirms. Find his ass and fuck it while he screams and thrashes.

He cries his eyes raw. Feels like he can't breathe. Gets doused in salt water again, and he recovers, but he's damaged—

And he learns bits of their language.

Learns suck.

Learns still.

Learns down.

Water. Eat. Bitch.

He learns, in one bizarre encounter, hurts, when one of them tends to a cut on his brow. He hisses, pulls away. The sailor looks at him with a little sympathy.

"Hurts?" the sailor asks. He dabs gently, tentatively at the cut. Mercy hisses again. But the sailor only grips his jaw, not unkindly. Tries again.

Over his shoulder, someone teases him. Asks how his girlfriend is doing. The sailor waves him off. Says, "Even a beast deserves a little mercy."

He says it as he rubs a balm over the cut. Something that soothes the pain. The merman gazes at him, hopeless.

"Mercy?" he repeats quietly.

The sailor studies him for a moment. 

"You know, I think there is something going on behind his eyes," he says to his comrades.

Drops Mercy's chin. Leaves him to shiver, curled up, trembling in the corner by the barrels while the others drink.

Later that night, the merman screams mercy, mercy, mercy as they use him - and again the next day, and the next. That's how he gets his name.

And maybe, one day, they're exploring other ways to hurt him. To touch him. They have him stretched out, bound. The journey will take a month, at least, so there's no rush in examining him before they have to sell the poor thing off.

They find a sensitive spot beneath each of his arms, in the hollow where underarm meets breast. A little soft place, springy. When they press on it, he screams. It hurts. Like it's something deep inside him, something that isn't supposed to be touched. And he recoils, as if they've touched a very private place.

They keep pushing. Prodding. Massaging.

And something seems to shift. His flesh grows a little softer. His body slightly changes shape. It takes an hour of massaging him, but by the end he has soft little tits, a touch of padding where his hips would be if he were human. 

They maneuver him while he sobs, hurt and exhausted, and find...a cunt. Small. Tight. Like it needs more time to develop. But they can get a finger in right from the start. And they do.

Mercy wails.

Thrashes and fights and screams and screams and screams.

But the fingers come back, massaging the glands beneath his arms. Stretching his cunt open bit by bit. When they can fit two fingers inside, the sailors get impatient. One of them rams into him.

He screams like he's dying.

But they keep going, going, going, and when it's all over, Mercy is left torn and leaking. Crying softly. Half-hoping he'll drain out and die before they notice. No such luck - he's doused again and again, and eventually set him in a barrel of seawater to keep him hydrated.

Her. To keep her hydrated.

She's been female before. It isn't the femaleness she minds. But it takes weeks, usually. Her body is still reeling from being forced through the change in hours. She's aching. And they keep using her like this. They do it again, again - take pleasure in switching back and forth.

She's always tired. 

He always hurts.

His old name feels like a distant memory. Her body doesn't feel like hers.

#non-con cw #dysphoria cw #merfolk biology is wacky i've decided #genderfluid merperson has a bad time #mermix mercy #captivity cw #beatings cw #bel's ocs #bel's writing #experimentation whump cw #dehumanization cw #raye thank you so much for your help with this #don't worry; he gets VERY good comforts down the line #but for now: #hurt no comfort

[yuzu-adagio]

based on your likes: non-con kink!

alright let's back up a little there tumblr

#non-con cw #rape cw #this should be tagged as something

[needleanddead]

I WANT TO SEE THE FICLET!?!?@? no rush ofc!! but i am intruiged about lucas ficlet just saying 😳😳 i am. on the watch with the notifications on

does almost 2k still constitute a ficlet. unknown. anyway, anon . . . i hope that this notif pleases you <3

cw: not-quite-somno, non-con, reader is most assuredly not into this one, pet names, forced intimacy, threats, alcohol mentions. reader is as neutral of body and pronouns as i could make them.

You can never get used to how quiet it is here.

You hadn't realised how used to the sounds of the city you'd become; how the buzz and hum and roar of electricity and cars and people just outside of your window had all become a comforting lullaby. You suppose that it's no wonder, really, how long it takes you to fall asleep in Lucas's bed.

There's the other snag, of course.

Lucas's bed.

If it weren't enough that the world outside of the cabin is almost silent, aside from the rushing of the wind and the occasional sound of animal . . . the fact that you're sleeping in your kidnapper's bed. He's not here, of course; had mumbled something about being a gentleman before he'd offered you the more comfortable spot. You'd padded out into the hallway, once, in the middle of the night, just to make sure that he wasn't watching you - and there he'd been, sprawled out on the sofa, fast asleep. He's been out here long enough to not be bothered by eerie silence.

You'd felt bad about how his bulk was clearly not a good match for a good night's rest on the worn old sofa - and then you'd thought about the too-big shirt you were wearing, and how he had pulled it out for you from a drawer in the bedroom that had been full of all manner of nightclothes - from frothy soft nightgown concotions of lace and chiffon to flannel pyjamas in varying sizes. Those could not all belong to Lucas.

(There's the cuts of meat, too, that he brings in from his store room. There are the abandoned sketchbooks in the office room, the unfinished sewing projects, when Lucas has not seemed at all artistically inclined. The weapons on the wall. The blood stains on his clothes, in the laundry--)

He's always so gentle with you, but you're not a fool.

Lucas is not an innocent man, and this was never going to last.

You're barely asleep. You're floating in that strange in-between existence, where the air feels heavy around you and everything that happens may or may not be a dream, when you feel the bed shift. There's something heavy and warm above you - something on you, moving over the covers. In your not-quite-awake state, you think it might be a dog. You blink syrupy slow, but then a voice low and dark and grit-rough soothes you gently;

"Shh, darlin'. Don't worry. Go t'sleep. I ain't gonna hurt you."

It's familiar, but you are not all there. The bed feels too soft, like you're sinking into nothing. There's a voice, muffled, at the very back of your head - a voice that whispers that you're in danger, and you should keep your wits about you - but it's not loud enough to overrule the part of your mind that thinks you are still sleeping.

That gruff, strangely comforting voice keeps speaking

"Can't wait any longer," it's murmuring to itself. "Got to--"

Cool air against your collarbone. Against your arm. The coverlets, gently and slowly pulled down. This doesn't feel right. Against all desires, you will your eyes open - and your gaze meets sharp green, clouded with something that you don't yet understand.

"Ain't you somethin'?" Lucas murmurs, as if he hasn't registered that you're waking up. One rough, calloused palm reaches for your face and cups it, thumb stroking over your cheek, tilting your chin upwards. You go stock-still in the terror of realisation as he leans into you inexorably slowly and presses a kiss at once feather-light and lingering against your lips.

"I--" You try and say something, but your throat is still clogged up with sleep. "Lucas-- I'm not--"

"I can't wait any more," he tells you, and though the reality of what he is saying is beginning to hit with startling, frightening clarity, his voice remains low and tender. "I've gotta, sweetheart. Ain't I been kind to you? Been a gentleman long as I can--"

You realise that there's the faintest hint of the taste of bourbon lingering on your lips where he kissed you.

"Don't," you try and insist, making your sleep-leadened limbs move despite how much they want to stay still. You shouldn't antagonise him, you think dimly. Not when there are so many blades shining sharp and bright in the house. "N-not yet. I'm not ready yet--"

He doesn't even seem to hear you. Big, rough hands come to grip onto your hips, man-handling you as easily as if you were a rag-doll.

"You drive me crazy," he tells you, slowly pushing up the too-big shirt. You wince, trying to curl in on yourself to protect some kind of modesty - but Lucas doesn't seem to care. He carries on. "I can't stop thinkin' about how cute you'd look bent in half for me--"

Almost your entire top half is bare to his gaze now. His eyes crawl over it, soft but clouded.

"Oh," he breathes. "Oh, darlin'."

This is going to happen, isn't it? Fingers hooking into your underwear, dragging it down your thighs. Your mind churns. You're still not all awake, still not all in possession of your senses - and as Lucas's grip goes to part your legs and a kind of crawling all-consuming fear rises sour in your throat, you can't think of anything else to do.

You scream.

Lucas is fast.

His face twists in anger, and then a big hand is slapping over your mouth, so hard that if it had been a different angle you're not certain he wouldn't have knocked out a tooth. Staring up at his face like that, you can't help but wonder if that's what he looks like, axe in hand. If this expression is the same one all of those other people have seen before they've died - and, of course, if you're going to become one of that number.

But Lucas has kept a thread of his temper.

"No," he says. "Don't you dare. I'll break your neck, sweetheart. I'll snap your wrists. Keep that pretty mouth shut, understand?"

You stare up at him in abject terror. This is a different man to the one you've seen so far. You've known he was capable of it - the bloodstains are proof enough of that - but you've never seen it directed at you. You've had Lucas's arms wrapped around you in front of a roaring fire, watched him dote on chickens and call them by name from the doorway, had his hand on your waist and unerringly gentle instruction on cooking a joint of some-kind-of-meat--

"Y'gonna be good? Y'gonna behave?"

You feel a tear roll down your cheek, and you nod at him. You'll be quiet. You will, you will, you will--

His face softens just a little at the sight of the tears. And then, he shifts, and it hits you in a hideously embarrassing and equally sickening rush that the sight of your tears has done nothing to quell his desire. In fact - as he leans down and presses kisses against your forehead and your cheeks - it becomes clear that the sight of you crying has only stoked it.

Calloused fingers part your legs entirely, pushing your knees against your chest so you're quite utterly exposed to his hungry gaze. That gaze, too, is intense in everything that churns within it - that might be affection, might be lust, might be need. You're suddenly horrifically aware of how much Lucas's bed smells like him, of how undeniably his the cabin and the room and everything around you is.

(Of how much you belong to him. Of how there's nobody for miles who will have heard that scream.)

Rough hands on the bare skin of your hips once more, pulling you forward. The sound of a zipper. Something damp smearing along your leg. Something hot and hard, pressing against the parts of you spread wide--

Your fists clench into bedsheets. Lucas is looking down at you, all disgusting tenderness and adoration.

"Shit," Lucas mumbles, as he pushes mercilessly forward. He’s big. "Sweetheart." Too big. He's beginning to thrust, shallowly, and you are not properly prepared for it. All you can think about is how it hurts, and hot tears bead in the corners of your eyes against your will. He sees them and practically melts into you, beginning to slowly fall into a rhythm. His eyes are blown wide now, mouth parted - and he leans into you, pressing hot, hungry kisses against your skin. "Fuck. I love you, darlin'. I love you I love you I love you--"

Your stomach lurches. His eyes are still warm, staring down at you - clouded with delusion, now. You can't bring yourself to tell him that you love him back. You do your best to stifle the sobs - you're too frightened to close your eyes, too aware of his threats, but you try to ignore the insistent push thrust push of him inside of you. He doesn't seem to care. He's simply huffing and grunting and fucking you. The jingle of his dog tags with every rock of his body feels like it’s going to echo in your head forever.

You lose sense of time with him inside of you. It might have been five minutes. God, it might have been an hour - what do you know, with your heart like stone and your blood like ice? All you can say with real confidence is that as Lucas's hips thrust and thrust and use you and his mouth kisses and gasps and his hands caress and squeeze--

He does not for a moment stop telling you that he loves you.

When he comes, you feel it - he bites into your shoulder with blunt teeth of another soft groan of how much he adores you. Loves you. Will always keep you safe.

(You want to laugh at the last one. You have never felt less safe in your entire life.)

And it fills you up, settling hot and heavy inside of you and leaking as he pulls himself out, rolls off of you and curves his arms around you as if this is a perfectly normal embrace of a perfectly normal couple.

"You did so fuckin' good, angel," he breathes, peppering kisses up your face, not for a moment passing comment on the tears still drying on your cheeks or the fact he threatened to break your neck. "Not so bad, is it?" He tightens his grip. "Look how well you fit in my arms. S'like you was meant to be there, isn't it?"

It doesn't feel like that at all. His arms are warm, certainly; in another lifetime, in a hundred other scenarios, he'd be comforting and strong and sure as he cradled you against him and perhaps you would feel like you were meant to be there. But in this lifetime . . . your legs feel sticky. Your heart is pounding. You feel Lucas's lips curl into a smile against your neck.

"Go t'sleep," he rumbles, as he pulls you into an embrace so tight it's a wonder you can breathe. "I'll make breakfast in the mornin'. You'll probably be sore."

Lucas falls asleep quicker than you do, and you find yourself straining to listen to the outside world; to hear rain on the cabin roof or the wind through the trees, or some other reminder that you are not as alone as you feel.

Even with Lucas's deep, even breathing right against your ear, the cabin is just too quiet.

You don't think you'll ever get a good night's sleep again.

#🦇 pip writes #lucas tag #non con cw #non-con cw

[anamelessdragon]

broking power | Chapter 10 | 7.1k

by NamelessDragon (@anamelessdragon)

_____________________

Summary:

It was dark. He was in pain. 

“It’s active. The first round is queued up.”

Something was buzzing. Roaring. He couldn’t form a thought before the intensity of it forced his mind apart. 

“Conscious. Barely. I know what I’m doing.”

He tried to move but his muscles were locked up, rigid with agony that lashed through every inch of his body. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t escape. 

“I know. Believe me. Half dead and transport was still a nightmare. But this will work.”

He didn’t know where he was. If he’d ever leave. If it would ever end.

“Good. If she had just taken the damn offer I wouldn’t have had to do it. Trying to challenge the Power Broker.”

The Power Broker. He… there was… something…

“And now thanks to her we have Captain Goddamned America rampaging Madripoor’s skies.”

Sam.

Someone moved, came in close. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll clean up this mess.”

The roaring buzz got louder, and chased away everything else.

-----------

The consequences of the trade to Selby are more far reaching and lasting than anyone could have prepared for. When Bucky goes missing, the reality of that hits home hard. (Direct sequel to unjust means. Post-TFATWS.)

Pairings/Characters: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes, appearances by the general TFATWS cast

Warnings: Chapter 10 - angst, descriptions of injuries, torture

Notes: RL has been a doozy in interfering with fic progress! The California storms in January were a huge money drain that required me doubling up on work to make up for, then we had our first snow in 40 years which led to further issues, and now we have more torrential rains and floods. Luckily, beyond a few weeks of lost power and a good portion of my clientele not being able to make it in/me not wanting to enact cancellation policy penalties for, you know, them missing their appointments due to natural disasters, everything financially-related is kind of okay and stabilizing. But not enough for me to promise anything like regular updates just yet, especially considering I just had a 4.1k emergency with one of my pups that will again be motivation for overtime going forward.

I can say that I have plans for this story and think about it often, and wish I didn't have to go so long between chapters. I appreciate every comment and kudos left, and am especially sorry I didn't get around to responding to last chapter's comments.

This fic is going to be long - certainly 100k+. So, for those of you hoping for the comfort - it will eventually come, and it will be plentiful.

But not this chapter.

Read on AO3.

#nameless fic #broking power #non-con cw

[darksidefuta]

Self Promo

Are you looking for a multi-muse blog where the muses are chicks with dicks? With more depraved/darker themes such as non-con/dub-con, and sex slavery? Then this might be the blog for you! Featuring muses from multiple fandoms like DC Universe, Fire Emblem, Fate/, RWBY, and many others. There's even a few fandomless OCs!

Like and/or reblog this if you're interested, and please read the rules and muse list before interacting!

#rp promo #roleplay promo #indie smut rp #indie smut roleplay #indie rp promo #non con tw #non-con tw #non con cw #non-con cw #non con #non-con #dub con tw #dub-con tw #dub con cw #dub-con cw #dub con #dub-con #sex slavery tw #sex slavery cw #sex slavery

[rolkstone]

MAYBE, CAN YOU DRAW VIKTOR AND WAYNE IN COLOR PALETTE MEME(TUSK)?

warnings: non-con, abusive relationship, mild injuries

x

#viktor x wayne #myart #color palette meme #abusive relationship cw #non-con cw #violence cw

[cobwebs-in-autumn]

Hngggggg. Nikto being balls deep inside you, face buried into your shoulder, murmuring in Russian about how perfect you are, how tight and warm and loving. Made for him. Reparations from the universe for all his pain and suffering. He’ll never leave you, never. He is yours and you are his. He doesn’t care if he has to chain you to him and throw away the key.

#call of duty #cod #cobweb writes #cw: non-con #Nikto #nikto x reader

[wri0thesley]

(tw noncon, implied coercion at the end) nat, this is so bad but hnngggg thinking of passed out, inebriated reader after having too many drinks in angels share. the tops of your thighs are exposed, your soft chest is pressed against the floor, and your face is cutely scrunched up in exhaustion. diluc's absolutely foaming at the mouth as his hand reaches at the hem of your skirt, and he nearly cums at the sight of your bare cunt oozing out your slick. he darts out a single finger to scoop out your wetness, his hands nearly trembling as they make contact with your puffy pussy. "taste so good-" he pathetically grunts, his cock is already bulging through his pants, enamored with your taste. its already closing time, no ones arriving until early morning and he's all alone with the girl he likes the most. you're unconscious as he plays with your soft body, cupping a few squeezes of your chest and fingering you with his thick fingers, even through the rough pounding into your tight sex. the tavern owner looks so sloppy thrusting into you, only his thick cock disappearing inside you as you cling unto him even in your unconscious state. your tight walls feel so good squeezing unto him, and your soft moans only serve to taunt him as he rubs at your clit. you finally awake after hours of cumming and you sob at your sore cunt being bred by diluc. you're in a haze, you looked so confused and scared like this and he barely has enough strength to not kiss you stupid right there. his beloved who always slips past his fingertips. he's so rough with his calloused hands gripping your hips, bouncing on you in his hard length, trapping you against the counter, babbling nonsense about how much he's desired you mind, body, and soul. "d-diluc!" you shriek, the feeling of copius cum oozing out of you and painting a puddle below your feet. your clothes are wrinkled, sloppily removed to reveal your chest and diluc finds himself cumming for the nth time of the time. you want to cry as his hot load sears your insides, his large hand lifting his reddened tip to spoon his semen into your hole once again. you still feel full as he slaps his cock over your puffy cunt, rubbing your sore lips as he pants in ecstasy - he finally seals a kiss on your mouth and you squirm as he sucks on your tongue, saliva dripping down unto the both of you. it was so lewd, and it felt like you were being devoured. the nerve of him to pant pathetically, eyes downtrodden and panting like a dog in heat. he whispers his affections for you but you could only focus on how sore your body is, love bites riddled across your skin and hot cum dripping out of you. for the following days, he's excited at your nightly routine - you presenting your cunt to him beginning the session by tapping the head of his dick at your entrance, easily making you squirm at the feeling. he's like a virgin boy who's about to get laid for the first time since he never tires at the image of you sobbing, your perfect tits bouncing and your tight hole wrapped around his length taking it all like a dream. its even more embarassing when his load drips out of you as he forces you to continue to drink your alcoholic beverage - and you hate it even more when he slides down to rub at your clit as if to return the favor for you sucking him behind the counter earlier - like a man who can't keep their hands off their lover -- slapped//

oh and he would feel so BAD about it. obviously he'd never take advantage of his customers, but he's wanted you for so long that for once . . . he just can't control himself. and you drunk yourself into a stupor, didn't you? how would you know that you didn't beg him for this, that you weren't draping yourself all over him and fluttering eyelashes until diluc - ever the gentleman! - decided to take pity upon you and give you what you wanted?

#nat.txt #non con cw #not sfw text #genshin impact posting #gaslighting cw #coercion cw #non-con cw #dark content cw #alcohol for ts

[konigsblog]

what if… ghost was our boyfriend’s older brother or dad🫦

LOVE this idea :3

cw: cheating, non-con, weed use, blackmail.🍃

your boyfriend's older brother is an asshole - you can sense that his intentions aren't pure whatsoever, his perverted gaze lingering on your body when you sleep over at your boyfriend's house. he tells you, you need someone older - someone that's experienced.

simon is currently visiting, and seeing your presence was causing his hung cock to throb and ache inside his tight boxers, gripping his bulge whilst staring at you, tutting quietly to get your attention.

you had only come downstairs to get a glass of water, exhausted and ready to go back to sleep in your boyfriend's arms. through your tiredness, you decided to comply not to upset or anger simon, and perhaps your perception of simon was wrong - perhaps you were judging too soon. his hands began wandering, watching you fight sleep, barely able to keep his filthy and grimey fingers from exploring as he growled at you for squirming away.

“c’mon, stay still-- jus’ tryna have a conversation...” his voice deepened, became husky and gravelly. he offered you a hit from his joint in an attempt to relax you, watching you take a few hits as the smell of marijuana assaulted your nostrils and your body quickly became relaxed, whimpering quietly. you felt relaxed, breathing out quietly, and through your drugged state, you couldn't keep simon off of you.

he slid your panties down, admiring the way your slicken cunt glistened as he ran a finger through your folds. you bit on the two calloused digits he'd forced into your mouth to muffle your moans, chuckling as he grinded his bulbous and weeping cock into your wet pussy. you didn't even notice the flash on his phone as you threw your head back and gasped at the sensation of his tip against your cervix, bruising you with each thrust.

you cried out through pleasure, too drugged and high to realise what you were doing and its impact. simon's sturdy hips and muscular thighs pressed against your ass as he threw your supple legs over his shoulder, fucking even deeper into your warm, drooling pussy. you gripped simon's hair firmly in attempt to stabilise yourself as you became light-headed, breathing in his spicy and musky cologne as he fucked you stupid on his fat dick, tight and heavy balls pressed against your ass, your moans coming out broken and stuttered as he brutalised your cunny.

the realisation set in the morning after, as you came downstairs, realising what you'd done. guilt and shame hung in the air and churned your stomach, and you prayed that he'd keep quiet about this, understand that it was an accident - that it wasn't supposed to happen !

...only to be pulled aside, his large hand over your mouth as he wrapped an burly and strong arm around your neck, forcing you to watch the video recording of him fucking you, his veiny dick thrusted into your slicken pussy repetitively, and your facial expressions shameful and perverted in hindsight. you didn't even realise, a drugged mess getting fucked relentlessly.

he'll keep it a secret, yeah? with the promise that you'll suck him off and let him corrupt your mind every time he sees you.

and what choice do you really have? you either break up with your boyfriend who you claim to love so dearly, or pleasure your boyfriend's older brother in the hopes he'll keep quiet about this mess.

#orla speaks #tw: non con #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #tw: dark content #tw: age gap #tw: age difference #cw: weed #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost headcanon #mw2 ghost

[diejager]

It got deleted again 😂

Thoughts on dark childhood best friend!Johnny! Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, thigh fucking, somnophilia, tell me if I missed any.

He’s always been a bit touchy since you were kids, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing your cheek or even pressing himself against you whenever he could. It had always been innocent as kids, some kind of puppy-love that you were willing to give back, looking for him whenever you were out, eyes cued to look for the familiar blues that you came to love so much. You were neighbours, living right across from him in a quaint house, unbothered by many siblings that his mother kept popping out.

Your mother was sweet, letting him come by whenever he wanted to escape the hectic mess of his house, and you were the sweetest thing he’d ever known. You were so willing to act as his distraction, pulling him away from the chaos and into your safe haven : your room. It quickly became his room as much as it was yours, he spent so many nights sleeping in your room, sharing your bed with him, his arms wrapped around your hip and face nuzzled in your hair.

Once puberty rolled in, his voice deepening and facial hair growing, he started packing more weight and strength, his ego swelling with all the dopey eyes he received from girls his age and older, but they never strayed from you. He only had eyes for you, his best friend. They roved over your aging body, your breast swelling and hips becoming a dangerous temptation to him. He knew you looked at him as nothing but your best friend, the guy you grew up playing with and sharing happy moments, but he couldn’t stop the growing tent in his briefs when he jumped in bed with you at night.

He didn’t feel guilty about getting hard at the sight of you in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, it was natural, a reaction towards the opposite sex being so clearly comfortable with him. He became much more intimate with the placements of his hands, they would slip under your shirt, over the softness of your stomach and under your growing boobs. Despite your protest and sleepy grumble, he’d steal a touch of your pebbled nipples, round and hard before dipping down your waist and placing them a bit too high on your thighs to be considered platonic.

You complained but rarely retaliated because he reasoned with you that a lot of best friends were this touchy, grinding your ass when you were sleeping on your stomach, groping your softness while he panted and groaned, his cock leaking a wet patch on his pants. This was normal, he had rights to you that none other had because Johnny was your childhood best friend.

“One more, Bonnie,” he gasped, gazing at your lips, open and glistening with drool while you slept, unaware that he was rutting against your thigh, “A need one more, please.”

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap x reader smut #soap x reader #dark cod #tw: dark content #dark content #tw dubcon #tw: dub con #tw: dubcon #dub con #dubious consent #cw: somno #tw somnophilia #tw: somnophilia #cw: non con #tw noncon #tw: non con #tw: noncon #non con #dead dove do not eat #soap smut #Cbf!johnny #john soap mctavish smut

[anamelessdragon]

broking power | Chapter 9 | 8.9k

by NamelessDragon (@anamelessdragon)

_____________________

Summary:

Sam couldn’t remember the nightmare that jolted him awake on the floor of Sharon’s parlor. He could sure as hell feel the aftermath, what with his pulse thudding in his ears and his neck muscles practically seizing with tension while his overtaxed adrenal glands flooded his veins after what was way too little rest to justify using them again this soon.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He hadn’t thought he could fall asleep, after Sharon had gone upstairs and left him with all that jittery energy inside him, the pain in his leg, and that awful feeling that made him want to stare at the ceiling and contemplate exactly every single one of the life choices that had led him to this role.

When Bucky’d finally made his painful way down from the bathroom and then hung back from Sam like a nervous dog, that urge hadn’t gotten any weaker.

But then Bucky had come over and sat down next to him, and things hadn’t been okay, exactly, but he’d felt a little bit more like they were in it together instead of falling apart from each other.

He felt a little less like that now, seeing as at some point during his unplanned nap Bucky had up and left him.

-----------

The consequences of the trade to Selby are more far reaching and lasting than anyone could have prepared for. When Bucky goes missing, the reality of that hits home hard. (Direct sequel to unjust means. Post-TFATWS.)

Pairings/Characters: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes, appearances by the general TFATWS cast

Warnings: Chapter 9 - angst, descriptions of injuries, aftermath of torture

Read on AO3.

#nameless fic #broking power #non-con cw

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE BURGLARY

written with @milla-frenchy

Pairing: burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller

Summary: two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

TW: 18+ mdni. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. NON-CON. Smut. Violence, suffocation, knife/gun play, penetration with a gun, mfm, bondage, degradation, praise, oral (male receiving), a depraved game, butt and pussy slapping, unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, swearing.

Word count: 4,6k

A/n: @milla-frenchy and I wrote this fic as our contribution to Dead Dove December by @romana-after-dark. Romana, thank you for hosting this amazing event celebrating dark fic! @milla-frenchy I had so much fun writing with you! I love you, baby!❤️🫂Dividers by @saradika-graphics

If you’re sensitive to any of the warnings, do not read the fic! We don’t condone the actions of the characters. It is all fictional!

MILLA’S MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the sound of water filling the tub is calming and hypnotizing. You’re wearing nothing but a pink robe, soft and warm. You untie it and open it wide before your gaze travels down to your breasts. You cup them gently and rub the nipples with your thumbs. They perk up at the touch and you flutter your eyes shut as the waves of arousal are spreading through every nerve in your body. One hand leaves your breast and glides down to caress your tummy and then mound. You dip your finger in between your folds and swirl it around your slightly wet clit. When you open your eyes, the mirror reflects your blown pupils back to you. You contemplate getting your vibrator from the drawer and using it in the bath. Your husband is away on a business trip and he won’t be back for a few more days but the idea of waiting for him to satisfy your desire excites you so you take a deep breath trying to calm down.

You take the robe off and hang it next to the sinks. You turn around, come up to the already full tub and bend over to check the water temperature. This is when he grabs you.

The iron grip of his hand is holding your wrists behind your back. His bulge is pushing in between your naked asscheeks. He’s big and strong and you’re helpless against him. He’s keeping you bent over the full bath and then pushes your torso down. Your head is submerged in the tub and you scream and thresh about but your cries are completely silenced by the water suffocating you. Your attempts to break free are fruitless. His fist is clenching your hair and it burns like hell but the pain in your burning lungs overshadows everything else. You’re trying to free yourself from his hold, to kick him and push him away but his beastly strength doesn’t let you.

You’re about to black out when he lifts your head by your hair and your mouth finally takes a life-giving breath. You cough and cry trying to get as much oxygen as he lets you and exclaim, “No, no, stop it, please!”

He growls and pulls your torso up and flush against his chest. You’re covered in water droplets, already cold and shivering but for another reason. The stranger might kill you and the thought makes you tremble and beg for mercy,

“I’ll give you everything, I’ll do anything! Pls let me go..”

You’re crying and screaming but he’s deaf to your pleas. You feel his breath on your cheek and he bites it. He doesn’t break the skin but the pain makes you wail. The man shakes your body and laughs, “Silly girl, the louder you scream the harder it’ll make me.”

Your back is pressed to his broad chest and your whole body is shaking as if electricity is going through every part of you.

“I saw you touching yourself, little slut. Made me hard like a rock,” he bucks his hips into your ass and you feel his clothed hard-on. “I coulda just taken what I wanted and left. But now I think I’ll take this pussy too.” He slaps your mound a little harder than a lover would and a whine escapes your lips.

“Started without me?”

You feel even more terrified if it’s even possible when you hear another voice.

“Nah, just gave this pretty slut a wash. Don't wanna touch her husband's crusted cum on her. We gonna leave our own.”

“Right, brother.” They laugh and you feel you might be sick. It can’t be happening. The sobs are shaking your body as you’re trying to turn your head to the side so you could see the new man.

“Please, let me go,” you plead, hoping the other intruder will be kinder to you.

The first attacker yanks your whole body to the side, turning you away from the tub so you’d face the second man. Your tears make his image blurry, resembling a dark shadow. He’s wearing all black and his face is hidden behind a balaclava. He sounds younger than the other one and is not as huge but he’s still bigger than you. He comes up close, takes your wet cheeks between his gloved fingers and pushes making your lips pout. You mewl and they both laugh. His other hand darts to your mound and he grabs your pussy squeezing your flesh with his harsh fingers. You whine and he looks at the other attacker over your shoulder, “She’s so soft and pretty. Can’t wait to use her.”

His accomplice hums in agreement, pressing his covered chin to your cheek and rubbing your delicate skin with the material of his mask, “need her to open the safe first.”

The second man agrees and steps out of the way while you’re being pushed to the door and into the master bedroom. You walk clumsily but as soon as you reach the doorframe you push all your weight to the side making your capturer crash into the door. Startled for a moment he eases his grip on you and you launch forward. The wetness of your body helps you to slip out of his hands and you’re running out of the room and along the hall crying for help as loud as you can.

Thoughts rush through your head as you realize that you need to get out of the house. So you race to the stairs but as soon as you reach them a hand grips your hair and pulls you back. It hurts and you try to break free but the man overpowers you with ease, drops his weight on you and you both fall on the floor. He grumbles and you realize that it’s the second intruder. He grabs your hands and ties your wrists behind your back with a rope.

“Stop, please, no!” you cry out, feeling pain in your scalp and body but the ache is dull as all your senses are fully focused on survival.

“Slippery bitch!” the younger man spits out and having restrained your hands, sits up on the back of your thighs panting heavily. He slaps your naked asscheek and you sob, tears soaking the carpet.

You hear steps and the first man comes up to you from the side. “Nice try, little slut,” he mocks you, pushing your shoulder lightly with the tip of his black boot. He orders to take you back to the bedroom.

You’re sitting on the floor in front of the safe in your walk-in closet. The men are towering behind you not afraid of you running away as your hands are securely restrained and you look and feel exhausted from the nerves and your attempts to break free.

The bigger man crouches next to you and his gloved fingers grasp your hair. Like a puppeteer he turns your head to him and rumbles, “Password, sweetie.” You begin saying the numbers immediately not seeing the point in protecting your valuables while your life is at stake.

“Please, take everything, just let me go… please,” you beg with a shaking voice but a carnal grin flashes in the opening of his balaclava and panic grips your heart.

“Open your pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he coos at you with a fake care as the other man chuckles and you see him bringing a knife to your face. It looks like a switchblade. You start pleading and crying again, horrifying images flooding your mind. Not waiting for you to calm down, the intruder turns the knife handle up and inserts it into your mouth.

“Hold it,” he orders, “just imagine it’s your husband’s dick. Bite it real hard, I’m sure you’re mad at him for leaving you alone now.”

He pushes your head down to the safe and you bend over awkwardly trying not to fall, knife between your teeth.

You hear the other man’s voice, “Press the buttons for us, princess, come on,” his voice is soft but it makes your hair stand up.

You sob and the knife nearly falls out of your mouth but you clench your teeth around it more tightly and bring the blade to the buttons.

“That’s our girl,” the first man mumbles, as his hand in your hair keeps you from falling.

You push the numbers with the tip of the blade and hear beeps. “You have a nice ass, baby,” the second intruder comments, apparently ogling your butt while you are bending over. You hear a click of the safe door and they push you out of the way hurrying to get their hands on the things they came for. At least you hope they came just for that.

You look up at them, wondering what they're going to do to you. You still hope they will leave, now that you've opened the safe for them.

You try not to panic and focus on your breathing. You can see their dark eyes through the openings of their balaclavas. They look at each other communicating without a word, and then the bigger one turns to you.

“How much time do we have?” he asks his accomplice, his gaze locked with yours.

“Half an hour, easy,” the other man replies.

Your hairs stand up and your breath catches in your throat. You feel that your brain is trying to convince itself that they are not going to hurt you more. You don't dare imagine what they are capable of.

The younger one grabs you by both arms and forces you to get up.

“We have plenty of time to have a little fun,” he laughs, dragging you towards your bedroom. You try to resist, but in vain. He turns around and pushes you against the wall. His hand grips your throat and you watch him in fear as he removes his balaclava. He has brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, and a mustache. The fact that he is uncovering his face terrifies you. These men don't care if you can describe them, and you wonder if you will make it out alive.

He brings his face closer to yours, to the point where your noses could touch, and leans his pelvis against you. You feel his hard cock on your lower belly and the last hope your mind was trying to cling to is now gone. He tilts his head to the side and smiles, looking at you. You hear his brother laugh behind him and say “you’re a fuckin’ psycho, Tommy.” He takes off his balaclava as well, and his face appears behind his brother. He has short, brown hair, a light beard and a mustache. You try to memorize their faces, in case you can describe them to the police. Later.

That “later” fades away when Tommy moves closer to your cheek and slowly licks his way to your cheekbone. You start shaking like a leaf and he laughs, unties your hands behind your back, and grabs your arm before tugging you after him. He pushes you onto the bed, where you fall on your back.

You try to get up, but the other man pulls a gun out of the back of his jeans and points it at you,

“You’re starting to piss me off, sweetheart, so I’m gonna set things straight. We'll fuck you and then we’ll leave. If you struggle, you'll turn us on even more. If you scream, we'll fuck you harder. Do I make myself clear?”

His icy voice, his words stop you and you lie down again. He hands the gun to Tommy and says “I’m gonna need my hands.”

You widen your eyes when he unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock. Thick. Much too big.

“Oh, sweetie, judging by your reaction, your husband has a small dick,” he says, laughing again. His brother chuckles too and adds, “She’s so not ready for our cocks, Joel.” He grabs your legs and pulls them towards him to lay you down.

Joel approaches the bed, slowly jerking off, and kneels on the bed at your side, before bringing his cock closer to your face, “Now you’re gonna suck me off, sweetheart. And after any dumb move from you, my brother will blow your brains out, ok?”

You nod. Your only hope now is that they end this quickly. You try to put aside another source of anxiety that is gnawing at your heart - their uncovered faces.

Joel taps your face with his cock twice before you part your lips slightly, and he says "Sweetie, open wide, or it ain’t gonna fit". You hold back the tears that are stinging your eyes, and you open your mouth wider. He slides the tip into your mouth, and you round your lips around it. He doesn't wait any longer, and sinks into you, holding your head in his hands.

He stops halfway down his member, then pulls back, before thrusting in with one stroke, making you choke. You hear Tommy laugh and can no longer hold back your tears as panic overtakes you and amplifies your suffocation. “Stop it, Tommy, you’re scaring the little thing!” Joel says with a chuckle.

He pulls out of your mouth and releases your head, and you feel Tommy get between your thighs. You murmur, “No, please”, but Joel adds, “Come on, sweetheart, my little brother needs to get his dick wet, too, right?”

Tommy rubs his cock against your folds, then against your clit. His tip rubs it several times, and to your horror you feel your pussy getting wet.

“Little slut is so wet for our cocks, Joel, can you believe it?”

“They always are. All fuckin’ whores.”

Tommy pulls back a little and looks at his cock, before slowly pushing it into your pussy, and growls "Fuck...she's tight, man." You wince as you feel your folds parted.

“Point your gun at her. I’m gonna fuck her throat, I don’t want her to do anything stupid.”

Tommy cocks his gun at your head and starts fucking you, thrusting deeper. Joel grabs your temples with his hands again, and his erect cock sinks in your mouth. He grips your head tighter, and quickly fucks your mouth, grunting. Your saliva pools against his member, and he is thrusting deeper and deeper, at the same pace as his brother is fucking your pussy. His cock hits the back of your throat, and he suddenly pauses, holding your nose pressed against his pubes.

“Don’t move, sweetie.”

You try to calm down, your mind in shock at what’s happening to you. In your home, where you should be safe. He finally pulls away, before thrusting in again, yet not going all the way to your throat.

“You’re taking us good, baby”, Tommy says, leaning over you and pressing his nose to your neck, the gun against your temple.

Still fucking your mouth, Joel tells his brother,“Stretch her with the gun. The handle. Let’s see if her little pussy can take it. Afraid I’ll split her in two with my cock.”

You want to scream, your mouth full of Joel’s cock, but only a vague moan leaves your mouth.

“And I’m the psycho?” Tommy laughs, pulling out and sitting up.

Joel pulls out too, and moves away from you with his hard cock in his hand, watching Tommy position the handle of the gun at your entrance with one gloved hand, and pressing your stomach with the other to hold you against the bed. He pushes gently and you cry out, “No, please stop, it won’t fit!”

“We’ll make it fit. You’re wet enough to take it.”

He keeps pushing, and the tip of the handle sinks into you.

“Say ‘thank you’ to Tommy for stretching you, sweetheart.”

You feel like you're going to pass out. You look at their faces, their eyes fixed on your pussy dilated around the gun, and you try to relax. A part of you wants to rebel and fight, but the other one takes over, knowing that you have no way out of this.

“Look, Joel, she's dripping. Good that we’re using the handle, she woulda ruined the barrel with her wetness,” Tommy comments and they laugh again degrading you.

“Ok, pull it out. She’s ready. Gonna fuck her now”, Joel says and adds, “Get on all fours.”

You don't move, too scared at the idea of what happens next, and Tommy points the muzzle at your forehead. Your tears start to fall again and you finally turn around, exposing your ass to Joel and standing on your hands and knees on the bed.

“I forgot that you had such a nice ass, sweetie!”

“Please… don’t do that”, you whimper with sobs in your voice.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna damage your ass. Don’t have the time for that. There’s one more thing we’ll have to do, after we’re done with you.”

You don't have time to ask or even think what they want to do next, Tommy is already on the bed pressing his cock against your mouth. Joel grabs your hips with his hands, and thrusts into you in one swift move. You suffocate under the intrusion, and Tommy pushes his cock in between your lips.

“Come on, baby, be a good girl and let me fuck this wet hole of yours,” Joel mumbles opening your thighs wider and begins fucking you with quick thrusts. Then he slides his hand down to your clit and you try to shake your head, but Tommy holds you tight, his cock buried in your mouth.

Joel coos at you, “Come on, sweetheart, wanna feel your pussy squeeze my big cock.”

You try to resist, but his finger slides against your clit perfectly. You tell yourself that it will end faster if he gets what he wants and let your mind retreat, and the emotions in your body take over. You feel your orgasm building, and your pussy begins to contract.

“Tommy… little slut is clenching my dick so hard, and she hasn't come yet”, he groans with a smile.

Tommy pulls your hair with his hand, and pushes his cock into your mouth one more time, before pulling out, gloved fingers clasped around his shaft. You moan, and cum on Joel's cock while your eyes roll back and your legs are shaking. He’s groaning, feeling your spasms around his cock, “Fuckin’ hell, little slut must be so bored with her husband.”

Tommy’s carnal gaze is sliding down your body and he looks manic when he lifts his eyes at Joel and asks with a smile, “wanna play like that time?”

Joel looks back at him, pulls out of your crying pussy and chuckles, “you’re fucking crazy, brother.”

“Why?” Tommy mumbles running his gloved hand through your messy hair. He looks right into your eyes drinking your fear and his cock twitches.

“The last one wanted it. This one looks too gentle.”

Tommy leans over you bringing his face so close you smell cigarettes on his breath and tells Joel,

“She might surprise us, brother. I’m sure she’s freaky. Aren’t you, princess?”

He grabs your pussy and you gasp. Your gaze darts to Joel who watches his brother’s fingers massage your wet folds and begins stroking his cock,

“Fuck, yeah, let’s do it. If she chokes my cock till I come… might spare her.”

You hear his words and sobs are about to break out of your chest but Tommy senses it and places his free hand over your mouth, “we’ll play one game, princess and then we’ll leave, deal?”

He’s waiting for the answer but you can’t agree without knowing what this psycho means so you just stare at him with fearful eyes.

He straightens up glancing at his brother, “Fuck, I forgot I don’t have to ask cos I have this,” he takes out a gun from his waistband and waves it at you.

“On your mark, brother,” he says to Joel and the bigger man grabs your legs and pulls you roughly on the bed towards him. His cock pushes between your folds and you moan.

“See! The whore loves it!” Tommy points at your with his gun, triumphant smile on his face and you feel a tip of a cock thrust into you. Joel’s huge member parts your folds again and you plead for him to stop but he doesn’t hold back as its head jams right into your cervix after a couple of deep and hard thrusts.

“Hey, hey, Joel. You’ll come too soon! Where’s fun in that?”

Joel pauses his movements deep inside you and you look at the men with confusion and fear twisting your face. What game are they going to play with you? And are you going to survive it?”

“Ready?” Tommy asks and you catch your breath waiting for the worst. Then Tommy leans down a little and slaps your pussy with his leathered palm, just a few inches from the place where his brother’s cock is buried deep inside you. You cry out when the pain catches you off guard and to your horror realize that it’s quickly mixing with pressure. Joel grunts shutting his eyes for a second and then opens them to glance at his brother, “Fuck, you were right. She’s squeezing me real good. Fucking chocking my cock, little slut.”

You sense your walls contract around his girthy length and you hate yourself for it. “That’s just one”, Tommy warns as he lands another blow to your tortured pussy. “Two,” he counts and you mewl, your eyes rolling back while Joel’s groaning through his teeth and plants his hands on the bed at your sides.

“What is it, brother? She’s so pretty and sweet that you’re about to come already?” Tommy mocks the man and Joel looks up at him with a pained and angry expression.

Tommy backs off with his hands in the air still chuckling and then comes back to slap your clit again.

As soon as he says, “Three” you feel warmth filling your pussy up as Joel is coming with a long growl grasping your hips leaving white marks on your soft skin. He starts thrusting into your core again pumping you full of his spend and you feel sick when your core is tightening. You won’t come. You won’t give it to him.

“Holy fuck, princess, you have a magic pussy. To make my bro bust a nut just after three slaps!” He laughs and takes your head in his hands kissing your mouth. First as a joke he pecks your lips but after parting from you for a second he comes back for more as his tongue pushes between your lips. You freeze when he’s stealing another part of you, licking into your mouth while his brother prolongs his climax with short thrusts into your swollen pussy.

Finally Tommy parts from you and straightens up grabbing his cock. “Fuck, Joel, my turn. This bitch is so hot.” He looks into your eyes while Joel pulls out his semi hard cock, and you feel his cum leaking out of your stretched hole and slide down to your asshole.

The men switch positions and now Joel is standing over you while Tommy gets on the bed between your shaking legs. He sits on his heels staring at your hole and says in a calm but stern voice, “Squeeze it out, princess.” It’s so sick that you’re blinking at him until suddenly he directs his gun at you and repeats his command a little louder, “I said squeeze out the cum, little slut!”

You swallow loudly and tighten your muscles. With a satisfied grin he’s watching a string of milky liquid flow out of your hole.

“We need to hurry up,” Joel rumbles, zipping up his pants.

“Yeah, yeah…” Tommy replies, seemingly deaf to his brother’s words, his gaze fully focused on your pussy.

Still having his gloves on he brings his hand to your folds and pushes two fingers into your hole. Then he takes them out and climbs over your body. Without a word be pushes the leathered digits between your lips,with an order, “Clean them up, princess.” You do as you’re told, tasting Joel’s bitter cum and leather on your tongue.

“Good slut,” Tommy half praises half degrades you watching your tongue swirl around his covered digits.

“Fuck, Tommy, come on!” Joel hurries up his brother and the younger man finally listens, gets between your thighs and pushes his cock in with a growl. He slides in easily, your pussy wet with Joel’s cum and stretched out well.

“Come on, baby, let’s win this thing,” he says and you mewl, knowing what’s coming next.

Joel’s hand hits your pussy harsher than Tommy’s and you jolt from the pain. The younger man is hissing through his teeth looking at your swollen reddish folds. He shivers and grips your hips tighter. “Fuck you’re choking my cock, baby!”

Joel doesn’t wait long to stroke you again and a tear slides down the side of your face. Tommy shuts his eyes tilting his head back and as another slap lands on your poor clit you moan and squeeze Tommy’s cock so well it pushes him over. His balls tighten and he shoots his cum deep inside your core. His seed mixes with Joel’s and it’s too much cum for your poor pussy so it leaks out of you in globs pushed out by Tommy’s cock still moving inside you. When he stills panting heavily, he pulls out and announces, “Three-three, bro! Guess we’re both suckers for her pussy”. He tucks his cock away hastily and when he’s ready he leans over your swollen mound and gives it a peck, whispering, “killer-pussy!”

Joel is already gathering the things they’re taking with them and you’re lying not moving a muscle wishing for them to forget about you and leave. But soon Joel comes up to the bed and you see a phone in his hand. He reaches to your face and you flinch, “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s gonna be over soon. Just wanna take a few photos, for the memories,” he mocks you with a smirk trying to fix your messy hair and wiping your face with his sleeve.

“Give me, I’ll do it,” Tommy appears from behind Joel taking the phone from his brother. He directs the camera at your face and commands, “Smile, princess, show us how happy you’re that we’re leaving.”

You smile weakly and he takes a few photos of you splayed on the bed, marks covering your skin. He makes you open your legs and takes a photo of your pussy leaking out their spend on your marital bed. Then he’s checking the photos and mumbles talking to you ,

“You’re a great fuck, princess. Can’t believe your asshole of a husband gets to have you whenever he wants…he’ll have a hard time filling your pussy after we stretched you that good,” he laughs and adds, “we might come back for more one day.” He says it in a seemingly benign manner looking into your eyes but you see a threat rooted in his words. “Keep your little mouth shut and forget our faces or these pictures of you will be everywhere. Surely your hubby will have to say bye-bye to his political career. You got me?” His gaze is serious and intent and you nod hastily.

Your heart is beating fast when you see Tommy take black bags from Joel. Will they keep their promise and leave you alive?

“Take care, princess,” you hear Tommy’s voice as he puts his balaclava back on and walks out of the door. Joel doesn’t say anything. With his face already covered he heads to the door, stops right outside and turns his head to you. He brings his gloved finger to his lips in a silent sign, and then leaves as quietly as he came.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!❤️

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