#tw power imbalance

[faetreides]

summary: paul atreides x plus sized afab servant!reader

cw: power imbalance, somnophilia (dubcon in my mind as the reader wouldn’t push him away if they woke up but feel free to skip this if you could feel icked out by it), petplay (cheated again and didn’t make it explicit but it’s very petplay coded in a way), size difference (paul’s the skinny bf that would fall over if a gust of wind was strong enough), paul eats reader out, crack treated seriously vibes bc he’s so awkward 💀, ambiguous somno occasion (like how the reader fell asleep), implications of improper use of the voice but it’s weak for this paul era so reader could probably push against it, possible dune lore inaccuracies idk don’t think just vibe

wc: 1k +

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

don’t repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

You’re having the same dream again. Paul Atreides, the duke’s son who you are tasked with looking after is the star.

He looms over you as you lie flat on your back, though in your dream you’re never in your servant’s quarters. No, the surrounding walls bear a more striking resemblance to Paul’s bedroom. You’re always groggy in the dream, which is a strange feeling to have when you usually are profoundly awake in your other dreams.

You’ve only been having this one since you arrived on Caladan from a smaller planet with no name that they took ownership of. Paul Atreides had seemed to seek you out like a moth to a flame, making a beeline for you and demanding in front of your mother that his father hire you. Even weirder was the fact that the ships belonging to the Atreides left immediately after you agreed to go with them, as if the trip had only one purpose.

“Shh, mouse, it’s just me. Don’t wake up.” He whispers, nuzzling his nose against yours and pecking your lips.

You lie there in a daze, eyes wide and mouth agape as Paul reaches for the fastenings of your top. It’s an orange silk number he gifted you, all your clothes are. Your breaths come out in shallow pants, the disbelief that Paul Atreides would be disrobing you with the intent to bed you is overwhelming. He gives your plush curves loving squeezes as he reveals more and more skin.

Eventually you’re stark naked under him. You sluggishly try to cover yourself with your hands but Paul swiftly knocks them aside, pinning them to your sides so he can drink in the mouth watering image. You have no idea how many dreams he has had of you, ones concerning moments like these and ones about the life you’ll experience together in between. A gaggle of tiny feet playing tag around his throne, domestic mornings of blissful silence waltzing in the dining room.

“I…. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you, i swear it.” Your heart skips a beat, despite knowing very well that this is all some passing fancy. Dreams never have to see the light of day, so you can luxuriate in your delusions.

Paul leans down to shakily mouth at your collarbone, scraping his teeth against the skin and playing with your love handles. You whimper as he litters your rough skin with love bites, you open your mouth to apologize that it’s not as smooth as a noble consort’s would be, but something in the way he shoves his tongue in your mouth to silence you tells you he somehow already knows.

You poke and pull at his dark shirt, the fine black material feeling like heaven but you’d rather it cover your garments next to the bed.

Paul chuckles, nipping at your lips and pulling back to shirk his clothing off. He throws it across the room and goes back to kissing his way down your thick body. Once he reaches your stomach, he takes extra special care to dote on the rolls of skin, softly kissing and pressing his forehead against them.

“You would be a beautiful bride, you know…”

“Um… thank you, sir.” You squirm, all the attention on someone like you from someone like your employer’s son becoming too real. The Paul Atreides would sooner be lost to the sands of Arrakis than utter those words to you in the waking world, but perhaps your long harbored infatuation has leaked into your subconscious.

He smiles, as if charmed by your shyness. “You’re welcome, mouse.”

His favorite nickname for you, given to you due to your adorable scurrying around to avoid others and shy high pitched squeaks that you use instead of words. (Also because he saw you crouch in a corner and nibble on a piece of bread that you had managed to snag from the table.)

He sits back on his heels to grab your thighs, the skin bulging in between his fingers. He draws you into a slow and sensual kiss as he pushes them apart and sinks into the empty space. You squeak in shock when you feel something stiff press against your wet pussy, but Paul only shushes you in your head and you relax again.

“Mmm~” He hums, flicking his tongue against the seam of your lips and lifting himself to hover over you once more.

He winks before tightening his grip on your thighs and stretching them wide enough for him to slink down and have access to the small hole at their apex.

You jolt when he presses a soft kiss to the top of your mound. You squeak and try to close your thighs around his head but he doesn’t let you, keeping your thighs pinned to the bed and licking a flat stripe up your pussy.

“So sweet, mouse….” Paul grins and repeats the motion a few times. “I could just spread you out over the table whenever I need to eat.”

You moan at the attention, desperately wishing that you could grind against Paul’s mouth but it feels like something more than his grip is holding you back, something about the touch seeming too vivid. You shake the thought away and sink your fingers into his hair, brushing any strays away from his face as he moves to suck on your clit.

He hollows out his cheeks a bit to get better suction on your fat clit. Paul nuzzles his face as deep into you as he can possibly get, the chubby lips of your pussy sandwiching his nose. You wrench your eyes shut as your pleasure builds and builds, but a single thin finger eases into your hole right as you’re about to tumble over the edge. The intrusion isn’t painful so much as it is entirely foreign to you, the second finger goes in much easier.

The combination of eating you out and finger fucking you makes the knot in you stomach blessedly come undone. Paul swallows it all down like there’s no better substance in the grand scheme of the universe.

You hope to have this dream again tomorrow, even at the cost of being able to look Paul Atreides in the eyes.

#kinktober #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atredies x reader #paul atredies smut #dune #dune x reader #dune x you #paul atreides x you #paul x reader #paul x you #paul atriedes #⚰️.deaddove #tw somno #tw power imbalance #yandere themes #male yandere smut #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #dune smut #yandere x you #soft yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #dark fic

[digital-domain]

Spring Cleaning

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.2k

In which Alastor goes through your closet, and offers a tasteful replacement for the unsavory things he’s destroyed

Tags/warnings: yandere, invasion of privacy, Alastor’s outfit-changing magic fuckery, mention of lingerie, slight suggestiveness

A/N: I’d like to thank Goodwill for providing the clothing item that inspired this fic

There’s someone in your room, and you know exactly who it is, because - well, it’s not like it’s a rare occurrence. It doesn’t happen every time, but often enough that you’ve gotten used to seeing Alastor when you open the door, pacing along your bedroom floor, casually perusing your belongings, or sitting at your desk chair like he’s been waiting for you all day. It’s been happening for so long, now, that you don’t remember exactly when it started. And you certainly don’t know why. You tried asking, once or twice, but you learned quickly that he has a shocking ability to dance around questions that he doesn’t want to answer. All you really know is that he’s taken an interest in you, and that it’s not likely to disappear anytime soon.

Some specific visits do stick out in your memory. On one particularly horrendous occasion, he’d stood directly beside the door when you’d swung it open, hiding himself from view, only for his presence to be revealed when you’d turned to shut it behind you. His head had been tilted to a truly bizarre angle, but he’d straightened himself out while you were still reeling from the shock.

No need to be frightened, my dear. Just a bit of fun…

You got the feeling that the look on your face was exactly the entertainment he was looking for. 

Today isn’t like that, thankfully. It’s usually not. You get the impression that he doesn’t want to scare you away (as if you could run away, even if you wanted to), and that that particular visit was a rare sort of indulgence. Your door is already cracked open, and you hear him long before you see him. He’s humming something, but like most of the songs he treasures, it’s far too old for you to recognize.

Not as if he accepts that as an excuse. You’ve started learning some of the titles, just to appease him. And the lyrics. And reading the books that he’s given you, and listening to his odd bits of old-fashioned advice, and accepting his various other gifts. The whiskey was nice, although of course he insisted upon drinking with you, and cut you off at one glass. Apparently, it would have been improper to indulge any further in mixed company. The coffee was better - at least he let you drink that by yourself.

When you swing the door open, he’s half-turned away from you, and doesn’t so much as look in your direction. But what you can see of his broadening smile makes it clear that he’s heard you enter. “Hello, my dear,” he murmurs. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

This is another thing you’ve gotten used to: being made to feel like you’re the guest, in your own bedroom. It drives you insane, but of course, you’ve never addressed it. And you’ve certainly never tried to drive him out before he was ready to leave. This little arrangement you have - truly, you’re not sure what to call it - can be unpleasant, at times, but it’s not unbearable. He never comes late at night, and never shows up when you have company (although how he always seems to know whether you have company, you’re not sure). He doesn’t seem to want anything more than your attention. 

It’s acceptable. Tolerable. And if you ever push back, you’re not sure what will happen, so you think it’s better to just leave things as they are. To let him come and go through your life as he pleases.

You’re coming closer than ever to saying something now, though, because this time he’s not just sitting at your desk, or standing idly somewhere in your room. He’s got your closet door open - and he’s rifling through the contents. Clearly, he’s been doing this for some time, because a large portion of your clothes are already lying in a heap on the floor behind him. As you watch, he tears another shirt off its hanger. A black camisole that you’d bought because it reminded you of something you’d worn often in life. A “going out top,” as your old friends had called it. He looks down with something like disgust, and drops it over his shoulder, where it flutters to the top of the pile.

“ Alastor…” You try to keep your tone even. Merely curious, instead of indignant. “What are you doing?” A bit of your anger slips through. It would be stupid to even hope that he didn’t notice.

“No need to be so hostile.” He slips another shirt from your closet and holds it up with both hands. “I’m doing you a favor.” He tugs on the sloped neckline of the delicate blouse in his hands, and a rip appears down the middle. “My mistake, dear.” 

Arguing, you think, would be a bad idea. But you really do need him to stop. “I liked that one.”

“ Hmm…well! I didn’t. I’m afraid it was a bit modern for my tastes.” He shakes his head, and turns around, dropping the shirt into the mess of other garments on the floor. He’s made it through a good chunk of your wardrobe - several pairs of pants and jeans, as well as a few accessories you’d grown fond of, are visible within the heap. “I mean no offense, of course. I only wish to help.”

You certainly do take offense, but there’s no point in addressing that directly. “They’re my clothes,” you say instead, very aware that you sound like an idiot. 

“Not anymore.” With a flourish of his hand, the pile disappears, leaving the floor bare. As well as your closet…as you carefully approach, you see that there’s almost nothing left inside. “You’ll thank me before long.”

It’s getting very hard to contain yourself now. “I bought those.”

“And I will be happy to provide some more… suitable replacements.” His image flickers in front of you - a moment later, he reappears by your side. It’s not the first time this has happened, either, but it makes you shudder every time. “To be entirely honest…” An odd twist of his neck brings his face directly in front of yours, nose nearly brushing your own. “I should have done this long ago.” He takes you by the shoulder, and guides you across the room to your dresser. “I’m nearly done already. Only a few drawers left to go.”

You stare up at him, hardening your gaze. Doing your best to sound confident, and not terrified of speaking up. “I want them back.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option. What’s done is done.” He turns, and reaches for the handle of a drawer. The small one, in the top corner.

Oh. Your stomach knots as you realize which drawer, exactly, he’s about to open. You can’t, under any circumstances, let him see what’s in there. But your protest is so frantic that it’s barely comprehensible. “That one - don’t… ”

He laughs shortly, as if you’ve said something only mildly amusing. “You’re getting hostile again, my dear. You know I don’t appreciate that.”

In a panic, you blurt out the question that rises to the top of your head. It will distract him for a moment, if nothing else. “Why are you doing this?”

You realize immediately that this was a mistake. Questioning him is always a mistake.

But then again - you would like to know.

He pauses, the corner of his grin twitching upward. Eyes narrowing as his head swivels in your direction. “I’ve taken a liking to you, my dear.” He certainly doesn’t sound as if he likes you at the moment. His voice drips with condescension. “So when you do things, or have things, that I don’t like, I find it rather jarring.” He takes a deep breath. After he exhales, his eyes flash, and he continues in his usual lighthearted tone. “Taking those things away is quite a comfort to me.” 

His smile seems a touch more genuine now. Somehow, that makes it more unsettling. So much so that you freeze up for just a second too long. 

“Back to business, then.” He lashes out a hand, and yanks the drawer open. 

As soon as he peers inside, he goes rigid. You stiffen, as well, but certainly not for the same reason. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the sharp static suddenly buzzing in your ears. “I told you…”

“No, you didn’t .” He dips a single finger into the drawer, and pulls out the garment on top by its strap, dangling it in midair and examining it. It’s black, like the shirt you’d walked in on him tossing earlier - but it’s certainly not designed for going out. Or for anywhere besides your bedroom. He stares at it for some time, until his silence becomes too much to bear. 

“You shouldn’t have”-

“My dear.” He laughs softly, more to himself than to you. “I’d really prefer you not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, so fake that it’s painful to your ears, its conceit betrayed by the telltale twitch in his eye. “Now. Do tell me. What could have possessed you, to spend your hard-earned money on something like this ?” He tilts his head, and stares, clearly waiting for a response.

This question has no good answer, but some are worse than others, so you choose your words carefully. “It…I like how it looks?”

“Hm.” If he wasn’t grinning, as always, you’re sure he’d be grimacing instead. “I can’t say I understand.” He sets it down in the drawer for a moment, and carefully tugs off his glove. “Nor do I wish to.”

You watch in a mixture of mortification and horror as he takes hold of your lingerie once again, and snags his nails across the fabric, easily rending it to pieces. He drops the torn fabric carelessly to the floor, kicks it under your dresser, and pointedly wipes his hand on his sleeve before replacing his glove.

“Ah, well. No need to say anything more about it now.” His eyes trail to the remaining contents of the drawer. “I do hope that you’re not quite as fond of the rest.” He drops his hand over the pile, and a moment later, a soft green flame envelops it. For a moment, you panic, sure that your entire dresser is about to burn, but the flame disappears with the last of your lingerie, leaving not so much as a pile of ashes behind. 

You peer into the empty drawer, mouth ajar. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.” You’re probably getting into risky territory, but this mixture of embarrassment and irritation is becoming too much to bear. 

“Hm?” His eyes are gleaming. There’s something dangerous there, you think, something that you have to tread carefully around. “You didn’t get so worked up over the rest of your closet. Is this different to you?”

“You said you’d replace the rest,” you mutter, judging it to be the safest possible answer. The least likely to cause further embarrassment. “I doubt you’re going to make the same offer with…those.”

“Oh? Who says?” His eyes gleam, in that way they do when he gets an idea that no one around him is going to enjoy. “I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on it…but those things clearly meant a lot to you. And I enjoy your company far too much to let something so small come between us.”

You think that you’d certainly like something to come between you and him. A wall, perhaps. Or a large metal gate. 

“So! If it’s a replacement you want, a replacement you shall have.” He sharply closes the drawer, and kicks at a strip of shredded black fabric that still protrudes from beneath your dresser. “It should be something that can be worn in bed, I suppose. But I prefer to interpret that in a more traditional sense. Something to be worn to sleep.” His head tilts dramatically, and somewhere far above your head, you think you hear a few notes of a slow, lilting song, piped in from many decades ago. “And I believe I have just the thing.” That intractable smile pulls back, just a fraction. “Let’s see what it looks like on you, shall we?”

You open your mouth to protest. But of course, you don’t manage to get a word out before he flicks his hand in your direction. 

When you look down, your previous outfit is gone. And in its place…well. Like Alastor said, there’s nothing lurid about it. It’s a slip of sorts, made of thin, silky off-white fabric that falls almost to your knees. Delicate enough that you wouldn’t wear it outside, but modest enough that you don’t feel entirely exposed. It’s something to be worn to bed, indeed. But not by you. There’s nothing you about it. The fabric itself appears brand new, but like all the things Alastor seems to appreciate most, the design clearly comes from long before your time.

You find, suddenly, that you don’t know how to hold yourself. How to act. Your arms hang awkwardly at your sides, feeling heavy as your fingertips skim the silk that surround your thighs.

You realize, after the moment of disorientation had passed, that Alastor is not acting like himself, either. He’s quiet. You were expecting mockery, some ridiculous comment that would make you melt into the ground - but it appears that the results of your transformation have caught him off guard.

There’s a creak on the floorboards to your right. A faint sigh. “I must say, my dear…” Alastor’s voice is softer than you expected, and almost devoid of the static filter that usually coats his words. “It suits you better than I could have imagined.”

You think that you’d prefer taunting to whatever this is. 

“I’d go so far as to say you look quite lovely.”

You keep your eyes downcast, not wanting to see his face just yet, and examine the finer details of the garment he’s cast upon you. It has narrow straps, and lace at the neckline, which is high enough to give nothing away. The hem is also lacy, and the cut is straight, not so much defining your curves as endeavoring to erase them as much as possible. Objectively speaking, it is quite pretty. But you’re left with the impression that you’ve strode into someone else’s closet, and departed wearing their clothes. 

“Don’t you agree?”

Slowly, hesitantly, you look up. Alastor’s eyes are fixed on you, shining a brighter red than you’ve ever seen. There’s nothing vulgar about the way he’s staring - but he’s not merely amused, either. Instead, he’s looking at you with rapt fascination, in much the way that one would contemplate a particularly exquisite piece of art in a gallery. 

“I’m…not sure.” You instinctively cross your arms, almost wishing that you saw a more crude impulse behind his eyes. That, at least, would be easier to understand. Instead, it’s something like appreciation - or pride. More of the latter. If you were merely a piece of art, you’d imagine that this would be how your creator would look at you, upon seeing you on display for the first time. 

“No need to hide.” He reaches forward, and touches you lightly on the wrist. It’s enough to send both of your arms falling to your sides. “You couldn’t even if you tried.” 

His smile, again, seems entirely too real. There’s nothing threatening about his tone. It’s even, charming. And yet…

He slips behind you, and his hand moves to your waist - a test, you think, to see if you’ll slap it away. “But I don’t think you’re planning on trying, are you?”

“No.” You’re surprised by how quickly the word comes out of your mouth, how breathless. It was an odd question, one that hinted at more than the subject in front of it, and seemed to demand an answer. 

His other hand joins the first on your waist, and he turns you around, so quickly that you almost stumble, his palms dancing lightly over your barely covered skin. When you’re facing him, one hand slides up, curling around your jaw and holding tight, keeping your gaze turned up towards his face. And it is a long way up - it’s almost embarrassing how small you are compared to him. He stares down, staying silent for much longer than you’re used to, his breathing just a touch heavier than usual. 

His fingers tighten over the silk at your waist, pressing into your skin, a small twitch of his hand pulling the fabric very slightly upwards. It barely moves the hem at all - less than an inch - but somehow leaves you feeling infinitely more exposed. You almost flinch away, but after just a moment, he lets go, all at once. In fact, he practically jerks his hands back, as if he’s only just become aware of what he’s doing, and doesn’t approve. His smile, all of a sudden, appears incredibly fragile. 

“Oh…” He laughs softly - it feels forced. “Forgive me, darling. I truly don’t know what came over me.”

You’re not quite sure, either. And as usual, you neither expect nor want an answer.

He steps to your side, leans slightly over you, both hands clasped behind his back. With what seems like some effort, he forces the usual lighthearted tone back into his voice. “You do want to keep it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You’d prefer not to, you think, if this is the sort of reaction it draws out of him. But you can’t very well get rid of it, if he doesn’t want you to. And, you reassure yourself, just because you have it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.

“Good.” Again, overhead - but not so far overhead as last time - that lilting old melody falls into your ears. You have the odd impulse to cover them, but you force yourself to keep your hands at your sides. “It is getting late…I think you might as well keep it on, and get yourself all ready for bed.”

You’d like to push back. But all you can manage is a mute nod.

“Lovely.” He starts to raise his hand, as if to reach out and touch you again, but seems to think better of it. The hand falls, and disappears behind his back once more. “Sleep well, my dear.” Quickly, he turns on his heel, only calling out one final line before slipping out through your door. “You’ll see me again soon.”

You have no doubt that you will.

Alone in your room, you slowly approach the mirror that stands in the corner. Your reflection does not change your initial impression. You don’t look like yourself. You don’t like it. And it’s not like he’ll know if you take it off, change into something more comfortable…

Your eyes fall upon your nearly empty closet, and you remember that you don’t have anything more comfortable. Not anymore.

This is alright, you try to tell yourself. It’s just a piece of clothing.

Just a piece of clothing that you can’t imagine wearing for any other reason, or for anyone else. 

Your eyes fall upon the empty drawer in the top corner of your dresser, and trail over to your bed. Quickly, you drop your gaze to the floor. You realize, with a sigh, that it will be a long time before you have any company besides him in this room. In fact, it’s possible that you’ll never open your door for anyone again.

At the moment, doing so would feel far too much like allowing a guest into someone else’s home. 

#alastor x reader #yandere alastor #tw yandere #tw power imbalance

[riizeblr]

Am I the only one who’s feeling Eunseok more these days? Just thinking about doctor eunseok taking extra care of you. All the extra patting down is just a part of the procedure. Ofcourse you need to come regularly for check ups

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: dubcon, power imbalance, age gap, doctor!eunseok x innocent!reader

eunseok had never seen you in your own. you always trailed closely behind an old friend or your mother. they spoke for you, relaying updates to eunseok as his eyes stayed fixed on your frame. you were all hunched shoulders, shifty eyes and bitten lips, fiddling fingers and swinging feet. he tried to address you directly but you rarely responded, offering him little more than a shrug, a shake of your head, or a nod.

but today you wandered in alone, looking lost and worried. your nerves were clear in every movement as you anxiously checked in with eunseok’s assistant. he guided you in himself, dismissing his aid to an early, well-earned break to avoid a look of suspicion.

“all alone today?” eunseok questioned as you settled onto the examination table a few feet away from eunseok’s powering up computer.

you hummed shortly, straightening your back as eunseok inched closer, removing his stethoscope from his neck. “I have to come on my own now.”

“about time,” eunseok smiled when you stiffened, a sheepish expression on your face. “I’ve been waiting to do a thorough check up.”

“thorough?”

“yes,” eunseok signed into computer, inserting your vitals. “you’re grown,” faced you again, “have to make sure you’re staying safe and healthy.”

“up,” he ordered, sliding his chair towards you. you stood awkwardly, looking down at him with confusion in your eyes. “lift your skirt for me.” you slowly did as he ordered, jolting when he cupped your cunt.

“a little sensitive, hm?” eunseok’s finger flicked lightly at the front of your panties.

you tightened your hold on your skirt, “is that bad?”

eunseok sighed, “not necessarily.” he moved his grip to your hip, “but it’s a bit uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

“sometimes,” you admitted.

“do you touch yourself?”

your face paled and you dropped your skirt. eunseok kissed his teeth, lifting the hem of your skirt, “up.”

you hesitantly grabbed it, raising it. eunseok slid his finger towards your front, his cock filling with blood at the sight of a wet patch seeping into the baby pink fabric. “I asked you a question. I have to know these things, angel. aren’t you a big girl now?”

you swallowed, trapping his fingertips when you pressed your thighs together. “n-no. feels weird. like,” you looked away, “like i have to pee.”

“does it feel good?”

you looked at him, unsure. “I don’t know.”

eunseok rubbed your clothed cunt gently, eyes fixed on the way you tilt your head back, glossy bottom lip tucked between your teeth, and a tight hold on your skirt as you attempt to stay still and quiet. “you need to start taking care of yourself,” he whispered. “you need to start touching this sweet little cunt just like this. feeling like you have to pee is normal, means you’re doing something right. you just have to keep going.”

you nodded, breath skipping. “okay,” the word came out higher than usual, unsteady. “I can try.”

“you’re going to have to do more than try, angel.” he pushed against your hole, the cotton pushing past your lips, you jumped, “see how sensitive you are?”

you whimpered, trying to pull away but eunseok held the back of your thigh, “I feel it again.”

“let go for me, baby,” eunseok picked up his pace as he circled your swollen clit again. you blinked, eyes dampening, a slightly shaking your head. eunseok applied more pressure, enough to snap the coil in your tummy.

you spasmed as you came, shaking as your knees almost gave in. your eyebrows cinched, your mouth parting as pretty whimpers and whines bubbled from your throat. eunseok rubbed you through it, using his free hand to steady you. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, entranced by the sight of you falling apart.

“so sensitive,” he mumbled.

“did that feel good?” he asked.

your eyes were wet when you opened them, your lips quivering, “a little.”

“only a little? hm, you’re gonna have to come back soon then.” eunseok murmured, trailing a thin finger along your jaw. “you know I just want the best for you.”

#tw dubcon #tw power imbalance #tw age gap #discography ! #feat. eunseok ! #doctor!eunseok #eunseok x reader #eunseok smut #riize x reader #riize smut #riize hard hours #dark riize #dark eunseok #eunseok #riize

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Head Canon:

Mine Mine Mine

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Childhood Fem Reader

TW: Jealousy, murder (mention), delusional behavior, power imbalance, yandere behavior, etc.

Aged Up Character. They’re in their mid 20s

Hanayama could remember the day two of you first met. It was in the springtime after his mother had passed away, a difficult time for him that made him nearly empty inside. A time where you, a foreigner, had extended your hand to him with a smile. A small gesture of kindness that scorched itself into his memory for all eternity. This insignificant moment to you, was the start of your love story with him. A foreign exchange student turned violinist and the future leader of the Hanayama group.

Your friendship was originally onesided but Hanayama began to open up to you when he noticed how you didn’t have ulterior motives. You were incredibly naive and kind to a fault. You fascinated him with how oblivious to the world you were. You were innocent like a lamb.

In the early months of your friendship with him, you often brought him homemade lunches with the recent math homework notes (since he struggled with math). You’d often chatter beside him as he silently sat beside you. Hanayana was at first confused by your mannerisms but the more he watched you, the more he understood.

You were the sun while he was the moon. You were a bright warm light that made everything burst to life with a glance while others didn’t often seek out his. Yet you selflessly shared your light with him which made him slowly open up to you. You never excluded him from any of the invitations you’d give to together classmates, which often ended up causing just you and Hanayama to hang out alone.

Hanayama wasn’t sure when his crush on you grew into something more, but he knew he loved you. Hanayama Kaoru loved you so much that he was obsessed with you. He’d get in the way of any potential romance you could have with anyone because in his mind, you belonged to him.

The two of you were a couple. You two went on dates (his classmates didn’t want to be involved with a yakuza)! You’d play your violin for him while he’d watch you like a hawk with the smallest hint to a smile on his scarred lips. That was just the way your relationship was… Hanayama was your protective shadow while you were his shining star.

As the two of you grew older and he became busier once he became head of the family and you grew traction as a violinist, the two of you drifted apart a bit. A fact Hanayama hated. He hated the paperwork and constant ‘business meetings’ he had to go to. It was frustrating that he wasn’t able to be around you. You’re his beloved partner, his future wife.

So Hanayana turned to Kizaki for advice on how to make up for his absence. His right hand man happily suggested gift giving to make up for his lack of a physical presence in your life. And Hanayama nodded his head. You had often said you enjoyed flowers… how about a bouquet of roses?

It started with one bouquet of ruby red roses and that was the start of his swarm of gifts. Hanayama felt his breath hitch at the bright smile on your face at receiving the roses. How your eyes crinkled with delight as you thanked him for the gift. He didn’t know you’d be so thrilled to receive such a small bouquet of roses… would you want more than those ones?

The bouquets become bigger each week. Redder, fuller, and more fragrant. But soon that wasn’t enough for him to see your smiles over flowers. No. Hanayama should buy you jewelry. Necklaces and bracelets from famous jewelers all across the world for his beautiful violinist!

Yet you’d always smile at him and tell him his company was enough. Hanayama couldn’t believe how sweet you were… it only made him want to spoil you more.

Whenever he’d have free time, he’d sneak off to see your orchestra shows. He was your number one fan, the first one you ever had… Hanayama enjoyed seeing how you’d light up the room in awe at your musical talent… until he noticed how chummy one of the bassist in the orchestra started to become with you. You weren’t cheating on Hanayama were you? He really didn’t want get his hands dirty…

You’d always run to his side whenever your shows ended as you thanked him for coming. Your cute smile and flushed cheeks always made his heart flutter… until the face of that bassist snuck into his mind. Should he ask you about that guy? No… you were his.

Hanayama started to grow busier once more but his paranoia about the other man didn’t lessen. No, it intensified due to his absence in your life. Hanayama felt physically ill at the idea of you being with anyone other than him. You were his love. His light. If someone tried to take you away, he’d lose his mind.

So he began to send a few of his men to watch over you… for his own peace of mind (to stalk you). It was just to ease the jealousy that seeped into his heart. That’s all… until they reported how the bassist often seemed to make you uncomfortable. Turns out he was the son of the composer so he often got away with harassing you… and that wasn’t going to fly with Hanayama. No one messed with Hanayama’s woman and got away with it.

It wasn’t hard to capture that man and give him a slow, agonizing death for making you cry, but his involvement made life more difficult for you. He noticed how your solos lessened in the orchestra despite how you were significantly more talented than the other musicians. He hadn’t realized the disappearance of the son would be blamed on you… Hanayama hadn’t meant to make your life harder!

And that’s when an epiphany hit him. Why don’t you just marry him now? You’d live a comfortable and safe life where you could play your violin as much as you wanted! Wouldn’t that be lovely?

Hanayama planned out the perfect proposal for you! One where he had even picked out a dress for you and booked out a restaurant… But when the day came around for him to fetch you, he was shocked that you were a bit frightened by this loud action of love. Did you not like this establishment? Or the clothes? Hanayama could always get you something different!

You shake your head and reassure him, but he still is upset by your lack of interest in this date. Perhaps red would have suited your taste more than black? Or was the restaurant too upscale for your taste? Hanayama would do better next time!

Hanayama is so worried when you tremble before him like a frightened rabbit. His large hand held your small one in his as his eyes softened at you.

“Why are you shaking so much?” Hanayama softly asked, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “Is it too cold in here?”

You sniffle a bit as a few tears fall down your face. “People said you might have done something to Yuki… but you didn’t, right?”

Ah. You wanted reassurance about that man’s disappearance. How kind of you… but you had no need to worry.

“I only ever do anything if it’s in your best interest.” Hanayama gave you a soft smile, one that was specifically reserved for you. He reached his free hand over so his fingers could wipe away your tears. “Your happiness is my number one priority.”

You nodded your head as you leaned into his touch. An action that made a delighted shiver run down Hanayama’s spine.

“You always do so much for me, Kaoru.” Hanayama loved that you called him by his first name. You were the only person in this world that was allowed to do that. “I just feel so bad… is there anything I can do for you?”

Hanayama gave you a sweet smile as he moved his hands away from your form. His right hand reached into his suit jacket to pull out a small black box. Your eyes widened in shock when Hanayama went down on one knee beside you.

Hanayama opened the box to reveal a dazzling diamond ring that no doubt cost a kidney on the black market. His smile never left his scarred face as he stated to you in a stern voice, “Marry me. Marry me and you’ll never have a worry in the world again. Say that you’ll be mine and no one else’s.”

#baki the grappler #baki hanma #baki son of ogre #baki x reader #baki the grappler x reader #yandere #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere baki #yandere Baki x reader #baki hanayama #hanayama kaoru #kaoru hanayama #yandere Hanayama #Yandere Kaoru Hanayama #Kaoru Hanayama x reader #hanayama kaoru x reader #baki headcanons #Baki fanfic #Baki fanfiction #Baki Yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere yakuza #yandere obsession #tw.smut #tw power imbalance #female reader #baki #baki dou #grappler baki

[neocentral]

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: dubcon, power imbalance, jeno x reader

your feet dangled near the ground, your toes touching the marble lightly, but you kept the position, fighting the urge to lift your feet off the ground as jeno pounded into you mercilessly. a pain surged up your spine as he thrusted into you, making you grimace and whimper through pursed lips, words refusing to leave your mouth.

what could you say with a stack of cash just out of reach?

and truthfully, the money was worth more than your dignity. you need it so badly and jeno knows that, deciding to take advantage of your vulnerable situation to get what he wanted. he showed no regret as he pinned your arms behind your back with one strong hand and pressed your head against the wood of the bar harshly with the other. his built thighs caged in your legs, allowing just enough space for him to comfortably fit his long, thick cock between your wet, puffy lips.

his belt rattled, the expensive metal clashing together and digging into the delicate skin of the tops of your thighs, bruising the area. jeno hadn't bothered to slip your pants all the way off, leaving them bunched but your mid-thigh, and your shirt lifted only to your waist. you couldn't help but feel relieved, trying to avoid the humiliating thought of being completely bare in front of him while he stands fully clothed, cock pulled out from between his open zipper, the surrounding fabric now soaked and ruined by your dripping essence.

jeno chuckles behind you, "all for money..." your skin feels like it's on fire as he continues to laugh lightly, stilling inside your pussy to run the hand on your head down your spine. "a few dollars is all it took to let me bend you over." you keep your head down shamefully, forehead pressed to the surface of the bar, trying to stop your wobbling lips and your watering eyes.

"how much for this?" jeno's voice is deep and lust-filled, fingers dipping between your ass, poking at your puckered rim. you gasp, jolting upwards but you're unable to get far, jeno's crisp white button down hovering over you. he pulses inside you, clearly growing even more aroused. you furrow your brows in slight disgust.

"i could easily double this," he says, letting go of your wrists and stretching his muscular arm to grab the stack of bills. "i could triple it," his digits put pressure on your hole. "this," he drops the money, a dull drop sounding in one of your ears, "is nothing to me."

you hate the way you begin a debate in your mind. it's so much money for someone like you. jeno's a nice guy, right? no. he's not. but do you have any other choice?

"c'mon baby, what do you say?"

#tw dubcon #tw power imbalance #starring... jeno ! #screenplay… #[NEO] play… #jeno x reader #jeno smut #jeno hard hours #nct hard hours #nct x reader #nct smut #nct imagine #jeno imagine #nct fanfic #jeno fanfic #nct dream smut #nct #nct dream #jeno #scripts...

[rookie98writes]

Is That Understood?

Part of the ANBU Series Prev → Next

Relationship: Hatake Kakashi x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Warnings: smut, dubcon, power imbalance, power abuse, degradation, rough sex, rough oral sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink, cum eating, multiple orgasms, POV reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: After your first mission with Team Ro, you think you did well. Your captain has another opinion.

AO3 Link

Even by ANBU standards, this mission was a lot.

Your team had already been out here more than twice the expected two-week timeframe, trapped in a game of cat-and-mouse with your target and his protection detail. A few wrong turns and misunderstood tracks had set the team back over a day. The elements themselves seemed to be against you; the harsh winds and stinging rain of the miserable region ruining a good portion of the team’s supplies and morale.

When you finally caught up to your target, the enemy outnumbered you nearly three to one. But like so many before them, they made the mistake of underestimating your captain.

Kakashi Hatake had been a member of the ANBU for nearly a decade—a feat that was practically unheard of. You heard that he’d joined at a young age at the request of the Fourth Hokage, and had been named Captain in practically no time. It was easy to see why. Kakashi was an excellent captain and expert strategist, and he had a reputation far and wide for his ruthlessness toward his enemies. Just a few hours ago, when your team found the target, the enemy had recognized your captain and referred to him as Cold-blooded Kakashi.

You considered that moniker as you smoothed out your bedroll for another night on the rough forest floor, wondering how accurate it really was. It was true that Kakashi wasn't a big talker, but that was the case with most of the shinobi in the ANBU. Still, he was a strange combination of protective and standoffish, known to take on the burden of a fight and insist his subordinates keep their distance. Whether it was for your own safety or just so you would stay out of his way, you supposed you should be grateful regardless.

Honestly, it was thanks to Kakashi’s quick thinking that the whole team emerged from this fight not only victorious but with minor injuries. You had just enough medical supplies to treat the wounds of your two teammates while your captain scoured the perimeter of the crude camp where you would spend the last night outside the village. It would be a long trek back tomorrow, but within less than 24 hours, you would be home for the first time in over a month. 

You were just lying down when Kakashi returned. “Status?”

“They’ll still need to be checked out at the hospital when we get home,” you answered, “but they’ll be fine for the rest of the trip.”

“Good. I'll have them take first watch. You rest and recover your chakra. I'll wake you when it’s your shift.”

“Yes Captain.”

He disappeared as quickly as he'd shown up. As you laid down, you felt a sense of unease rise in your stomach at your captain’s tone. You were hoping he would offer you some kind of encouragement or praise after the long mission and your ability to heal your teammates with only the tools at hand. But maybe he was still angry with you for the vulnerable position you'd been in earlier.

In a foolish attempt to prove yourself, you’d rushed in despite Kakashi’s warning to stay back. An enemy's katana had nearly cut right through your neck, and you’d have been toast if not for Kakashi blocking the weapon and suffering a deep wound on the shoulder. A wound he hadn't even let you examine, never mind heal. His hard stare when you thanked him for saving you kept you from saying much more.

You had been so excited to serve on team Ro, hoping that working with Kakashi would earn you more recognition within the ANBU. At this point, it seemed more likely that you’d be demoted.

Oh well, you sighed and closed your eyes, feeling your waning adrenaline rush finally give way to exhaustion. We still have the journey home tomorrow. I'll make sure I make a good impression.

⁂

“Y/N.”

Your eyes shot open, heart racing as you tried to prepare for danger. When your vision adjusted to the minimal light, you saw Kakashi crouched beside you; his porcelain mask discarded, his arms crossed and his face stern.

“Right, my shift…” you muttered, lifting yourself up on one elbow.

Kakashi stopped you with his hand on your shoulder, his grip as strong as iron. “No. Not yet.”

“Then what—”

“There’s something I need you to do.”

Your palms started to sweat under his sharp gaze. He clearly expected you to understand, but you were lost. If it wasn't time for you to go on guard, what did he want?

The blood on his shoulder caught your eye, flooding you with both relief and embarrassment. You should have taken care of his injury before going to sleep, regardless of your low chakra, and regardless of his insistence that you left it alone. It was your job as the team’s medic to heal your teammates, and leaving your captain with a gash like that was unforgivable.

Channeling your healing chakra to gather in your hands, you started to sit upright, thinking he wanted you to get right to work. But to your mounting confusion, he only held you back with more force.

“No, Y/N,” he barked, his eyebrow angled sharply over his dark eye. “Did I tell you to do that?”

“Uh, no, but—”

“You do know that I wouldn't even have that wound if you were better at following directions, right?” he chastised you. “Your insubordination is a detriment to the entire team. Next time it could be fatal.”

Much as you’d been expecting a lecture, your face reddened with embarrassment at his admonition. Silence was easier to handle than this.

“I can't let your behavior continue,” he announced. “We’re going to work on your obedience.”

“Obedience?” you echoed.

“In the field, a squad captain has absolute authority, and squad members are expected to follow without question. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Show me.” Abruptly, he put his hands on his thighs and pushed himself to stand at his full height, looming over you. “Sit up on your knees.”

“Wh…what?”

“Don't you know an order when you hear one?” he snapped. “On. Your. Knees.”

You quickly got into position, keeping your eyes on his face to be ready for his next instruction. But this position was beyond distracting. You’d been harboring a crush on the genius captain for a while, and this suggestive placement was making your heart race.

Get a grip, you shouted in your mind, fighting the urge to rub your thighs together. But your mind went blank as his hands went to the fastening of his pants.

His gloved hands moved quickly; one hand flicking open the button as the other reached inside. You felt your brain stutter as he pulled out his cock; pale and thick with veins running from the blunt tip down to the base. The tip was shiny with a small drop of precum beading at the slit. You knew your eyes were as wide as saucers, but you couldn't look away, watching as his hand wrapped around the length and he started stroking himself.

“Now open your mouth. And stick out your tongue.”

You were so mesmerized, you barely registered his low voice. “H-huh?”

“How stupid can you be?” he snarled. “You're supposed to be showing me that you can follow directions. Don't tell me this is the best you can do?”

His harsh tone finally got through to you. You looked up at his face, your clit throbbing at how closely his onyx eye watched you. With that image, the order wasn't even necessary. Your jaw dropped open of its own accord, mouth watering as your tongue pushed out beyond your lower lip.

If it weren't for that mask on the lower half of his face, you were sure you’d be staring at a wide grin.

“That’s better.”

Kakashi took a small step forward, bringing his body close enough that he could rest his cockhead on your pink tongue. He let out a quiet, gravelly moan and pumped himself faster, rubbing the smooth skin of his tip over your tongue.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, the expletive making your core clench around nothing. The taste of his salty skin and precum caused you to drool. You stuck out your tongue a little more and bobbed your head forward, ready to wrap your lips around his shaft, but he buried his free hand in your hair and held you back by your roots.

“Don't act without instruction from your commander,” he barked, twisting your hair around his fingers to maneuver you and force eye contact. “Greedy slut, you want my cock that badly?”

You nodded as best you could, the tip of your tongue gliding back and forth over the ridge of his cockhead.

“I want you to show me that you can be a good girl and follow directions,” he said. “Then I’ll let you suck it.”

Kakashi loosened his grip on your hair and released himself, letting the stiff appendage bob freely in front of your face. “First, kiss the tip.”

It took every ounce of your willpower to resist taking as much of him in your mouth as you could handle. But as badly as you wanted him, you wanted his approval more.

You puckered your lips and kissed him, letting your lips roll over his skin to engulf half of his head. You held still for a few seconds before releasing him with an audible smooch, then looked up at him with wide eyes for your next instruction.

“Again.”

He had you repeat the kiss twice before changing gears, directing you to kiss down the underside of his cock, then lick him from balls from tip.

“Fuck, that tongue,” he groaned, letting his eye roll and his head fall back. “Hmmm, I think I finally found what you’re good for.”

You blushed, embarrassed by how wet his comments were making you. Lust clouded your brain and everything else melted away. He sounded so beautiful, you wanted to listen to him and look at him forever. You didn’t even notice how distracted you’d gotten from your task until Kakashi spoke.

“Don't stop,” he ordered, his hand on the back of your skull pulling your face into his crotch. “Not now, when you’re finally doing something right.”

You went back to work with twice the enthusiasm, worshiping Kakashi’s dick with your lips and tongue—kissing, tasting, and licking every inch and working him up until he was twitching against your cheek at the lightest kitten lick. Suddenly, he held you back with a quiet whimper, his body rigid. You looked up at him, seeing his eyes screwed shut and his jaw set tight. His cock was red and shiny, precum leaking from the engorged head.

He peeled his eye open and pinched the base of his dick, abruptly slapping it down on your right cheek. When he pulled away, a thick glob of precum stuck to your skin and trailed back to his cock.

“Dirty whore,” he exhaled. “You’re just desperate for me, aren't you?”

Kakashi pressed his thumb into the puddle on your face, smearing his fluids down across your skin until his thumb rested on your lower lip. “Eat it.”

You eagerly took his thumb into your mouth and sucked, your cheeks hollowing as you ran your tongue all over his rough skin.

“You’re such a filthy cumslut. I bet you want me to cum right in your mouth.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed around him, nodding and blinking up at him.

With another curse uttered under his breath, Kakashi tugged you back and moved his free hand to grip his cock. He tilted your head to look up at him, then slapped his dick back into your face.

“If you suck it well enough, maybe I will.”

Your body shivered, so eager for him that you couldn't even think straight. Your lust had you paralyzed. It was almost like you needed to take the time to really memorize this moment; unable to process that your most shameful fantasies were actually coming true.

“Aww, are you waiting for an order?” he condescendingly asked, tilting his head to the side. “Looks like you can be taught after all.”

He dragged your head back, putting just enough room between you for his cock to point at you like a predator, locked on its prey. “Alright,” he sneered. “Suck my cock, you little whore.”

Finally.

You opened your mouth wide and guided him in with your tongue. Kakashi hissed and used his grip on your hair to pull you in closer, forcing more and more of his length into your mouth. You whined around him as his tip already prodded at the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex while you still had inches to go.

“Fucking shit—” he hissed, pinching his eye closed. “That feels so fucking good.”

His other hand joined the first in your hair, giving him complete control as he started thrusting against your mouth. You swallowed around him, tightening the muscles of your throat as he tugged you back and forth like a doll. Saliva bubbled in the corners of your mouth, drooling down your chin.

“Messy little cocksleeve.”

Kakashi grabbed your face with both hands, manipulating you back and forth as he roughly fucked your mouth. Curses flew from his covered mouth, muffled by his mask but still reaching your ears. He slowed his pace and looked down at you, still with that patronizing gleam in his eye.

“Show me your tits.”

You pulled the hem of your shirt up, bundling it and your lightweight bra under your chin. Without the support of your clothes, your breasts swung freely, enthralling your typically-aloof captain.

“Look at you. You’re such a slut for me.”

He moved one of his hands from your head down to your breast, bending his back to reach lower and experimentally pinch your hardened nipple. The movement forced his cock further down your throat, making you choke. But it felt so good, you couldn’t help but arch your back to give him easier access, earning you a haughty chuckle. His callused fingers toyed with your nipple until you were nearly shaking. Then he moved to the other, sharply smacking your breast before pinching your nipple tightly.

You wanted him to touch every part of you; to use those fingers over every inch of your skin. As your tongue lapped at the underside of his cock, you couldn't help but rock your hips in search of just a little relief, praying you would find out what those fingers would feel like inside of you.

Kakashi stopped playing with your breasts, opting instead to regain his complete control over your head. With both hands molded to the back of your skull, he pulled you further forward, not even letting you take a breath to prepare. 

“Come on, Y/N. Take the whole thing.”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes as he forced you just that last centimeter closer, suffocating you with his cock down your throat and your nose in his hair.

“Stay right there,” he exhaled, sounding like the personified version of lust. “Learn your place.”

Looking directly into his eye, you hummed your assent—a muffled song to the tune of Yes, Captain. You could see his chest rise and fall as he steadied his breathing. His eye roamed all over you, taking in the lewd scene with a smirk.

“Do you like being my fuck toy?”

Another hum. Yes, Captain.

“You like serving me? Warming my cock in your throat?”

Yes, Captain.

“Wanna give me that slutty cunt?”

YES, CA—

He abruptly pulled himself out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for breath; choking on your built-up saliva and his gooey precum. The tears were fresh in your eyes as you did your best to recover, only thinking of how to be ready for his next instruction.

With a nod his head, he gestured to your bedroll. “Take off your pants and get on all fours.”

Your fingers were clumsy as they worked at your clothes, wanting to follow his order as quickly and efficiently as possible. His pants dropped to the ground and he kicked them off, impatience nearly visible under his skin. As you positioned yourself on the bedroll, you regretted that you wouldn’t be able to look at him anymore. But when he knelt behind you—the heat of him pressed against your inner thigh—regret was the last thing on your mind.

With one of his hands gripping your thigh to hold you still, Kakashi ran the index finger of his other hand along your dripping folds.

“Pretty…”

The compliment was barely a whisper, probably not meant for your ears at all. But that one single word made you preen like a schoolgirl. You arched your back to present for him further, and you were sure you heard him chuckle.

“Get ready,” he exhaled, removing his finger and replacing it with the head of his cock. “Gonna fuck you like the whore you are.”

Kakashi snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you and stretching you wider and fuller with that one thrust than you’d ever felt before.

“AHH—”

His free hand flew up to cover your mouth, cutting off the sound. You whimpered as his body weight pushed down on you, his mouth right by your ear. “Quiet, Y/N,” he whispered, “or the others will hear you.”

You nodded, biting your tongue as Kakashi pulled his hips back just to pound into you again. He kept his hand over your mouth and you could smell your wetness that was still sticky on his fingers. 

“Or maybe you want that,” Kakashi challenged you in a hushed tone, beginning to fuck you in earnest. “You want them to know your captain is balls deep in your wet little cunt?”

The idea made you shiver as you pictured what you must look like right now; messy hair, tear-stained cheeks, mouth covered by Kakashi’s gloved hand. Eyes rolling back in your head, lids fluttering with every one of his deep thrusts.

“No, no you'll be quiet for me,” he smirked. “You understand how important it is to follow your captain’s orders now, don't you?”

Your fingers dug into the ground below you, threatening to tear through the material of your bedroll. Horrifically lewd sounds continued to try and work their way past his hand. You weren’t trying to test him, but you couldn’t fight it; not when his formidable dick was dragging so perfectly along all your most sensitive spots.

You tried your best to be silent, but you hardly saw the point between the sounds of your pussy squelching with his thrusts, his hips smacking into your ass, his breathing short and broken in your ear. 

“Mmmm you’ll do whatever your captain tells you, won't you? So eager to please me; it’s pathetic.”

You threw your hips back into him, meeting his thrusts with messy, slippery contact. Your hot arousal was coating your inner thighs, your body prepared with a seemingly endless supply to allow your captain to fuck you for as long as he wanted.

“Fuck you feel so good,” he panted, his hips stuttering. “That's right, you're doing so well now, taking my whole cock every single time. That's my good girl. I knew you could follow orders.”

Those praises uttered in his low, thunderous voice had you trembling. You couldn’t believe how quickly he’d gotten you so close to finishing, but the pressure below your navel was so high that you were whimpering into his hand.

“If you cum on my cock, you’re mine,” he grunted. “Only mine. Is that understood?”

“Nmhmm!” You shook your head as your walls fluttered around him, suddenly clutching down and holding him in place as your body convulsed. If not for his hand over your mouth, you were sure you would have screamed out his name paired with every curse you knew, and maybe a few new ones because there simply weren’t enough to carry you through this incredible pleasure.

“Fuck!” Kakashi whined. “Fuck that feels so good.” He released your mouth just as you were coming down from your orgasm, only to reach between your legs and fiercely rub your clit. “Do it again,” he growled. “Cum again. Right now.”

Your body complied automatically. Euphoria again sparked through your body and a guttural sob tore its way out of your mouth. You hadn’t completely recovered, yet here you were: inner muscles squeezing down on his cock which continued to bully past your defenses, despite your sensitivity.

“Ohhh you’re gonna help your captain cum now, aren't you Y/N?” His fingers gripped your hips and yanked you back and forth desperately, “G-good—fuuucking girl.”

Kakashi slammed your ass into his hips, the tip of his cock bruising your insides in a frenzy before flooding you with hot, sticky cum. He kept your ass flush against him, his cock reaching further into your body than you thought possible. You tightened around him as he dumped every bit of his pent-up seed in your submissive cunt, unwilling to lose even a drop.

You felt him twitch with his last efforts to empty himself. A mixture of sweat and cum covered the backs of your legs, sticking the two of you together. You heard his heavy breathing in your ear, the weight of his chest on your back nearly causing you to crumble.

In one motion, he leaned away and pulled out of you, leaving you a shaking, trembling mess. You couldn’t even catch yourself when your arm gave out and sent you dropping to the ground, legs sprawled out flat behind you.

You heard Kakashi moving around behind you: the swishing of his clothes as he got dressed and the sound of his footsteps.

“So, um…clean yourself up,” he stammered. “Then, uh, take the northern perimeter. For the…for patrol.”

You were sure he had left long before you had the strength to smile and sigh, “Yes…Captain.”

⁂

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…

You hurried down the hall to the Hokage’s office, heart pounding with every step. When your fellow ANBU shinobi gave you the message that Lord Third was summoning you right away, you felt your stomach drop. Did one of your teammates know what happened in the woods? Kakashi hadn't said a word to you the entire trip back. How much trouble were you in?

What’s the punishment for getting fucked by your captain, anyways?

Another ANBU met you at the door and announced your arrival to the Sandaime, who called for you to enter. You forced your legs not to shake as you stepped into the office.

Lord Hiruzen sat behind his desk, with Kakashi standing beside him. Kakashi wore his porcelain mask over his face, and he stood as still as a statue while the Hokage spoke.

“I’ve reviewed the team’s report on your last mission,” he began. “It turned out to be quite the challenge, wouldn’t you say?”

Which part, the assassination, or the fucking?

“Our team faced a number of challenges,” you agreed, “but we were able to eliminate the target and complete the mission.”

“Yes, a job well done.” The Hokage nodded with a smile. “According to your captain's evaluation, I would like to formally assign you to team Ro, permanently.”

Against your better judgment, you looked at Kakashi. He remained stoic as ever, and you would have given anything to see his face.

“Really?”

“According to this report, you did a wonderful job tending to your team,” Lord Third continued. “Team Ro has been short a member for a while now, and I think you will be the perfect fit.”

“T-thank you, Lord Hokage.”

“Now, both of you go home and get some well-deserved rest. I’m sure I’ll have another assignment for the team soon enough.”

“Yes sir.”

Sufficiently dismissed, you turned and walked out of the office, Kakashi’s nearly silent footsteps behind you.

“Congratulations,” Kakashi stoically offered as you neared the end of the hall.

You waited until you were sure you were out of earshot before you stopped dead in your tracks, turning and blocking Kakashi’s path with your body. You reached out and lifted the hound mask from his face, then leaned closer, enjoying the surprise behind his eye and the flush of his cheeks.

“All thanks to you, Captain.”

► masterlist

#the man the myth the menace #kakashi x reader smut #anbu kakashi #tw dubcon #tw power imbalance #kakashi smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi x you smut #anbu kakashi smut #hatake kakashi x reader #kakashi imagine #rookie98writes #rookie wrote

[the-oracles-maw]

hesitancy

totally self indulgent trash

tw: implied past abusive relationship, power imbalance, this relationship isn't very healthy gang

Simon “ghost” riley x reader

"Simon? Are you ready to go?"

Your fiancé briefly pauses from typing away at the home office laptop. He was totally engrossed in finalizing paperwork, you paid little mind to the details. You squeeze your arm, nervously, shuffling in the gown you've picked out for the night. Simon's old military buddies had invited you both to a charity event. Something for veterans. Your gown was a tank-sleeve, somewhat form fitting number, that cascaded down to your ankles. It was a deep, dark teal color, and from the sleeves, a sheer, sparkly black split "cape" cascaded down your back, past your feet and onto the floor.

"Mn... in a minute." Simon's response was blunt. Not even looking up from the computer screen, sending a pang in your stomach. Perhaps he was very, very focused. And you must've disturbed him.

Shaking out the dress shirt he's picked out for the evening, you lay it over the back of the chair, daring to speak up again. "We've gotta leave in about a half hour."

"Mn..." His grunt became a little louder, as if he was annoyed. Or, at the very least, aware of your presence, fingers flying away across the keyboard.

"Um...." You speak up, your voice barely above a whisper. "Do... do you want me to call John?" Wondering if perhaps Simon didn't want to go to the charity. He wasn't exactly a people-person, as you knew. Perhaps offering him an out would please him? You always did your best to please your stoic man. "I... I can tell him you're not feeling well and-"

"Nah," he responded, still not looking at you. "I'll be done soon."

With each passing moments, your posture grew more tense, your body language growing more demure, submissive. A defense mechanism you've picked up in the past, especially regarding the men in your life. If you read their minds, you thought, if you bent over backwards to please them, then...

Simon, on the other hand, had a decent idea of what he was doing to you, as you meekly muttered that you were going to wait for him in the living room. A surge of adrenaline rushes through him hearing your meek voice, a tingling that starts in his chest, and creeps into his loins. A power imbalance he doesn't exactly relish, but didn't do anything to put a stop to either, under the assumption that this was just how you were.

There was a time, that, perhaps, Simon was amused of how easily you submitted to him. A ghost (lol) of a smile curling up his lips, he finishes up the paperwork on the laptop, and closes it. Grabbing the dress jacket you left on the computer chair for him, he makes his way into the living room, where you waited.

You were still curled into yourself. Did Simon not like the dress? Was it too revealing? You'd pulled over a big, fluffy jacket over it. Your shoulders drawn to each other, pinching the bit of visible tummy from your dress. Simon's lack of comment or attention has clearly done a blow on your self-esteem.

Simon looked on, despite his massive size, entirely silent. Flickers of compassion watch over him as he watches your pick yourself apart. He's grown to expect your complete submission, but now without having complicated feelings for it. The man couldn't deny that there was something sickeningly endearing the way you modified your behavior on a whim just to please him.

Simon knows exactly why you cast aside your gaze whenever he enters the room, when he's anything less than beaming with happiness. He knows exactly why you pick at your tummy, why you scrunch your shoulders. He knows very well, that you're irrationally terrified of the man. "You alright?" Simon, aware of your anguished state, lowers his voice as he approaches you.

You straighten up as he approaches. Furiously rubbing your tear stained eyes and cheeks, you rise to meet him. "I'm okay, Si. I'm okay." The man isn't convinced, but he allows you to adjust the collar of his dress jacket and shirt.

"You sure?" Simon was starting to grow concerned. This power, he was used to it. The assumption that this was just how you were... Well... to say he wasn't beginning to crow a little concerned was an understatement. Did he do something to cause this? Did something frighten you?

He sadly, was disappointed, but not al ass surprised, when he placed his hands over yours to fix his collar himself, and you flinched.

He backs up, raising his hands in surrender, also raising an inquisitive brow at this extreme reaction. His eyes soften at your spluttering following words:

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I-"

"You're trembling." His deep, accented voice rumbled. It was softer than it had been all night. His hands hovered over yours, not quite touching them, but they just, barely graved over yours as they shook. Violently.

"Come, let's talk about this. Come sit, luv." He made sure to watch his tone. With your anguished mental state, you would certainly get the wrong idea if he asked you to do something for him. He sits next to you and begins. "Now, what's going on, huh? You scared of me?"

You don't answer.

It was answer enough.

That did anger him. but for your sake, that anger only simmered inside him. He's exploited people being afraid of him for so long. Came with being a master interrogator, of course. But to see his significant other shy away from him like this? Did you think the man was made of stone?

"Easy... easy..." His hands hover over your shoulders and chest as you pull yourself tightly together. Simon thought his ego would be thoroughly fed by the way you were acting. Perhaps, at one time. At one time. Not now.

"Just... breathe... alright? Breathe... Relax... Don't look at me like I'm about to strike you, luv. I'm not. You hear me?"

His tone is gentle, but firm. His hands hover over your face now, as if he wants to wipe away your tears, but doesn't. As if touching your face would drive you over the edge. His voice continues to whisper to you, enveloping your senses like a great blanket, until you've sufficiently calmed down. Giving you a small smile, Simon shed his jacket.

"Look, I'm not... liking what I'm seeing..." he motioned his hand in a circle around you. "here." He reaches over, making sure to touch the jacket and not you, pulling it off.

"Well won't you look at that... A sight for sore eyes, luv." You swear you saw him lick his lips. "Just makin' sure you know it ain't about the dress." He even gave you a small smile.

"Look..." he began. "I know I can be... well, fuck it, intense but..." A long sigh. "You? You're my partner. Not my fucking squamates." He was still whispering. "I don't want to have to come home to someone who looks like a tick about to fucking pop whenever they're around me."

You avert your gaze.

"No, come on, luvie, look at me." This time, he did touch you, the tips of his big fingers tilting your chin. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"I..." you start, your voice barely audible. "I don't know... why..."

"You know, just cause I'm military, don't mean I'm gonna smack you around, got me?"

"I know, I... I really don't know why I'm like this... I don't know why you scare me."

You cover your mouth as Simon gives you a slow nod. "I see. Don't say anything, luv." He reaches out his hand, unfurled, wanting you to take it. "Looks like we've got a little something to work on, yeah?"

He was right. This was something that was only going to worsen the more it was ignored. Instead of taking Simon's hand, you withdraw. Simon closes it and gives a proud nod. You needed to learn and shake the idea that due to your fiancé's career, that he had no intention to hurt you.

And Simon needed to swallow his pride, and read you better. Having you cater to every whims down to the way he breathes, is only going to brew fear and resentment, not love and respect.

"I think we should call it off, yeah?" Simon scoots in closer to you. Your sides were touching. "I don't think you're in any state to mingle about a bunch of people."

You agreed.

"Why don't you put on something cozy, I'll give John and the shrink a call, yeah?"

You were going to work on this. You weren't going to be mindlessly flighty around your man. And he was willing to put in the work himself to show you had nothing to fear? You were touched. Beyond touched.

Your face lights up, ever so slightly, and you speak, the clearest as you have that night. "Okay. Simon?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

~the-oracles-maw~

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #call of duty modern warfare #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #my writng #writeblr #ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod #cod mw2 #tw power imbalance #tw implied abuse #hurt/comfort #tw toxic relationship #woahhhh #I wrote something #that's radical dude

[mhathotfic]

Thinking about the classic nanny/husband affair with a guilty Midoriya

Mr. Midoriya who feels terrible about indulging in you because he is married, and you are 15 years his junior and he really should have known better and be the adult in the situation.

But you're so sweet and he and his wife weren't doing so well and god you’re gorgeous and so difficult to say no to when you give him such pleading eyes.

How could he say no when you were looking up at him with those hungry, desperate eyes that begged him for his love? How could he not bend you over his kitchen counter after his kid was in bed and just before his wife arrived home from work?

It was a risk to do it this close to her usual return time but he couldn't resist this temptation.

#bnha midoriya #mha midoriya #tw cheating #tw age gap #tw power imbalance #boss x employee

[digital-domain]

Retrieval

Alastor x Reader // word count 4.4k

Pt 3 to Spring Cleaning and Clean Slate

In which you attempt to leave.

Tags/warnings: yandere, intimidation, noncon kissing, choking, Alastor’s shadow doing things a shadow should not be able to do

A/N: Really thought this was gonna be a one-off but here we are. I usually don’t even write one follow-up, much less two, so this is unfamiliar terrain for me. Alas, I could not resist. Enjoy (or don’t. I’m not in charge.)

You remember a time when this was good. Well - no. You’re sure, now, that it was rotten from the beginning. But there was a time when it felt good. When you invited it in. When you wanted more.

Time for bed, my dear. 

He’s said this to you many times. Now, each repetition deepens the never-ending pit in your stomach. But the first time…how long ago was it? You don’t remember. You don’t even remember how long you’ve been here. Here at this hotel, or here, in hell - each one distorts hours and months in its own way. They tug at you until you slip through the fingers of time, and end up on a day you don’t remember arriving at, in a place that is only yours if you forget what has happened there.

It’s far too late for you to be thinking as deeply as you are.

You’d been sitting on the top of the stairs for a long time that night, however-long-ago, fending off the inevitable onset of your dreams. He’d been gone all day, and when he had finally returned (from where, you never found out), he’d seen you from the lobby. Called out to you, in a voice far too quiet and gentle to carry to your ears as well as it did. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to you, but it was the first time he’d spoken to you alone. And even if that wasn’t true, there would have been something different about it. 

And, in my opinion, far too fair a night for such misery.

From the beginning, you’d known that nothing about him was entirely unfiltered. The first time you’d met, he’d given a wonderful little performance. Shaken your hand, taken you by the shoulder, quickly escorted you away from the people who would soon warn you not to trust him. And you’d known it was fake. Of course you had. You weren’t, perhaps, the most excellent judge of character, but you knew no one acted like that by instinct. It was calculated. Not to be trusted.

It struck you oddly, then, to hear such an allegedly inhuman character talk about something as mundane as the joy of pleasant weather. It felt entirely real, even at an hour when almost nothing seemed real at all. Hell did have its decent moments, now and then; there were no seasons, so to speak, but very occasionally you’d get a day that felt like summer, and a night to match. It was nice, when it happened. Delightful, even. 

But, if you insist upon staying awake - and I admit, I do understand that impulse better than most - I suggest you do it somewhere with an open window. 

The realization had hit, somewhere in the middle of this, that he was being kind to you. You hadn’t wondered why at the time. You’d take anything you could get, in those early, confused days after your death, and receiving it from an unexpected source somehow made it better. He didn’t do things like this out of obligation. He cared, for some reason you could only guess at.

You’re still guessing, now. But that night, you hadn’t thought so deeply about it. You’d only stared back at him, and nodded almost imperceptibly at his suggestion. 

He’d paused, matching your silence for a long stretch. Considered your expression, in the way those unblinking eyes always seemed uniquely suited for.

Shall I escort you to your room, my dear?

You’d nodded mutely, and he’d ascended the stairs, offered you his hand, helped you to your feet, guided you to your door.

And then, a mistake. Grateful, exhausted, feeling utterly alone in a strange world - you’d invited him in. 

He’d opened your window for you, and lingered beside it for several quiet seconds before you asked him to sit down in your desk chair. He’d smiled strangely at that, softer than you were used to, and left quickly, almost hastily, after only a few minutes. But he’d stood motionless in the hallway for several seconds before you’d heard him walk away. 

After that night, you never invited him in again - you didn’t have to. He came of his own accord. Only occasionally, at first. Then, more often, until hardly a day went by without it. It was almost pleasant, at first, and then a slow, unyielding creep towards what you have now. Something you don’t understand. Something you only started resenting after it was too late to back away. 

You’ve spent a long time wondering why he chose you, of all people. Why he feels so entitled to your space, to your life, why he wants it to begin with. Why he holds onto you so tightly. You’ve even asked him, in roundabout ways, to no avail. But somewhere in your mind, a shoved-down place that only now rises to the surface, you think that it might be your fault. Your fault, for being so desperate for solace, for company, that you’d take it from anyone you could. For feeling proud to have gained his attention, long after the point where it stopped doing you any good.

Now, lying above your bed covers, you toy with the hem of your slip, which you’ve absently pulled up to mid-thigh. Perhaps you don’t need to be wearing it tonight. Alastor has been mysteriously absent from the hotel in the two days that have passed since his last appearance in your room. You doubt whatever’s called him away has left him much time for spying upon you. And still, you feel compelled to act as if he is watching. As if he might return to your bedside at any moment.

Your memory flashes back to two nights ago, and you try to yank it away. You don’t want to think about what he did to you then. You certainly don’t want to think about why. The way his eyes were fixed not on your body, but on your face, as if it was your shame he wanted to see, and nothing more.

It was unsettling. But perhaps not surprising. If it was only your body that he wanted, after all, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to control the rest of you. That, you don’t understand. That - it’s what really keeps you awake.

The light from your lamp, which you have no intention of turning off, stings beneath your closed eyes as you lie rigidly on your back. You barely slept the night before, either, so this day passed in a sort of stupor, the adrenaline of early morning giving way to a numb, heavy feeling as the afternoon dragged on.

But the numbness is good, in a way, you think. It lets you do things you wouldn’t otherwise. With your eyes still closed, you bring your other hand to the hem of the slip. The lace and the silk above it are delicate, and you pull hard with both fists. The light ripping noise that follows is beautiful, for a moment.

Then, the familiar dread snaps back into place, worse for your act of stupidity. 

He will be back, before long. His sudden absence has not been a reprieve, but a looming threat, a two-day stretch in which you have not taken one proper breath, and you have the feeling that he will know what you have done the moment he returns. 

If he does not somehow know already. If you haven’t already summoned him back by the rebellious movements of your hands. There is panic coursing through you, fear not of what is here now but of what has been, and what will be. It’s not the panic you’d feel at an immediate threat, like a wild animal baring down on you in a dark forest - instead, it’s the sort of inescapable head-buzzing sensation you experienced often in life, when you’d been in a room for far too long, and were not yet allowed to leave. An overwhelming feeling that you are trapped, not by physical bonds, but by the consequences that might ensue if you walk away.

If you were to walk away, to run away…what would happen? You do not know, and you don’t want to think about it. You want to leave. No - you need to leave. If you do not do it now, now, you never will. And the idea of never leaving, of this stretching on until he decides that it’s time for it to end - if he ever does -

You sit up, and swing your legs over the edge of your bed. He will be back soon. You’re sure of it. And you cannot bear the thought of being here when he returns. 

What can you do about it? You can do something. You can stand up. You can find the large backpack stuffed into the corner of your closet, and start shoving things inside. You don’t have many things at all, and most of the things you do have are not important enough to keep. You’re certainly not bringing any of these clothes with you. 

All these things, you do quickly, in a sort of daze, driven by a single motive. Get out, get out. It is easy, if you don’t stop moving. If you don’t think more than you have to, if you let this one idea drive you all the way out the door. One set of clothes, you do have to bring - the one that goes on your body. The only one that you feel even remotely comfortable wearing. Black trousers, red sweater. The contents of the small compartments of your dresser have been replaced, so you do not feel comfortable with the things you are wearing underneath these clothes, but they are quickly hidden. You are not in strong enough possession of your body to feel them clinging to your skin.

You’ve discarded the slip onto the floor, and with the way it’s crumpled, you can’t even see the small rip in the hem. It’s not enough. You pick it up and rip it further, until it is torn all the way to the neck, before dropping it like it’s on fire. Perhaps it would be better to take it with you, to get rid of it in a place where he won’t see the remains, but you do not want to have it for a second longer. It flutters back to the floor, and you cover your clean, white, unfamiliar socks with the ragged sneakers you’ve somehow been allowed to keep. 

Where do you go? Where can you go? For reasons that you certainly didn’t come up with yourself (reasons that seemed like cloying but utterly convincing advice, at the time) you barely speak to anyone outside of these walls. You haven’t even got a phone. And even if you did, you can’t imagine pulling anyone into this mess - your mess, a quiet voice in your head reminds you. This is your creation, and you will see it through alone. There is a motel, you remember, a shoddy building a few streets away that you’ve taken notice of every time you’ve passed. You will go there, and you will sleep, and tomorrow -

Tomorrow does not matter yet. Tonight, you only need to leave. 

You’re sure that no one in this building is awake. Or at least, no one is awake enough to check on the noises your feet make as they collide, painfully loud, over and over, with the creaking hallway floor. And yet, you advance as slowly and carefully as you can manage, barely keeping at bay the adrenaline that urges you to run. The night is pleasantly warm, but a shudder runs through you as you crack open the front door of the sleeping hotel. This, too, you keep at bay, instructing your feet to keep moving until you dislodge the disarming chill from your bones, and settle back into your skin. You are walking quickly, but not running, as you wade into the dark streets before you. It is a bad idea, being out here alone, at this hour, and running is loud. 

Then again, you think your breathing might be harsher, at this moment, than any noise the soles of your shoes could create.

You didn’t realize until now that you already had this route mapped out in your head, so clearly that you can follow it without thinking. It’s not far. Quicker if you slide through the little alley to your left. Quicker still if you speed up, just a bit, just enough that your breath catches oddly in your throat, exertion mixing with the faintest glimmer of hope. There is a breeze flowing out from behind you, gentle against the nape of your neck. The streets are mercifully quiet. 

You are not thinking. If you were, you might not be able to tell yourself that all was well. 

As it is, you buy yourself a few more seconds of hope. But your eyes are wide. Too wide and too alert to miss the strange thing that comes your way. Once you see it, you cannot look anywhere else.

Your stomach drops. You slowly ease your bag off of your shoulders, and let it fall to the ground beside you. You will not be taking it any further than here.

You know this, because there is an inexplicable shadow pressed against the side of the alley. It is cast by nothing, darker than the night that surrounds it. A long, abstract shape unfurls bit by bit, extends its tendrils across the worn brick, and drips down until it spills onto the polished boots that have appeared suddenly on the ground in front of you. 

There’s a horribly familiar sigh, but no words. No touch. Not yet.

Soon. Too soon, you’ll hear his voice.

But you find that you do not have the impulse to scream, like anyone else might in this situation. Nor do you want to run. You do not want to take so much as a step backwards. You do not do these things, because you are not scared like you might have expected. No. The thing that quickens your pulse is not fear, but anger. You were so close. You could have made it. And you should have made it.

You should not have had to run to begin with.

You answer a question that you didn’t realize you were asking until this moment. This is not your fault. None of it. Nothing that makes you feel like this could possibly be your doing alone. So, instead of looking up and apologizing, you stare at the ground, and imagine that your eyes shine as intensely as the ones above you. It’s a striking contrast, your worn, comfortable shoes toe-to-toe with polished leather. A victory, in its own small way.

You feel Alastor lean over you, and your hands curl into fists of their own accord. 

“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively calm, “what a terrible risk you’ve taken?”

“Some idea.” You’re seething, just as you know he must be underneath the surface - the only difference is that you aren’t bothering to hide it. “You’ll forgive me.”

“Oh…I’m not talking about my own impulses, my dear. Running was a terrible idea for many reasons.” His glove catches you beneath your jaw - you press back against it for a moment before following its guide. Before looking up into the eyes you never wanted to see again, and the grin that bears down upon you. “You might find it hard to wrap your head around, considering its current misguided state, but I assure you that I am far from the only threat that the nights of hell have to offer.”

“But you are a threat.” He’s shown his hand, you think. It’s satisfying to point out - until it’s thrown back in your face. 

“Only when provoked, darling.” His eyes are a brighter red than you’ve ever seen them, glowing with some intense emotion - whether it’s hatred or a deep appreciation, you don’t know, and will never know. He releases your jaw, runs his finger slowly down the line of your neck. “But you’ve no need to worry…it would take quite a lot of provocation for me to hurt you. Even now, I’m not even close to taking such drastic action.” 

Your teeth grind together, clenched as tightly as his pasted-on smile, as the fist wrapped around his staff. “You think you haven’t hurt me already?”

“Oh, my.” He laughs gently, dismissively - but it’s not quite as convincing as usual. He’s standing rigidly, pressing the bottom of his staff tightly against the ground, holding his free hand not behind his back, but at his side. Fingers stiffly curled, practically trembling with the effort of holding still, as if they’re itching to grab onto something.“You are feeling bold tonight. Not as if I couldn’t tell by the little present you left behind in your room…but it is rather strange to experience it in person. You’re usually such a sweetheart.”

You tune out the syrupy condescension of his voice. You’re done with listening to him. Done with beating around the bush, done with getting brushed aside again and again. “What do you want from me?”

“Cliches don’t suit you, my dear,” he intones darkly. “Especially not when paired with that expression.” He slowly raises his hand, and reaches for your face, as if he hopes to rearrange the features he finds so unpleasant. Without a second thought, you jerk backwards, and slap his hand away.

He holds it frozen. Poised in midair. The last time this happened, it was enough to make you tug back everything you’d just done. 

Not this time.

“What,” you hiss, taking another full step back, “do you want from me?”

The corner of his grin twitches so severely that you can almost imagine it dropping from his face. “At the moment, I only wish for you to return home.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You hold your fists at your sides. Spine straight, shoulders pressed back. Toes curled inside your shoes. You can feel the unfamiliar undergarments clinging to your hips, your ribcage - you want them gone. You want him gone. 

“Then pray tell, my dear”-

“All of it.” You hold his gaze as his head tilts slowly to one side. Listen to the cracking of bones, and press on, before you can think better of it. “You won’t let me go. You can’t. And I don’t even get to know why.” There’s a desperation in your voice, rising with the volume of it, quickly spiraling out of your control. “All I know is that you’re - you’re trying to control me, and that I hate it, and that I don’t fucking understand it.”

Images from two nights before descend upon your mind, and your train of thought comes entirely undone. It’s more than images, really. You can certainly picture him standing over you, his red eyes flaring as you stripped yourself bare in front of him, but you can also feel it, the awful heat under your skin battling with the chill of the air, the brush of his finger along your hip, the gentle kiss to your forehead. The hands pulled tightly behind his back. And the way you felt then, the thing you’d be afraid of, if it was anyone else.

“You - you don’t”- You feel strangely distant from your body, as if your mind is a separate entity, floating somewhere slightly outside of your skull. Your mouth takes a sharp breath, and more words cascade out before you can return to stop them. “I was fucking naked in front of you, and you didn’t feel anything. If you don’t want - that”-

Any other stupid words you might say are cut off by a rising buzz of static, which emanates from him as his staff disappears before your eyes, and his newly-free hand takes on the stiff, barely-restrained posture of the other. You wonder, in that detached manner your thoughts take on when you are frightened, if he’s doing this on purpose, or if it’s somehow leaking out in a way that’s beyond his control. 

You feel tears welling in your eyes, and try in vain to shove them back down. You don’t know where they came from. “I don’t understand.” 

For the first time, you see his grin drop - not all the way, but enough that the line of it changes, enough that it becomes a grimace. It’s so unsettling that you wish the usual, terrible smile would return. “That much is obvious, my dear. I wonder if you even realize how tragic what you just said really was.”

You freeze as your wrists are snatched by coils of shadow, smooth and inexplicably solid. Your arms are yanked straight down, and when you try to tear them away, you fail. Your hands are free to form fists, but remain trapped against your sides.

“That you can only fathom being desired in such a shallow way…”

His image flickers before you. You’re already half-turned around when he reappears behind you a moment later, but there’s nothing you can do to stop his hands from curling, one finger at a time, around your shoulders, far too close to your neck for comfort. You stare straight ahead as his face twists into the periphery of your vision. 

And he whispers in your ear, his voice bare of any effect, just the hint of some old, earthly accent slipping through. “I’m afraid that I want much more than that.” 

He slides around you at the same moment the bonds around your wrists release, and effortlessly turns you by your shoulders - he does not push you against the wall that now stands behind you, but you step back out of instinct and flatten yourself against it. He matches your steps with his own, traps you between himself and the rough brick at your back, and latches his gloved hand beneath your jaw, wrenching your face upwards. With his other hand, he reaches down, flips your palm so that it’s no longer facing the wall and interlocks his fingers with your own. His grin springs back into place, and oh - you wish you could run now. You would, if you could.

His eyes slide away from you for a moment as he puts something together in his head. “These little acts of rebellion from you…I think I ought to thank you for them.” He blinks slowly, and returns his gaze to your face. “I don’t think I would have realized just how close I wanted to keep you, if you hadn’t attempted to leave. And now…oh. I understand perfectly, now. I know exactly what I want.” He bows his head, lowers his lips to your ear, so that you can hear the shudder of his breath. “I’ll have your soul one day, my dear. A day when you’re already bound so tightly to me that such a contract will be a mere formality.” 

“And until that day comes…” He draws back from the side of your face, stares not into your eyes, but through them. His teeth part. His tongue flicks out from between them, and slides quickly over their jagged edges. “I feel as if I’m prepared to do anything, if only it will bring you closer.” 

The last vestiges of your anger burst forth, and you attempt to wrench your face out of his grasp. He lets you, and moves his hand to the back of your neck, his long fingers pressing harshly into the sides. You look up, eyes wide with terror, as the palm that has been flattened against your own releases your hand from the wall, and rises to curl tightly around your waist. 

He pulls you close. You do not see the moment that his smile disappears, as it surely must - your eyes are already closed when he kisses you, screwed tightly shut as his hot, rancid breath works its way into your lungs. There’s a hint of whiskey beneath the rot, and something metallic, the same taste that floods your mouth when you bite the inside of your lip a bit too hard. His hand slides around from the back of your neck, and closes at your throat - he keeps it there after he’s pulled away, and watches as you struggle against his grip. 

“You have a decision to make now, darling.” He takes a deep, satisfied breath, the tension leaving his posture even as you fight to breathe beneath his hand. “You can return all by yourself…” His fingers curl tighter around your neck, and tendrils of shadow lash at your wrists and ankles, slowly twisting their way up your limbs. “Or, I can bring you back. I imagine that would cause quite a scene..but the choice is yours.” He tilts his head, stares down at you through narrowed eyes, and - after another moment of watching you struggle - eases his grip just enough for you to answer.

You don’t hesitate for a moment. Even if you had the air to argue, you wouldn’t dare. “I’ll - come back” -

“Lovely.” He releases you, and takes a step back. Pulls one hand slowly behind him, as if doing so takes a tremendous amount of effort. “Since you’re so attached to your freedom, I’ll allow you to walk back unsupervised.” He traces the back of his other hand gently down your cheek, stopping only briefly to press the tips of his fingers against the hardened clench of your jaw. You let it go slack - only then does he pull his hand away. “But as I told you before, darling…there are many threats lurking in the shadows of these streets. So I do suggest that you watch your step.” 

His image fades away before you. In the same moment that you watch him disappear, there is a shift in the surface under your feet. You no longer feel the familiar soles of your shoes, but the ground beneath, rough with the texture of cracks and debris. Cold. Not damp, exactly, but carrying the faint suggestion of something wet having only recently become dry. 

Your toes curl inside your pristine white socks, which will soon be stained by the filth of the ground beneath them. There’s a new shadow against the wall - it slides along with you as you carefully retrace your steps home.

#yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #alastor x reader #tw yandere #tw power imbalance

[riizeblr]

just thinking about rich boy! anton who finally makes real his dark fantasies w maids daughter! reader, everyone thinks shes crazy bc wdym the shy boy you grew up with did all these bad thing to you? he even calls you his sister :(((

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: dubcon, power imbalance

you thought you were on a level playing field because growing up, he would listen to you more than you would listen to him. you would boss him around and he would obediently listen and help you without you needing to ask. you even started to think that you had leverage over him like an older sister did and you thought he felt the same when he started referring to you as such. as he grew older things started to change but you didn't think much of it because you just assumed that he was starting to grow into himself naturally and take on assertive qualities. when he did demand stuff of you, he was always so kind about it and he still respected you so you would diligently obey him without complaints because even though you felt like you were equals, he still held more power, he just chose not to use it and you didn't think he ever would.

anton, though, noticed how easily you gave in. he started to test how far he could push the boundaries without you getting suspicious and pulling away from him before he wanted you to. he wanted you to subconsciously feel like you were inferior, but nothing more than a soft whisper in your head telling you to listen.

he started asking you to take his jacket off, sit in his room as he undressed and you prepared a bath for him, help him apply lotion to his bare back and work his taut muscles. he knew you were uncomfortable but you still did it anyway. he eventually stopped trying to hide the way his dick would stiffen when you would massage the days stress from his shoulders, the moans and groans as he spread his legs to make the tent under his towel more visible.

you tried to come up with excuses a few times but he would just give you a slightly disapproving look and you would give in. he still kept his soft demeanor though, and he would still listen to you even when your demands came less and less frequently.

he started to ask you to massage his shoulder while he was naked in the bathtub as he ran his hands along his thighs, creeping closer and closer to his cock as you sat behind him and caressed his hot skin. you were so uncomfortable when he started pumping, rolling his head back and looking you in the eyes as the water jumped and spilled over the sides of the porcelain tub.

you told your mother as much as you could, asking her to inform anton that she would have to take over. but your mom was as fond of anton as you used to be so she couldn't say no and immediately told you to take over again. she could tell that there was something really wrong and you knew she was trying to avoid asking because her job was still on the line and, surely, anton would never do anything to hurt the two of you.

soon enough, you were jerking him off, letting him run your hands down his chest and his inner thighs. you wanted to cry but you still wanted to appear strong and anton loved to see you struggle.

when anton started to touch you, you really tried hard to be assertive like you used to be but he began to threaten you in a familiar soft and teasing tone but you knew he wasn't joking so you let him tug on your shirt and lean over the tub to kiss your skin.

it later moved to his bed where you could actually see his hard cock standing and throbbing against your fist and the way his stomach would tighten and his thighs would tense under soft lighting. you felt so disgusted but you still let it happen.

it wasn't a surprise when he popped the button on your pants and told you to sit on his cock to make him feel good. you couldn't hold back tears and you firmly said no. he sighed in slight annoyance because he didn't expect you to deny him anymore so he easily threatened to have your mother fired and assure that she would never work again.

you then climbed on top of him, wincing at the stretch and dryness of it all and anton just made you spit between your bodies to lubricate your movements as he guided you until your cunt began to leak around him and he laid back with a content and happy look on his face.

#tw dubcon #tw power imbalance #oops #i got carried away #this is hot #discography ! #feat. anton ! #anton x reader #anton smut #riize x reader #riize smut #riize hard hours #dark riize #dark anton #riize imagines #riize #anton

[cherryxblossxms]

Hear me out, professor Nanami but reader isn't attending any of his classes. He'd simply seen her on the campus, doesn't know her name, what she is studying, literally nothing and yet he's been having wet dreams and jerking of replaying those few times he'd seen her. He is desperate to corrupt her. You can add if they met or not or if anything happened between them or not but, if I came across professor Nanami I'd climb him like a koala bear and never let go

Oooh yes professor Nanami is always a yummy idea (I'm not doing any fic requests but I'm always happy to add to the thirst 💙 sorry anon). I'm not usually intrigued by corruption but I do go feral for Nanami

[Tw corruption or perhaps power play/power imbalance???? Idk, it gets filthy. She/her pronouns used. Ask to tag]

I can see it where he runs into reader at the campus coffee shop the very first time, she's laughing with her friends/classmates. She's talking about her classes, how she has a report to finish, how she can't wait for the semester to end. But he stopped listening long ago, simply enamored with watching and hearing her speak. He knows he's staring, bordering creepy, and has to tear his eyes away. But something about her just plagues his mind.

He hadn't seen her on campus before, she's not in his classes. Couldn't tell you what year she was in or what she was studying, admittedly he didn't catch what exactly her report was on. But after that first encounter, he keeps spotting her on campus here and there, like some kind of ghost haunting his mind. The longer he thinks and sees of her, the more he's obsessed.

Was she a good student, he wondered? Or maybe she needed some... discipline, to help her along? He'd be happy to help raise her grades, if she asked oh so nicely. On a Friday, the freedom of the weekend highly anticipated, he spotted her in a sinful little sundress, lips painted with a gorgeous cherry lipgloss, and for that entire weekend, all he could think of was having those same lips wrapped around his cock as he fucked his fist and milked his balls dry. He'd be willing to award some extra credit for that.

He briefly wondered if she was seeing anyone on campus, but that didn't really matter. None of those immature college boys had the experience that he had, could fuck her as thoroughly as he could. Or maybe she was even innocent, barely experienced. How he'd love to show her all that he knew, show her that sweet sensitive spot deep inside that her fingers can't quite reach, the noises she could make when she came on his tongue, or the way her toes would curl as he brought her to mind-numbing orgasm after mind-numbing orgasm on his dick.

He didn't even know her name but that didn't stop his imagination from running wild, envisioning her bent over his desk as he fucked her from behind, or watching his cum leak from her pussy onto the papers he was grading. He was in deep shit, being so obsessed with a student like that. But he just couldn't get her off his mind.

#tw corruption #tw power imbalance #nanami x reader #fem reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #nanami kento #nanami thirsts #˗ˏˋ꒰ minx replies ꒱

[ghost-party]

Previous || Masterlist || Next || AO3

Pairings: Sosuke Aizen x F!Reader, Kisuke Urahara x F!Reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: transactional relationship, sugar daddy arrangement, age difference, power imbalance, possessiveness, marking, collars, choking, oral sex (male receiving), teasing joke about pet play, alcohol, drunken behavior, tipsy reader, smoking, intimidation, manipulation

A/N: This chapter was so fun to write, mostly because I've been looking forward to Kisuke's introduction. 😁 IF YOU ARE A MINOR, DO NOT INTERACT!

“We’ve been invited to a Halloween party.”

You roll over onto your side, the sheets tangling around your legs as you look up at Sosuke. It’s a Sunday morning in late October, and the two of you have opted for indulgent laziness, lingering in bed long after waking.

He’s still reading his book, turning the page with a small flick of the wrist. “It’s an annual masquerade,” he explains. “Black tie.”

“Sounds like it could be fun,” you venture, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling yourself closer to him. As you rest your head on his hip, you can feel his body relax, as if your nearness calms him.

Reaching down, he slowly strokes your hair, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. And admittedly… I’d like to show you off.”

His eagerness to have you on his arm never fails to flatter you. Turning onto your back, you prop your head on his thigh and stare up at him, admiring his profile as he turns to take a sip of coffee.

“You said it’s annual. Do you go every year?”

At that, Sosuke’s expression changes. He frowns and sets his mug aside, his gaze almost distracted as he glances down at you.

“No. The host is… an old friend.” The smile he attempts better resembles a grimace. “We have something of a complicated history.”

Feeling both concerned and curious, you reach up, gently prying his book from his hands and setting it aside. “We don’t have to go.”

But even as you say it, you begin to connect what all he’s told you, and a look of understanding crosses your face.

“Is that why you want to show me off?”

To his credit, Sosuke makes no attempt to deny it. His fingers continue to thread through your hair, the possessive glint in his eyes by now familiar.

“Can you really blame me?”

He gives your hair a tug, enough to make you arch your neck. As he traces the marks he’s left there, he murmurs, “I’ve always taken a perverse pleasure in seeing others covet what’s mine.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you relish his touch, the lazy slowness of his fingertips gliding across your skin. “What makes you think he will?”

He falls silent for a long moment before quietly answering, “He and I are more alike than either of us would care to admit.”

With that, it seems your morning interlude has ended. Sosuke begins to shift beneath you, prompting you to sit up. When he disappears into the bathroom, headed for his closet, you collect the clothes you tossed over a nearby chair the night before. You perch at the end of the bed and wait for him, hugging your oversized turtleneck around yourself.

Normally, the two of you would spend the day together. But he informed you last night that he has lunch reservations with Gin and Kaname, followed by fencing practice. He’s increased his time at the club as of late, preparing for an upcoming tournament he plans to enter.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” he says, walking back into the bedroom. He’s chosen a midnight blue sweater with a collared shirt underneath, his pants neatly pressed. Although he’s wearing his glasses, you know his contacts are tucked away in the fencing bag slung over his shoulder.

“That’s kind of you, but I should head home.”

In truth, you suspect it would feel strange, inhabiting his space while he’s not around. If he were truly your boyfriend, maybe you would feel differently. But regardless, it’s been several days since you’ve been able to spend quality time in your apartment. You can catch up on laundry and handle other “life admin” tasks, as Rangiku so trendily calls them.

Sosuke walks you out, an easy quiet stretching between you until you reach the sidewalk in front of his building. His driver is already parked and waiting to take you home, while Gin’s now-familiar Porsche Panamera idles right behind it.

You can see the man in question sitting behind the wheel, smiling — always smiling. When he waves, stretching his arm out the window, you manage a half-hearted one in return.

Your attention is dragged away when Sosuke’s thumb and forefinger tip your chin up, prompting you to look at him. 

“Later this week, we’ll go shopping.”

The softness of his voice tells you he’s interpreted your discomfort as disappointment, assuming that you’re feeling reluctant to let him leave. “We’ll find something perfect for the party.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, allowing his nearness to calm you, just as yours does him. “Okay.”

“Ah… I almost forgot.”

Hefting the fencing bag a little higher on his broad shoulder, he reaches into his back pocket, retrieving his wallet. “I left my checkbook upstairs, but I have cash.”

It feels as if your stomach is twisting in on itself. Of course. He needs to pay you.

Because that’s all part of the arrangement, isn’t it? It’s easier to accept his checks and deposit them using your phone, the process so quick, you barely have to think about it. But having crisp bills pressed into your palm in broad daylight, in the middle of a sidewalk in one of the wealthier parts of the city… It feels wrong, like you should be embarrassed or ashamed.

He doesn’t seem to notice your shift in mood, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek before turning and walking away. Mechanically, you force yourself to slide into the backseat of his hired car, the driver already well aware of your destination. 

You know the only way things will ever change is if you talk to Sosuke. He’s always valued your honesty, the way you speak your mind around him, seemingly without hesitation.

This, however, is different. As you sit cross-legged on your couch that afternoon, folding a load of freshly-washed towels and barely paying attention to the midday news, you realize you’re afraid he’ll say no.

Maybe he likes things exactly the way they are now. He did tell you he doesn’t do committed relationships. But aren’t the two of you already committed, even in some capacity? Would it really change things that much to alter the terms of your arrangement and pursue something more emotionally satisfying?

Your gaze lingers on the stack of cash sitting at the corner of your coffee table — ten hundred-dollar bills — before your attention is drawn to the television.

They’re playing footage from a joint press conference held by the police department and the district attorney’s office. Having attended several of Rangiku’s work Christmas parties at her insistence, you recognize the DA, Jushiro Ukitake.

Despite his long white hair, tied neatly at the nape of his neck, you estimate he can’t be any older than 45. A soft-spoken man in private settings, he carries himself with stern professionalism when needed. And at this moment, it’s clear that he’s commanding attention with ease.

Standing beside him is another familiar figure, his hair just as white, though his gaze is hard and piercing rather than warm. Toshiro Hitsugaya, Rangiku’s boss and one of Ukitake’s ADAs. From what you’ve heard, he plans to run for district attorney in the next election, and Ukitake will give him his full endorsement.

Things seem to be wrapping up, with reporters still attempting to ask questions, even as both men join the police commissioner and exit the conference room. But the scrolling headline stretched across the bottom of the screen tells you everything you need to know.

ANNOUNCEMENT OF SPECIAL TASK FORCE, UKITAKE CRACKS DOWN ON ORGANIZED CRIME

This must be why Rangiku’s been so busy lately. You send her a text, asking if she wants to meet up later for drinks. Not expecting to hear back anytime soon, you busy yourself with putting laundry away and checking to see if there’s a yoga class you can drop in on.

You’re feeling restless, and you can’t exactly figure out why. Something about the news broadcast needles at you, like a thought that’s not fully formed, something half-conceived and impossible to articulate.

But you find yourself feeling more at ease when you check your phone, your other hand clumsily reaching for the yoga mat tucked away in the back of your closet, and see a photo from Sosuke.

He’s dressed all in white, his fencing jacket pristine, mask tucked under his arm. You can tell he’s fencing épée today rather than sabre, since he’s not wearing his lamé. Although you still consider yourself a fencing novice, listening to him speak about it at length has left you with working knowledge of the different weapons and their requisite equipment.

As you knew he would, he’s swapped his glasses for contacts, leaving his handsome face unobscured as he smiles into the mirror. While you’ve never been able to take a decent selfie that way, he looks like a model with his hair pushed back, his soft brown eyes seeming brighter under the fluorescents of the changing room.

I miss you. Dinner tonight?

You’re a little surprised, but at the same time, warmth blooms in your chest at the prospect of seeing him again so soon. 

A small part of you considers saying no and making him wait, exerting a little control. It’s not that you mind following Sosuke’s lead. More often than not, you’re happy to do so. But there’s a certain devious pleasure that comes from keeping him on his toes, and you suspect he enjoys playing the game.

That being said, after having to give up your time together earlier today, you can’t deny that you’re eager to see him. It is, at times, an uncomfortable truth: You’re greedy when it comes to him, his affection, his attention. He’s given you enough to make you crave more and more. 

Checking your inbox, you see that Rangiku still hasn’t responded. Even if she does and says she’s free, she’ll understand. She’s the one who’s encouraged you these past few months, after all. You feel reassured and excited as you type out a reply.

I’d love that. 😊

•••

Although you trusted Sosuke to help you choose an outfit that fit the requirements of the party, you’re beginning to wonder if it’s too much.

Much like the dress he selected for your outing to The Dark Room, this one skims along your body like a second skin, more structured in the bodice but flowing around your legs, aided by a rather scandalous slit. Paired with sheer, black thigh-high stockings and glossy black pumps, it makes you feel like a different person.

But the accessory that still has your face feeling hot, even as the car nears your destination, is a leather collar fastened around your neck.

When Sosuke came up behind you while you looked at yourself in the mirror, you glimpsed his smile first, the curl of his lips verging on wicked.

“I have something for you.”

Your own lips parted in surprise as he reached around you, guiding the soft, black leather around your throat. Once it was clasped at the back, you lifted your hand and gently touched it, tracing over the small, golden studs… and the small bell hanging perfectly in the center.

You weren’t entirely shocked. In the weeks since your first foray into more adventurous activities, Sosuke had you wear a collar several times. On an especially memorable occasion, he kept his fingers hooked around it, pulling it tight against your neck as you sucked his cock, all while he took a late-night work call.

But you hadn’t expected to be wearing one tonight.

“I thought it would be fitting,” he explained, reaching down and lifting your half-mask from the bathroom countertop.

Made of delicate black fabric with lace and gold lining, it curved up into two cat ears, a subtle touch. Sosuke’s mask, meanwhile, glinted with silver, its contours carved into the likeness of a wolf. 

“You really think of everything, don’t you?” you teased, your fingers still tracing along the leather.

“For purely selfish reasons,” he said, his large hands settling on your hips as he bent down. He gazed at the two of you in the mirror, looking pleased and prideful. “I wanted to see it on you. Now that I have, I’m inclined to never let you take it off.”

You kept your eyes on his reflection, even as you tilted your head and allowed your lips to brush against his neck as you asked, “What, do you want to keep me as your pet?”

A delicious darkness crept into his expression as his smile widened just a bit. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”

Now, he reaches for your hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze as the car passes through a set of wrought iron gates. You shoot him a grateful glance before your attention is diverted, the house ahead of you seeming to emerge from the surrounding trees.

Perhaps because of the sleek modernity of Sosuke’s apartment, you had expected a similar structure, a sprawling compound made of metal and glass. Instead, it’s a large, old house, well-maintained but by your guess, built at least a century ago.

As the car joins the line snaking around the circular drive, you continue to look. There are windows of all sizes, some with curtains drawn, while others glow with warm light. The black paint has begun to peel in places, only adding to the gothic feel of the manor, with its peaked roof, heavy stonework, and numerous arches.

“What do you think?” Sosuke asks, his tone mild and difficult to read. Even when you turn to look at him, his expression is frustratingly placid.

“It’s a little strange,” you admit, withholding the fact that you like that it has a distinct personality.

It becomes even more noticeable when the car finally stops and Sosuke comes to your door, taking your hand and helping you step out onto the paved path. To the right of the house is a small greenhouse, and even in the fading light, you can see that it’s nearly full to bursting with plant life. To the left is a separate building that resembles a barn, though more modular in shape. 

“Our host is an eclectic man,” Sosuke explains as you follow a few other couples inside.

His assessment is only confirmed as you wind your way through the house, taking notice of mismatched rugs, bookshelves that look ready to buckle, random sketches and unintelligible notes tacked to the walls in places.

Your fellow guests seem entertained by the chaos and clutter, almost as if it’s decorative — a mad scientist’s lair or an occultist’s abode. But something tells you none of it’s affected. Maybe it’s the abandoned, half-full cups of coffee, or the occasional singes in the wallpaper.

You half expect the ballroom to be in a similar state. And yet, it’s a gleaming gem in the midst of a labyrinth of oddities.

Golden chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling, and wide windows overlook the edge of the forest. You feel less self-conscious about your outfit as you look at the other guests, the lushness of fabrics, the extravagance of silk and velvet, the sparkle of embellishments.

A string quartet plays in the far corner, and buffet tables line the walls, laden with an expansive spread of appetizers, desserts, and drinks. An enormous punch bowl catches your eye, and you watch as a petite young woman with green hair pours herself a cup, sloshing it down the sides. With a huff, the burly man beside her steers her away, shaking his head in apparent exasperation.

Sosuke’s hand comes to rest on the small of your back. You’ve both slipped on your masks, and as you look up at him, the wolf’s profile strikes you, glimpses of sharp teeth visible along its jaws.

“I see a few familiar faces.”

“How can you tell?” You’re only half-teasing, genuinely wondering how he can pick out anyone in the crowd based on the lower half of their face alone.

He simply smiles and leads you towards a group of people who turn out to be new coworkers, employed by a company that his own recently acquired. The tension is thick, but Sosuke navigates it with enviable ease, parrying clumsy attempts at passive aggression with amused disdain.

The two of you move around the room, sipping champagne and tasting hors d'oeuvres whisked around on platters carried by masked waitstaff. You make polite conversation with senior executives and socialites, people who wouldn’t give you a second glance if they passed you on the street. 

Many of them fawn over Sosuke, recalling a luncheon they both attended or a conference at which he spoke. They shower him with compliments, seemingly in an effort to gain his favor. But when someone goes too far, entering his personal space or outright ignoring your presence, he responds with an iciness that makes them physically recoil.

As the night wears on, you notice a shift. Voices are growing louder as guests continue to imbibe. Ties are loosened, shawls and jackets are thrown over chairs, and masks grow crooked as movements become drunkenly inelegant. You notice couples exiting the room, looking for a private place to indulge. The music swells into something more passionate, or perhaps that’s just how it seems.

You’re feeling tipsy, light on your feet as you hover near the edge of the dance floor, watching your wolf stalk his latest prey. With an apology, Sosuke slipped away to speak with a friend of a friend who just so happens to have connections with a rival corporation.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised. But it feels like it’s been so long since he left you here, trying not to sway in your heels as you people-watch.

You’re draining the dregs of your fourth glass of champagne when you feel someone’s presence beside you. Turning to look, you nearly step back.

Rather than a half mask, this man wears a full mask, white and skull-like in its visage. Its teeth are bared in a grimace, deep ridges lining both cheeks. On either side of it, you can see straight blond hair cut in a straight line that sweeps just above the stranger’s chin, or where you suspect his chin is.

“H-hello,” you stammer, betraying how startled you are.

His laugh is muffled as he lifts his hand and removes the bone-white face, revealing a wide, toothy grin. “Scared ya, huh? You looked like you could use some company.”

You don’t want to assume he’s flirting with you, though it’s difficult to tell from his expression, along with his close proximity. Your eyes flit down to his clothes, a matching black jacket and slacks paired with a dark orange shirt. 

When you don’t answer, he drawls, “Then again, if you’re bored, maybe you should check out the library upstairs.”

Your brow furrows a little. “I don’t know if that’s allowed…”

His grin widens. “Trust me, our esteemed host won’t care. Hell, he’s not even here.” He gestures around the ballroom, and for the first time, you realize he’s right. 

You’ve met countless people, endured tedious conversations, and played the part of Sosuke’s arm candy with practiced patience. And yet, you would remember being introduced to the “eccentric” founder of this increasingly-debaucherous feast.

Before you can come up with a response, your mind feeling fuzzy thanks to the expensive champagne, the stranger winks and dons his mask, shoving his hands in his pockets before vanishing into the crowd.

You look around, trying to spot Sosuke. But it’s no use. Maybe he took his business to a quieter room. The more the idea sits with you, the better it sounds, to escape for a few minutes and savor the reprieve before returning to find him. If I run into him on my way there or back, even better.

The air immediately feels cooler when you exit the ballroom, your heels thudding on the hardwood floor. A few turns lead you to a spiral staircase, and, remembering the stranger’s words, you hike your dress up and climb to the second floor, every creak seeming louder in the newfound silence.

Removed from the incessant noise, you sigh with relief, walking slowly as you glance into the open rooms on either side of the hall. One reminds you of a laboratory, wall-mounted shelves laden with vials of various liquids. Another is a simple bedroom, the covers messy, a rumpled red tracksuit left on the floor next to a baseball cap.

The library, however, is unmistakable, a large space full of wooden shelves overflowing with leather-bound volumes and paperbacks of all sizes. There are even stacks of books on the floor, heavy tomes layered in dust. The air feels thick with quiet, settling around you like a blanket. When you draw in a breath, you smell leather, something earthy, and a faint hint of sweetness.

You slowly walk down the center of the room, noticing that each section features a label, written in the same haphazard scrawl as many of the notes you saw downstairs. Feeling a breeze, you give in to your curiosity and seek it out, finding a small reading area at the far end of the room. It’s furnished with old armchairs, a threadbare sofa, and a window seat.

The latter is where you find a man sprawled out, his long legs crossed at the ankles. The open window is right beside him, the cool night air ruffling his sandy hair. A thin haze of smoke hangs around him, a pipe lying forgotten on the wooden sill. When he turns to look at you, you see that his cheeks are lightly stubbled, his bangs long enough to hang over his eyes.

“Hey there, kitty.”

His voice has a subtle roughness to it, though it’s not as deep as Sosuke’s. Amusement curls around each word, and his smile seems genuine and relaxed, almost as if he’d been expecting you.

“Trying to escape?” he asks.

You shake your head, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be wandering around.”

The man tilts his head, resting it against the window jamb. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

You can’t explain why you’re so certain of it, but you reply, “Because you’re the owner of this house.”

He looks pleased by your deduction. “Very astute.” With a little groan, as if he hasn’t moved in a long while, he folds his legs beneath him. “Care to join me?”

Initially, you’re hesitant. What if Sosuke is looking for you? You don’t want to be gone too long. But it would be rude to decline your host’s offer. And besides, you’re undeniably curious about him.

“The host is… an old friend. We have something of a complicated history.”

Hoping to learn more about what Sosuke was referring to, you nod and take a seat, carefully arranging your dress so that its high slit doesn’t shift and reveal too much. Even so, it isn’t exactly comfortable, the boning of the corset pressing against your ribs. Around your throat, the collar feels suddenly heavy.

The man extends his hand, and you readily take it.

“Kisuke Urahara, awful host and notorious layabout.”

Your lips curl into a small smile as you tell him your name. “That first part might be true, but I somehow doubt the second. It was hard not to notice everything downstairs.”

“My perpetual mess?” 

Kisuke rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, and for the first time, you realize he’s not even dressed for a party. His dark green henley is wrinkled, and he’s wearing loose cotton pants that resemble pajamas. Seeming unbothered by the chill, his feet are bare, and he rakes a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead.

“People are always telling me to get a housekeeper. But I’d never put someone through the agony.”

Recalling some of the more complex notes, quickly-scrawled equations and what looked like sketches of molecular structures, you ask, “Are you a scientist?”

Kisuke hums. “Sort of? I like to tinker. I have what they call a restless mind.”

Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees, hands falling into his lap as he fixes you with a bemused stare. “It feels like you’re asking all the questions here. Is this an interrogation?”

“Aren’t cats curious by nature?” you easily counter, scooting further back onto the seat so that you can fully turn and face him.

“Until it kills them.”

There’s no threat in the way he says it, his tone light and playful. But even so, it makes you briefly hesitant, at least until the liquid courage of the champagne reminds you why you’re here.

“Do you know Sosuke Aizen?”

To your dismay, Kisuke’s expression betrays nothing, that same lazy smile stretched across his face. “Yeah, I do. We went to school together — even roomed together during grad school, in this shitty little apartment off campus.”

It’s jarring to imagine Sosuke, always so immaculate in how he presents himself, living in a place even smaller than yours, surviving on cheap ramen and all the other poor-college-student staples.

Seeming to read your mind, Kisuke says, “That was a long time ago. I doubt he enjoys reminiscing about it.”

Deciding to jump at the opening, you tell him, “He said the two of you have a ‘complicated history.’”

That earns you a reaction, albeit a small one. His mouth twitches slightly, and his green eyes narrow just a little. “Oh yeah?”

“What did he mean by that?”

In hindsight, you could have been more subtle — eased him into the conversation, asked some bland questions to throw him off, tried to prompt him to give you answers without directly seeking them out.

But Kisuke Urahara is far from stupid. What little you’ve seen of his “tinkering” tells you that much, as does his former friendship with someone like Sosuke.

“I’m surprised you’re asking me instead of him. You’re rather close, after all…”

Your breath catches in your throat when he reaches out and uses his forefinger to flick the tiny bell hanging just above the notch at the base of your throat. It jingles softly.

“You might be wondering why I throw this party every year but never make a point of showing up,” he says, changing the subject with ease. “I’m less interested in socializing than I am in taking advantage of my guests’ loose lips.”

When your brow furrows, he continues, “It’s a perfect opportunity to collect information.”

“You mean blackmail.”

He shrugs. “It’s only blackmail if you use the threat of its release to your advantage. I’m simply a collector.” 

He lifts his hand again, this time using the lightest touch to trace the outline of one of your mask’s pointed ears. “Curious, even.”

“Some might say devious,” you counter.

Kisuke chuckles. “You’re one to talk, with the company you keep.”

Your reply goes unspoken as you watch his expression change, suddenly growing serious. Leaning forward even more, his voice drops to a low murmur.

“Be careful.”

“Why should she be?”

You quickly turn and see that Gin is leaning against the nearest bookshelf, his thin smile wide.

A mask carelessly hangs from one finger, its pale green scales glinting in the sparse light cast by nearby lamps. His silver suit matches his hair, though it contrasts with the black shirt he wears underneath.

Kisuke sits back, the picture of leisure as he turns his lazy smile towards Gin.

“The punch has a tendency of getting more lethal as the night goes on. One of the hazards of a good party.”

“Quite an assumption for a man who can never be bothered to attend.” Looking at you, his gaze narrowed, Gin says, “Sosuke’s been looking for you.”

The words almost slither under your skin, the implied questions enough to make you worry.

Why did you leave?

Where have you been?

What are you doing with Kisuke Urahara?

You stand up so fast, you wobble a little on your heels, and you feel something warm settle on your lower back — Kisuke’s hand, fingers splayed, palm flattened against the gentle curve of your body.

“Easy there, kitty,” he murmurs, and when you glance back at him, you see that his bangs have fallen back over his face, his green eyes bright with something you can’t quite name.

“So considerate.” Gin’s tone is mock surprised as you step away from Kisuke and slowly walk towards him. “Have you always been this kind?”

Kisuke shrugs and picks up his pipe, stretching his legs out once more. “What can I say? I’ve always had a soft spot for cats.”

Gin is silent as he leads you out of the library and back downstairs, his gait relaxed. It’s only when the two of you reach the staircase landing that he abruptly turns, taking a step towards you. You instinctively move back, pressing yourself against the wall.

“Let me give you some advice,” he says, cheerful as ever, even as he leans in closer, casting deep shadows around you.

“Stay away from Kisuke Urahara.”

You blink up at him, tongue-tied for a moment before you finally ask, “Why?”

The twist of Gin’s mouth makes fear spike low in your gut. “Because Sosuke doesn’t like sharing. Especially not with him.”

“I wasn’t —”

“Is there a problem?”

When Gin turns to look down the stairs, he moves just enough to clear your line of sight. Arms crossed, the masked stranger from earlier stands with one foot on the bottom step. His face is bare, mouth curved into a pronounced scowl.

Beside him is a man you saw earlier tonight, dragging a pouting girl away from the punch. His muscles strain the sleeves of his dark blue jacket, and his white hair is cut into a shaggy mohawk.

“Not at all,” Gin answers, spreading his hands in an innocent gesture. “We were just having a private conversation. Is that not allowed?”

“You’re an awful liar, Ichimaru.”

Gin offers you his arm, and you numbly take it, too shocked to do anything else. As the two of you descend the stairs, he airily replies, “What an ugly accusation, to say that I’m lying.”

When you reach the bottom, the rangy blond steps back, his gaze flickering back and forth between you and Gin.

“Besides, even if I were lying,” your companion drawls, tilting his head in a condescending manner, “I’d be superb at it.”

The taller of the two men opposite you jerks his thumb in the direction of the front door. “Better get moving. Your owner doesn’t strike me as the type to put much slack in your leash.”

Gin ignores the obvious bait and steers you away, his expression unchanged despite the confrontation.

“Who are they? Those men?”

You half expect him not to answer. But instead, he says, “Friends of Kisuke. Unpleasant, aren’t they?” He leads you through the living room and into the entryway. “Kaname always criticizes my manners, but at least I make an attempt…”

As he reaches for the door, a breath away from opening it, his voice lowers to a murmur.

“Don’t forget my advice. I’m sure you’ve figured out that Sosuke’s a possessive man.”

He turns to meet your gaze, and the fear you felt before responds in kind, a cold dread settling over you.

“And I suspect he has no intention of letting you go.”

#desperate measures #bleach #sosuke aizen #aizen x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen sosuke #aizen sosuke x reader #kisuke urahara #urahara x reader #kisuke urahara x reader #urahara kisuke #urahara kisuke x reader #tw sugar daddy #tw age difference #tw power imbalance

[albaedough]

Woven Secrets

GENSHIN IMPACT Character x Fem!Reader Smut Stories

Word count: 3.8k+

Characters: Pantalone and Childe

Pairings: DaddyDom!Pantalone x AbyssPrincess!Reader x Master!Childe

Warnings: ⚠️ MDNI 18+ ONLY ⚠️ DD/LG, Princess play, oral(giving and receiving), creampie, double facial, threesome, multiple orgasms, masturbation, public sex, exhibitionism, squirting, fingering, power play, voyeurism, sub/dom dynamics, penetration, choking

Taglist: @stygianoir @silverwritesthings

Special thanks to Silver for bouncing ideas back and forth with me and providing some awesome quotes!

Click below for more~

Pantalone/ Childe

"Princess—," 

A familiar voice calls as you peek up from the solace of your blankets with a sleepy yawn, hair disheveled and sleep still lingering in your eyes. 

"Come now, let me help pick you out something to wear, or we'll be late for Daddy's meeting," the voice continues, pulling back the curtains to allow a beam of sunlight to shine into the room as you squint. 

Eyes adjusting, you're met with the gentle expression of Pantalone, who now strides over to you to sit on the side of the bed as you beam at him, "Daddy~! I had so many good dreams of you that I didn't even want to wake up," you explain, pouting, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Is that so~?" Pantalone chuckles, "Well, I'm pleased to hear that, but we really must be getting ready, come on, up you go," he says gently, swiftly picking you up in his arms and carrying you to the entrance of the wardrobe, then promptly putting you down, "Tell me, Princess, what color would you like to wear today?" 

"Pink! With lots of lace~!" you say, bubbling over with excitement at the thought of being adorned with soft pink silks and beautifully crafted lace, "And bows!" you add, picturing your dream outfit as if it was already on your petite frame.

"Oh, my precious Doll. Daddy has just the dress for you. You'll look stunning when I'm finished dressing you," Pantalone says gently, a small smile appearing across his lips as he looks down at you. Opening up the wardrobe, Pantalone rummages through the bountiful closet, pulling out the dress of your dreams. 

Eyes growing wide, you study the fine detail on the dress. A soft pink dress made of silk with golden detailing hung out in front of you. Taking hold of it, you notice how heavy it is due to the many petticoats, but upon further inspection, it was adorned with lace around the sleeves and collar, and placed directly in the back was a large bow. Giving an excited squeal, you lunge toward Pantalone as he catches you by your waist, "It's perfect~ Just what I wanted, Daddy," you state proudly, kissing Pantalone on the cheek softly. 

"Good, this one was a gift from young Master Childe, and we'll see him today. I'm sure he will be pleased," Pantalone says with a smile, and you freeze for a moment. 

Your Master, Childe, could be a tad harsher than Pantalone, yet, you didn't mind his advances or harsh words; after all, you were their toy. A plaything of sorts, one they can doll up and tease relentlessly any time they desire. Yet, Pantalone always ensures you are comfortable, for you are his precious Princess. 

"Master will be there too?!" you say, eyes twinkling, "C-can you make me extra pretty?" you ask sweetly, wanting to impress your young Master. 

"Princess, you are already stunning," Pantalone explains, pulling your night dress up over your head, "Just look at you~," he coos, guiding you toward the mirror, your bare body staring back at you. You blush deeply, covering yourself up, "Don't cover yourself up, Darling. Let me take a good look at you," Pantalone continues; a glint of hunger flashes across his eyes as he licks his lips.

"Yes, Daddy…" you say, dejected, slowly removing your arms and placing them at your side. 

Coming from behind you, Pantalone wraps one of his arms around you, grasping your chin, so you face toward the mirror, "Simply astounding, Princess," he murmurs, licking his lips, "Princess, must you always look so appetizing?" Pantalone persists, and you blush heavily, avoiding his eye contact, "I must say, Daddy knows just how you can please him today, but not now; we must get you dressed."

—--------------

Getting ready was no easy feat as you whine when he brushes through your hair to style it. With simple words of affirmation, Pantalone finally calms you down as he puts the final touches on your look. Standing proud beside you, he gives you a knowing look that his work here is done. 

Dolled up in what could only be a dress made for a Princess, you beam at him, giving him a twirl, "I feel so pretty, Daddy! Thank you so much~," you say, clasping your hands together happily. 

"As you should, Princess," he says, smiling, "Now, let's be off, shall we?" Pantalone extends his arm for you to grab on, and you nod.

The walk to the meeting hall was lively as your small heels clicked happily along the grand marble flooring as you chirped and hummed along, admiring your pretty dress along the way. When the two of you arrive, you're greeted by ten familiar figures, and suddenly, your chest becomes tight until you see a friendly firey orange-haired young man with playful sapphire eyes. Smiling sweetly at him, you curtsy adorably, "Greetings to the Harbingers, loyal and true to the Tsaritsa," you say, the young Master giving you the courage you needed to greet the others. 

"You may rise, Princess," a tall man with half a mask says, approaching the two of you, who is none other than Pierro, The Joker. He bows swiftly at your presence, and you take a step back to hide behind Pantalone, who gently squeezes your hand protectively, assuring you that everything will be okay.

"Now that we are all accounted for, take your seats and let the meeting commence," Pierro states, leading everyone into the grand meeting room. 

You take your seat upon Pantalone's lap, your favorite place to sit, and claiming a seat next to you is Childe, who grins at you mischievously. You smile sweetly at him and giggle, leaning toward him, "Hello, Master~ I wore this dress just for you," you whisper in his ear.

Pantalone, not liking the attention you were providing Childe, he squeezes your hips to keep you still as you wriggle uncomfortably on his lap, grazing his clothed manhood with your bare ass. He hitches in a breath, loving the thought of you not wearing any undergarments, "You must be quiet, Princess. The meeting is starting," he says, delivering Childe a slight glare. 

"As you all were made aware, there have been recent sightings of Treasure Hoarders attacking unarmed caravans," Pierro starts, folding his hands under his chin, "We must get to the bottom of this as they're targeting ones we have been. These materials they're stealing are detrimental to the success of the Tsaritsa. I suspect someone has been leaking information to them."

Getting antsy and drowning out the meeting, you adjust your hips once more, and Pantalone lets out a very quiet groan in your ear, and you perk up, starting to feel his hardened cock across your thigh. Covering your mouth so you wouldn't gasp, you blush furiously, "Princess; you're making Daddy very hard. ." he murmurs in your ear. 

"I-I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to," you whisper back, catching the eye of Pierro, who clears his throat and continues his discussion.

In the meantime, Pantalone grabs hold of your inner thigh underneath your dress, gently trailing his fingers across your delicate skin, causing you to make a flustered facial expression. You feel him smirking behind you, "D-daddy. ." You whine quietly, feeling your gut clench from excitement.

"Princess," Pierro's sudden voice rang through the meeting hall, causing you to flinch, "If you cannot behave, I must ask you to return to your quarters."

"My apologies, 1st," Pantalone says, "I'll be sure to keep her in check," he continues, his fingers persisting to trail upwards, lingering just shy of your wet folds, and you whimper, nodding in agreement, "Say you're sorry, Princess."

"My sincerest apologies, my Lord; I'll be a good girl," you say with a bow of your head, squirming your hips against Pantalone's dick in return, excited for more.

And lifting you briefly, Pantalone slams you back down, keeping you pinned against him, "Take Daddy's cock out for him, will you?" he says quietly, pressing his lips against your ear. 

You comply, not wanting to cause any more disturbances, subtly reaching below the table to hoist up your skirt, doing quick work to release his twitching cock, and it's fast to find itself between your thighs as it rests against your slick cunt. Pushing your hips forward, you want to whimper, but stop yourself. 

Slowly Pantalone guides his dick into your hole, and you cover your mouth as you feel the presence of his cock insert your cunt, "Best be quiet, Princess. Daddy doesn't want to get caught," Pantalone murmurs against your ear and, with a smirk, thrusts his hips into you gently, causing you to bite your lip with pleasure, wanting so badly to call out his name.

Childe, taking notice of your facial expressions, lets out a quiet chuckle, knowing precisely what's happening. And leaning toward Pantalone, he whispers something into Pantalone's ear, and Pantalone nods.

Suddenly you feel Childe's firm grip upon your thigh, and you look toward him with a confused expression, and he winks at you, smirking mischievously. Between Pantalone's gentle thrusts and Childe's grip, you want to scream. Slowly Childe's hand trails toward your clit, flicking it roughly, and you let out a tiny squeak, promptly covering your mouth, hoping no one else heard you. 

Once you realize no one paid any mind, you start to grind your hips to the rhythm of Pantalone's thrusts, feeling his cock twitch inside of you; you spread your legs further apart, giving Childe more room to ruthlessly tease your clit. Needing so badly to cry out, your breathing becomes shallow, and feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head, you close your eyes to cover up your pleasure. 

As Pierro continues the conference, the other Harbingers give their takes; all the while, Pantalone calmly lifts your hips up and roughly pushes them back down while Childe twists and flicks at your clit, over and over again.

"D-Daddy, Mas-master, I-I can't take it anymore," you manage to say quietly between heavy breaths as you continually ride Pantalone's dick. You were indebted to the dress you were wearing. Otherwise, you were sure you'd get caught.

"Easy now, Doll, you're doing so well. Remember, you can't let anyone hear you~," Childe coos quietly into your ear.

"11th. Must I ask you to leave as well?" Pierro barks; now all attention is on the three of you.

"Oh, no. Not at all~! I was just telling the Princess here that the meeting is almost over, that's all. Besides, she's looking a little antsy, no?" Childe says with a grin, his fingers continuing to run circles around your clit as you squirm.

The bastard.

And leaning toward you, Childe places a gentle kiss on your cheek and, pulling away; he gives you a knowing smile, "Yes, your Lordship, what Master Childe says is the truth," you say, trying to keep your voice steady as you bounce up and down on Pantalone's dick, all the Harbingers now looking directly at you, taking notice of your squirming as they give you a quizzical look, "I-I'm just tired is all," you state, your voice faltering.

"Very well. We'll wrap this up; the meeting is adjourned!" Pierro proclaims as the Harbingers scatter, but Pierro stays behind, "I trust the Princess will be better behaved next time, 9th; she is under your care after all," he says, placing a rough hand on Pantalone's shoulder.

"She shall get proper punishment; I assure you, 1st," Pantalone smiles as Pierro leaves the room, leaving you, Childe, and Pantalone alone. 

And finally, a moan escapes your pretty lips, "D-Daddy, Master. . .please," you plead with a willingness.

"Yes, Princess?" they both say, hunger in their voice. 

"F-fuck me good~," you murmur, and that was all Pantalone needed to lift you off his cock and place you onto the table, spreading your legs wide and hitching up your dress to expose your sensitive, raw cunt. 

"Young Master Childe has been waiting patiently for you; why don't you please him next, Princess?" Pantalone speaks, his cock still throbbing for more, but he has other plans to take care of it, "I've prepped you long enough~," he coos, moving a strand of hair from your face and behind your ear as you nuzzle into the warmth of his hand.

"Yes, Daddy~, anything for you or Master," you say eagerly, lifting your dress even further so Childe can get a good look at you.

Smiling, obviously pleased at the state of your cunt, Childe cuts in between you and Pantalone, aligning himself with your folds as he takes out his massive cock, "Be a good little Doll and scream out my name," he insists, slowly pushing in the tip of his girth, and you squeal.

While adjusting to the thickness of Childe's dick Pantalone gets onto the table on his knees, his cock still hard from the previous ordeal, and he positions himself close to your mouth, 

"You'll suck Daddy's cock, won't you, Princess?" he asks sweetly, his voice dripping like honey.

"A-ah~, M-master!" you call out toward Childe, who now picks up his pace, groaning. And nodding toward Pantalone, you eagerly wrap your hand around his cock and start making circles around the tip of his head with your tongue, tasting the mildly salty flavor of his precum and your own slick. Bobbing your head up and down on his shaft, Pantalone grabs your hair, gently pulling on it, and you moan onto his cock, causing vibrations, and he groans.

"F-fuck, Doll. I hate to interrupt, but your pussy is so tight for your Master~," Childe coos, thrusting his hips roughly into you, and Pantalone shoots him a glare.

"Don't you dare cum in my Princess' cunt or make them take that low-quality semen of yours, 11th," Pantalone seethes with a groan as you continue sucking and moaning on his cock. 

Yet unbeknownst to you, Childe was tipping over the edge from how tight you are for him, your walls clenching around his girth perfectly, as if your wet cunt was explicitly made for him, and it drove him crazy. Digging his fingers deeper into your hips, he pulls you closer to him roughly, and his hot cum spills all over your insides as you cry out onto Pantalone's dick. 

In a relaxed fit of rage, Pantalone lunges toward Childe, grabbing hold of his neck, and Childe lets out a pleasurable moan as Pantalone glares daggers at him.

Putting up his hands in defeat, he pulls his cock out of you as his cum dribbles out. With his finger, Childe shoves it back in with a smirk, "C'mon; I didn't mean it~!" he says sheepishly, continuing to thrust his fingers in and out of you, "Our little Princess just felt so good~!" he coos, allowing Pantalone to squeeze his neck harder as he lets another moan escape his lips, his cock twitching.

"I'll make you beg you never said that," Pantalone says with a menacing smile as he removes a bundle of rope from his coat, "Pardon me, Princess. I must tie this menace up for defiling you like that," he says sweetly, leaning down to kiss your forehead and removing his cock from your mouth, a strand of your saliva hanging from it. 

And hopping down from the table, Pantalone pushes Childe onto the chair, grabbing his cock and twisting it, making Childe crumble and submit as another heavenly groan escapes Childe's quivering lips, "S-sir~! Please don't be so vicious; you know I can't resist our Princess…or you for that matter!" Childe confesses with a grin, yet Pantalone disregards him, slapping his cock away from his hand in disgust, quickly tying him up, much to Childe's protests. 

"Now, Princess—, be an excellent little Doll for Daddy and make Master Tartaglia want what he can't have," Pantalone says, a ravenous glint in his eyes as he smiles sweetly at you, "Spread your legs back open, Darling," he continues. You succumb, spreading your legs wide, so your slick wet cunt is in clear view of Childe, "That's my girl, now touch yourself. Make yourself feel good for me."

"Yes, Daddy~" you coo, still riding out your own pleasurable high as you reach for your womanhood with your dainty fingers, gently starting to stroke yourself, "Daddy says you've been naughty, Master~," you say, small moans escaping your lips as you put on a show for them. 

Childe licks his lips hungrily, "Oh fuck yeah, baby, if only I could stuff my face with your pussy!" he declares, a ravenous smile playing on his lips. 

Ignoring Childe's pitiful attempts at begging, Pantalone turns to you and smiles, "That's it, Princess. . .you're doing so well~! Do you want Daddy's help?" he coos happily, obviously pleased with the show you're putting on. 

"Please, D-daddy, m-make me feel good~," you beg between breathless moans, inserting a finger into your hole.

"Gladly," Pantalone murmurs as he steps in front of you, blocking Childe's view, "Let's give him what he can't have~," he continues, getting back down on his knees, pushing your legs further apart, "Remove your precious fingers, Princess. Daddy will take care of you from here."

And doing as he says, you remove your fingers as Pantalone gives a long slow lick to your cunt, "A-ah~!" you gasp at the gentle touch of his tongue as it flicks against your clit, causing you to shudder, biting down on your knuckle. 

Pantalone digs his fingers into your thighs, his tongue giving special attention to your clit before shoving his tongue into your cunt, lapping up your juices eagerly. Using his thumb, he stimulates your raw clit, with gentle circular motions, and you groan, toes curling in delight as your hands find his head and entangle in his hair.

"Fuck me," Childe groans, struggling with the tightness of the ropes that bound him. His cock twitches at the sight before him, and he can feel himself tipping over the edge again, "M-more. Show me more. S-sir~ Please," Childe begs.

Pulling away from your dripping cunt, Pantalone sighs, "Do you truly want a taste of our beloved Princess?" and Childe nods eagerly in response, and getting up, much to your dismay, Pantalone calmly walks over to Childe, "I suppose I'll forgive you, here's your reward, young Master Tartaglia," Pantalone says mischievously, leaning down and sealing his lips against Childe's, pushing his tongue through Childe's parted lips.

Eagerly accepting Pantalone, his tongue wraps around his as he tastes a familiar sweet but bitter flavor, and Childe's cock can't stop twitching as he groans into the kiss. And pulling away, Childe beams, "Goodness, Princess~ You taste sooo good!" he coos affectionately, "Thank you for indulging me, Sir~," he says happily.

"Dadddyy~," you whine, ignoring Childe's praises, "What about my kisses?" you ask innocently, tilting your head to the side adorably. 

"Goodness me, Darling. Daddy didn't forget about you, don't you fret," Pantalone says, turning to face you. He leans down, gently kissing your lips, pushing his tongue past your parted lips, and you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back thoroughly.

You're first to pull away, and you turn to stick your tongue out at Childe, who simply grins at you, "Shall we make our Princess cum?" Childe chirps up.

"You mean I," Pantalone states, now flipping you over on your stomach with a gentle thud, much to your surprise. And aligning his cock with your folds, he slides it in with ease as you groan, "After all, I'm the one who isn't tied up right now~," he jests awfully.

"M-master~ Daddy's cock feels so good," you tease, little moans fleeing your lips, wriggling your hips to take the entire length of his girth. Not as large as Tartaglia's, Pantalone's cock still did its job at hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, your cries starting to echo throughout the meeting hall, "Y-yes—yes! Ooh, Daddyy~,"  you whimper under him pitifully.

"That's right, Princess, you're so tight for me," Pantalone says between gasps of pleasure. Clutching onto your hips, his thrusts are more brutal and faster, and you begin to squeal as your eyes roll to the back of your head, "Good girl, tell Daddy and Master how much you love my cock!"

"I-I love it, D-daddy~," you coo in exhilaration as Pantalone continues to pound into your soaking cunt, his balls hitting your clit just right, and feeling your toes beginning to curl, you can't seem to hold back any longer, "I-I'M GONNA C-CUM~," you scream delightfully.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair Pantalone tugs your head back roughly, "Be as loud as you want, Darling. . . It doesn't matter if others hear. They'll just have to accept that they'll never have you," he states, shooting a glare in Childe's direction who had somehow freed one of his hands and is stroking his cock to this pleasing sight.

Your moans grow louder as he grabs hold of your hair, and, with one final thrust, your walls burst as your cum comes squirting out all over his cock and onto his pants. Pantalone groans at the clenching of your walls and the fact you had left a stain upon his pants, but before he cums, he pulls out abruptly, "Turn around for me, Princess~, let me paint your beautiful face," he coos, stroking his cock with his hand, nearing his edge.

"Anything for you, Daddy, but you must show Master too. Otherwise, he'll feel left out~!" you say adorably, turning around, facing Pantalone's manhood.

"Our Princess is so kind~," Childe says happily, now entirely freeing himself from his restraints as he stands next to Pantalone with a smug grin, "Let us cum on her face, shall we, 9th?" and you blink at them with your big doe eyes.

"Fine, I suppose I'll accept this time, " Pantalone complains as Childe positions his cock to your face.

But you had other plans for them; taking both cocks with each hand, you begin jacking them off slowly, peppering each one with slow sensual kisses and taking turns sucking them both off. Your tongue trails delicately over their girths as they moan together, "H-hng, P-Princess~," they say, breathless. You now have them at your mercy as you show them what a good girl you are, taking their cocks simultaneously. 

Not being able to contain themselves any longer, their cocks start twitching in your hands, and you pull away from them as their hot seed splatters all over your adorable expression. Licking your lips, all you can taste is salt and bitterness, but to you, it wasn't bad, so you beam up at them, "Daddy and Master taste so yummy~," you babble happily, your face showing how high you are off of lust. 

"Well done, Princess~," they both chime in joyfully, pulling you up to a comfortable position, and you comply, their cum still dripping down your face, and they each pull you into a sweet kiss. Childe's being rough and hungry for more, while Pantalone's kiss left you wanting more short, sweet ones as you melt into each loving kiss. 

This will be my own woven secret; you think to yourself as each of the young men before you place gentle kisses on each of your hands at a job well done, "Remember Princess, the best kept secrets are woven like lace."

End

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