love how solid, unglamorous, utilitarian, and brutalist the rondel dagger is in the wider realm of daggers. Flat top because you need something to punch while you hammer the blade through steel. Rarely bears a sharpened edge because this is a weapon meant to puncture and wedge through gaps. It’s a basically a dressed-up railroad nail that rips through chain mail like cotton. It’s most useful in close combat when swords become cumbersome and a wrestling match needs to end in blood. We don’t need to use the term phallic okay cut to the chase that thing is a cock.
"how about I show you my Devotion for once", she says, and for the first time ever, your liege kneels in the dust and dirt - a spot usually reserved for you - kissing the hilt of your sword. before you can say anything, the words get stuck in your throat, and she draws your sword from its sheath, slowly. she plants a kiss on the blade which has drawn blood from so many in her honor, again and again and again, until she reaches the very tip. and yet she looks at you from down below, her eyes not wilting away from your disheveled gaze.
Gunplay, but not as a fear thing or a threat. More like fucking the hilt of a sword, but sideways and with more dieselpunk than the regency vibes – to recognize the weapon as both extension of your protector/hired killer/dog's power and their greatest fear, now operating on a hair-trigger. A sword is dangerous, is in fact the epitome and epaulet of danger even still, but it's intimate. The tool of your subjugation is itself subjugated, nestling so trustingly into the hand you choke it with; it will not move or flinch or kill unless you do. (Though it remains stiff and immaculate regardless of your will as any other's, the weapon inside you you will never be able to fully put down, only sheathe and garb in any softness that will hide it while you pretend you're not a killer.) When your partner stabs themself through on it, makes a stigmata of themself, they invite a dripping penetration, sympathetic reaction, to invoke the full metonymy of you-and/as-sword – you cannot harm them any more than they have decided to wound themself on you. The sword – forgive the obvious – pierces. In subjecting oneself to it, in being subjected to its length, it bypasses the protection of the rib, the sheath, to lance your arm through a body's core.
A gun is not so trained. Domesticated, perhaps – a thing without so noble a legacy; a tool meant solely for explosive, gory violence, brought in like a barncat, not into the house or household but maybe (if it's lucky) to the mantle. A gun, a gunner, operates at a remove: you press the trigger, projectile-pass the distance, watch the ruined target smoke. Even at its most passive, to wound its wielder is no mere love bite or training flaw; you cannot sync into a gun, tame it, become its extension and fuel of soul the way you can a sword. The caustic thing bites, all kickback and burns. You have to treat it like... well, a loaded gun. All bullets removed, absent wielder and finger on the trigger both, you'd still be horrified to catch your partner making out with the muzzle. There is no precaution you or either of you could take to make this (to make you) safe. So when they meet you staring them down with cold eyes and weapon drawn and sink to their knees to take the barrel on their tongue, when they rub their legs together after a particularly ruthless shot or when you catch them oiling the mechanism with more rutting through their fist than strictly necessary... That's control, isn't it? You have to be able to count each and every bullet, know the trigger's kinks more intimately than any of your own, keep iron grip on weapon-room-victim so the only messiness when you bring the hammer down is what's running down their thighs. It's for their own good that your hand pulls taut in their hair, leather palms and bare fingers forcing them down the barrel to ensure there's no deviation from your will. And that's trust – not only in your stay of fire, but your skill. That that weapon, all its wildness, will never do anything more or less than what you tell it to. That you, in all your wildness, would never do anything to hurt them – not on accident.
That, while you could do it on purpose... you won't.
Info - mafia au, regulus main dom, blood kink, blood tasting, anal with an object, weapon kink, knife kink, cnc, dubcon, arranged marriage, biting clit, mention of killing and blood, non magic au, mention of torture, use of a gun, oral with an object, mutual blood kink, leaving during orgasm, dangerous sex, threats of death, virgin reader, unprotected sex, mild breeding kink, some praise, expectation of an heir, mention of strip search, trying to stay silent during sex, ass play, oral (fem receive g)
I stood before the leader of the Black Family Mafia. Regulus Black was the most notorious leader since Slytherin himself. There were many families in the Slytherin Mafia, the Lestranges, the Malfoys, the Yaxleys and so on. But Regulus was known for his unhinged behavior and violence. He wanted to be the top, no matter what it took, and that was why he now had me.
He hadn’t like that my family had been rising in the ranks. We’d taken a more silent approach since the Slytherin families were usually at odds with those of the Gryffindor line. Weasleys, Potters, and so forth. When Regulus’s brother had run away; and he had become heir to the business and fortune of the men before him, everyone expected him to go right for the throats of the children of the lion. But Regulus was cunning. I believed he’d had an eye on my family for a long time now.
We’d moved in shadows and whispers. We’d hoped that we’d usurp the crown without the others even notice their reign was over until it was. He’d noticed. This was why when he’d been instated he’d gone after us with a mercilessness that had been seen before.
I had made the ultimate sacrifice. The Ravenclaw Princess, sold to the Slytherin Prince. The wedding had not yet happened, and I knew he’d want to test me first. I knew also that I’d be expected to produce an heir quickly. The intertwining of our bloodlines had never been done like this.
“You know why you are here?” Regulus asked in a posh voice. He sounded royal.
I inclined my head. I was determined to make no sound as this happened. He would not break me. He would take my body, but not my voice.
Regulus sneered as my lack of noise. He pulled a hand gun from his belt. I was sure many other weapons were hidden on his person. I had been stripped and searched before a plain black dress had been thrown over my head. I was defenceless. My only hope was to rely on the card Regulus had already shown. Why would he have so relentlessly pursued us, then offered the bond of marriage if this was not what he wanted. He wanted me, me specifically. It was a little heady and a little attractive to be wanted so fiercely. But what did I know? I was the daughter of a crime lord.
“What is that?” I almost asked in confusion as he pulled out a small bottle from his pocket. Did he mean to drug me? Instead of speaking I stood very still. I’d trained to resist and even become immune to poisons. God knew what the Blacks had access to though.
“This is my favourite gun,” Regulus’s voice was different now. It was more of a drawl or a hiss. It didn’t seem to be his mob king voice. Perhaps this was the demon he turned into when he tortured those souls he kidnapped. Perhaps this was the Lord of torment as those who escaped had called him. They dreaded even calling him his real name, though everyone knew it.
“Say hi,” he demanded. With a swift movement he clicked off the safety and held the gun inches from my nose.
I gulped but said nothing. I lifted a lazy hand and gave a nonchalant wave. This seemed to infuriate him. The barrel was shoved further so that it knocked against my teeth.
“If you don’t want to talk princess,” he purred, green eyes glittering like his many rings. “Then suck like you’re a slut, and this is the best dick you’ve ever had.”
I was shocked at his words. I hadn’t expected this in the least, but I was determined to not give him my voice. My mouth circled around the gun. I let my tongue become a slippery road way. I bobbed on the instrument of death until my puffy lips touched his finger on the trigger.
“There she is,” he chuckled. “That’s a very good girl for me. My wife should have these skills of course. Fuck, you look like such a huge slut sucking off my gun.”
I continued to swirl my tongue and give him the show he wanted. My saliva began to slide down my chin. I noticed that his hand had moved down to his crotch. He was unashamedly rubbing his bulge over his pants. His audacity appalled me and yet…
“That’s enough,” he said abruptly and pulled the gun away. For some reason I missed his dark gaze and the fullness of my mouth.
“Such an innocent supple body, yet it has done so much damage,” he whispered in my ear as he massaged my breasts. He tweaked my nipple. Again I almost failed in staying quiet. My body was melting to his touch and I was getting wet.
He was right. I had killed many people. I had ruined families and lives, and he did not cringe from me. He knew my skin had often been blood stained and he still touched me with lust. For once, I was not being bowed to in a room of men who feared my father. Here was a man who knew what it was to feel the burden of a weapon in your hand and a goal in your mind.
“I’ve heard from some that you are a virgin,” he murmured before biting gently at my ear. I couldn’t help the sigh that left my mouth. I felt him smile against the cartilage he held between his teeth.
“We’ll have to prepare you,” he said more sternly.
He was back in front of me in moments. He poured from the bottle into his hand. I watched as he mixed my drool with this substance on the barrel of the gun. Lube, it was lube. I shuddered at the thought of what he might do.
“I do need to warm you up,” he commented. “Seeing as foreplay is a must have for someone as unused to sex as you. However, my wife, must be able to do extraordinary things.”
With these words he was behind me again. He began to slowly inch the barrel into my ass. He chuckled as I made light whimpering sound. I was being stretched around his favourite weapon. I panted as he filled me to the hilt.
“That’s it Princess, you took the whole thing,” he chuckled. He slapped a hand over my mouth.
“You wanted to stay quiet right?” He asked. I didn’t know how he’d known. “You won’t be able to by the end of this.”
His deft fingers fondled my bundle of nerves. My body buzzed with lust as my tight hole undulated around the gun. He was soft as first, massaging my clit. Soon he sped up, using four fingers to press and knead.
I feel drool collect in my mouth as my eyes rolled back in my head from the pleasure. It was like the rest of my body’s reactions were doubled since I refused to make noise.
I didn’t know how he moved so smoothly and silently as he suddenly positioned himself under my dripping cunt. He trapped my hips and held me, hovering over his mouth.
“You better not make that gun go off sweet heart,” he chuckled. “Do the extraordinary to impress me.”
With those words he yanked me down onto his mouth. He was feasting on me like a four course dinner and he was a starving man. He moaned into my pussy, vibrating my insides. I covered my mouth with both hands, trying so damn hard to stay quiet.
Regulus’s needy mouth suckled my clit. His hand reached up and began to pump his weapon in and out of me languidly. I was so turned on I thought I might explode. I did then, an orgasm rippling through me. I almost felt like I’d choke from keeping the sound back. My eyes saw stars and tunneled as I tried to hold onto what I refused to give him.
He chuckled darkly into my pussy. He sucked each labia lip into his mouth, baptising me in more pleasure. I was gasping. I was heaving. I was nearly hiccuping with the effort of holding myself together.
This was when he bit my clit. I screamed. It was equal parts pleasure and pain. The hurt only turned me on more. The dam had broken and now I was a mess. Whimpering like those of a dying animal, moans of a pornstar, and broken cries like a mourner. I let out everything I’d held back.
More nibbling of my clit. More thrusting of the gun. The terrible danger made me dizzy with need. His tongue reached deep into my cunt. I realised that I wanted it to be his cock and his cum. I wanted him, no matter how much I shouldn’t.
Just as another wave of orgasm broke over me, he ripped his mouth away. I was left confused and convulsing from finishing in such a powerful way.
Regulus aided me in standing up straight, thought my legs trembled. He slid out the gun, looking please. He made eye contact with me as he now sucked the taste of my ass hole off of it.
“Don’t worry little pet, I shan’t tell anyone you made a noise. I’ll say you took it like a perfect lady and didn’t make a sound?” He whispered to me with serpent like eyes.
I breathed out shakily as he pulled me to him. He demanded that I remove his clothing and with trembling hands I did.
Soon his lanky but wiry frame was bare before me. I took in the beautiful sight. Pink nipples, moon milk skin, a long torso and legs, and a massive cock nestled in a dark, trimmed bush.
“Time to take what is mine,” he murmured, and pulled me by the hips.
He entered me with a slow pace, let me get used to the stretch. I clung to him like he was a life raft in a storm. He grabbed my ass in handfuls, thrusting into me until he was balls deep.
“Ohhhh fuck,” I moaned.
“That’s my girl,” he purred. He began to pump inside of me. Long deep strokes that reached parts of me that had never been touched.
“Good girl, fucking taking all this dick. You’ll produce a perfect heir. We’ll rule this world!” He cried as he fucked me within an inch of my life.
I was keening, my noises shame worthy. His hands explored me in a lewd but seeking way. It was as if he was trying to know all of me by touch alone. I was panting, wishing he’d press his lips to mine and swallow my embarrassing sounds before they were floating in the air between us.
“Keep it up baby,” he purred.
“Kiss me,” I pleaded. His eyes seemed to soften for a moment but then he slammed his lips to mine. The kiss was bruising in just the way I needed.
He took my air, my sound, my sound. He continued to fuck me. Our joining sounded so wet and erotic. Everything was heady and warm.
It should not have taken me by surprise when he cut my throat. It wasn’t a deep cut, shallow like a paper cut really. It hurt none the less and that added to my pleasure. I gasped as his mouth attached to me like a vampire.
Blood ran down my skin. The red decorated me as it often had my victims. I was no longer scared of this man. Perhaps we were suitably matched.
I had a burst of confidence when I went for his neck. I bit down hard. I broke the skin and he didn’t flinch. I tasted his blood as well. Both of us lapped at the knife he’d used, reviling in our shared perversion.
In the end we both came. Ropes of cum filled my ripe pussy. We were completely exhausted by our union. We both laid across from each other, panting, bleeding, covered in multiple liquids. His cum seeped from me as he said the next sentence.
Bury your sword in me, all the way to the hilt, just like you promised you would. Watch how my flesh greedily swallows it with ease. You always wanted to see how red my blood would run, dripping down your cold steel. Don't look away. Take it all in.
in the majority of modern historical fencing, people will use dull and flexible blades that slide and bounce off each other in very satisfying ways while also being safe and sane. it’s fun and I love it you should try it.
however if your were to duel someone with two fully sharpened steel blades, the edges actually bite into each other when they meet. They stick, they snag. They grab and fold around each other. You can sometimes pull your opponent toward you using only the friction of your edges. This also only really works if both of you throw a committed cut. If you both attack each other with deadly weapons in a way that is meant to do the most damage possible. I guess what i’m saying is, the intimacy and tactile freakshow of sharp edges meeting at high speeds will someday be enough for me to risk my life over.
