[villainbun]

Ი︵𐑼

Can’t you tell she’s into villains?

MDNI, 18+ only

Hii, I'm Bun. Welcome in! -`♡´-

ᕱ⑅ᕱ I DON’T DO REQUESTS but feel free to send me ideas and asks! ᕱ⑅ᕱ

Current Masterlist contains:

Scream, Squid Game, LCDP, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, BNHA

MASTERLIST

ᕱ⑅ᕱ NOW (re)WATCHING ᕱ⑅ᕱ

NARUTO, JJK,Tokyo Rev

What I enjoy: Anime (Death Note, Demon Slayer, BNHA, JJK, Tokyo Revengers (and more), Scream, Harry Potter, Stranger Things, Anything I can binge watch

[rubyys-domain]

THE HUSBAND'S LAWYER ! - h.higuruma

ˋ°•*⁀➷ synopsis : you're horny for your husband's divorce lawyer.

・❥・requests : rules

・❥・characters : higuruma hiromi.

warnings : mdni, 18+, themes of divorce, cheating (?), oral sex (f. receiving), face sitting, not proofread.

・❥・wc : 900 words

・❥・masterlist

a/n: whatever doja said about big noses

Oh God.

You could not wish to be anywhere else in the world right now, except here.

Right in the middle of your divorce, here you are, with another man underneath you. Not just any man, either, but your husband's lawyer.

Fuck, it wasn't fair at all. Sitting in the courtroom was hell. Watching the man who was hired to defend your soon-to-be ex-husband was torture. The man was sickeningly hot, extremely your type with the cunty suit he wore.

Your pussy would be dripping by the end of the sessions, watching him leave the courtroom with your husband. And going back home wasn't easy either. Still having to live under the same roof, Lawyer Higuruma would make frequent visits; you, on the other hand, preferred to meet your lawyer at her office.

Although today your husband wasn't home, his hot lawyer dropped by for another visit. You would have to be mad to let go of this opportunity.

Wearing your skimpy clothes, and a little coaxing here and there, here you were, with Higuruma between your thighs, suffocating him with your cunt. You felt every lick, every twitch, your body shivering as you stayed still.

His tongue moved since you wouldn't, taking in the sight of you on top of him, head lulling back in ecstasy. He continued to circle your clit, softly torturing your nerves till he could feel your pulse against his tongue.

You were wet. So goddamn wet, you couldn't tell if it was your cum or sweat covering your inner thighs. Your sneaky link had you huffing and puffing with every touch.

"So f-fucking unfair, wish you were my lawyer, would do this every day, Ngh!."

Higuruma hummed, "We can do this every day, sweet girl."

You groaned at those words, eyes rolling back at the image. You, fucking him. Your husband's lawyer. Someone who should be against you. It was all too hot for you to fathom.

You couldn't even hate your husband after this, after all, it was he who brought this gorgeous hunk of meat into your home, you're bound to give him some credit.

His long fingers traced your hips, stroking them ever so slightly before they moved up to your waist.

You found it sweet, that was until his tongue completely flattened over your pussy, groaning desperately. You jolt in place, soon realizing he hadn't done it to touch you; it was to brace you.

His tongue tightened once he felt you move, lifting yourself because you were suddenly overwhelmed.

But fuckkk.

You were horny as hell, so against your better judgment, you put your weight onto him again, his beautiful nose nestled right against your clit.

His nose was fucking perfect, the perfect fucking arch too. You had to force yourself not to get too excited and start grinding against him.

Perhaps Higuruma felt the desperation as he slid his tongue into your sopping cunt. You let out a hoarse moan,

"Nhgh~ Fucking finally baby...oh god!"

He chuckled at your relief, tongue delving deeper and deeper.

You could not even imagine what you were feeling right now. His tongue somehow pressed firmly against your G-spot, applying the most delicious pressure against your nerves.

You couldn't care less if it hurt him anymore, shamelessly rubbing against his nose that was perched perfectly for you to use.

"Ohh~ You wanted this too, didn't you, baby?" You moaned out the question, wanting him to speak into your cunt.

And he does.

"Ever since you walked through that door, pretty. Wearing that sorry excuse of a skirt, barely covering anything."

Although his words were muffled, you heard and felt him perfectly fine.

"I wanted my husband to regret the divorce, but if I had known his lawyer was so hot, I would have worn something even skimpier, fucked you right before the trial."

"Mmmm, keep talking, sweet girl, your voice is fucking sexy..."

"Ngh!~"

That broke you completely, rubbing against him till his tongue reached deeper than your fingers ever could.

Your hand massaged one of your tits as the other clutched his hair.

Suddenly, there was movement around the house. You hadn't even heard the apartment door open, but your husband was certainly home.

You couldn't even react when Higuruma pushed himself up, trapping you under him as his hand covered your mouth.

Your eyes were blown out wide, half from your unclaimed orgasm and half from fear.

Your eyes fell on your room door, relief washing over you once you realized you did indeed lock it, yet it isn't something your husband would notice, so he called out anyway.

Your name rang throughout the apartment, your husband's voice filling the air.

"Are you here??"

He continued, and you notice Higuruma reach for his phone. Quickly typing something, he waited patiently until you heard the front door thud closed.

Higuruma smirked, showing you his phone.

Higuruma: Dropped by your home, no one was there. Meet me at my office. ASAP. Husband: Can't I wait at home? Higuruma: It's urgent. Sebi will take care of you.

Sebi. Higuruma's colleague, whom your husband was smitten with.

Husband: Sure thing, meet you there.

Still smirking at you, he threw his phone to the side, lowered himself to align his face to your cunt again, this time, not breaking the stare.

Giving you a long and slow lick, your back arched off the bed, and your hand pushed him closer.

"Fuckk baby, if I knew it was that easy to get him out of the house, I would have done something sooner."

You mused.

Higuruma chuckled into your pussy, an action that turns you on more than it should.

"Mhh, could've had you sooner, huh?"

You bit you lip at his selective hearing, finding it sort of cute.

His hands spread you wider and wider as his gorgeous tongue continued its ministrations on your pussy. 

You folds stroked and glided against his tongue, the wet muscle moulding inside the hollow of your pussy as it pulses around him.

You reveled in this moment.

You reveled in this pleasure.

God, you fucking loved this lawyer.

a/n: i am obsessed with this man, and yes i am aware he is a criminal defense lawyer but who gives a shit, this concept was hot.

[yandere-daydreams]

experiment #3: shrinking x public.

part of the freak shit march scientific trials.

subject: dottore (genshin).

duration: 2.3k words.

warnings: non/con, afab!reader, micro!reader, mentions of physical torture, long-term captivity, exhibitionism, voyeurism, obsessive behavior, dehumanization, and forced helplessness. dead dove: do not eat.

This was, by far, the worst thing Dottore had ever done to you.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t have a long, long list to choose from, either. You’d been poisoned, starved, overfed, dosed with hallucinogenics, bunt, frozen, overstimulated, under-stimulated, vivisected, cloned, forced to vivisect that clone, and yet, this was still the worst. The most demeaning. The most dehumanizing. It was a wonder, really, how he could still find ways to make your life unlivable. If he weren’t a mad scientist, he might’ve made a wonderful novelist. He was just so fucking creative.

Five inches tall. The same height as a palm, or a toy, or a particularly resilient wildflower. You’d gone from a fully functional, more or less autonomous human being to a creature with all the independence of a pet songbird with only a round of injections and a particularly venomous smile from Dottore. He claimed it was a reward, an experience he thought you would enjoy. That was just the relationship you and him had, in his deluded view of the world. He administered torment, and you soaked it up without protest or complaint.

And the worst part was – he couldn’t even let you suffer in privacy.

From your perch on the edge of his plate, you could stare up at the harbingers like giants gathered around a levelled mountaintop. It wasn’t the entire council – thank the Archons – but his little tea party had gathered a fair share of formidable guests. Pantalone sat to his right, Arlecchino straight across. And, to his left, Childe – silent and smiling, eyes focused pointedly on you. At least the other two had the decency to pretend you weren’t there. Childe wasn’t so nonchalant.

You did your best to shrug him off, keeping your back towards Dottore and focusing on your humble meal – a miniature strawberry topped with the lightest possible dollop of cream. It was the smallest thing you could find, but you still had to hold it with both hands.

You were all half a bite in when you felt the end of a fork tap your shoulder. You ignored it, only for Dottore to prod you again, this time with enough force to knock you off of your makeshift seat and onto your feet. Rather than wait for the next tap, you grit your teeth, sucked in a deep breath, and chose to accept your fate with dignity. Or, well, as much dignity as you had left, anyway.

You turned towards him, crossing your arms over your chest. He, predictably, was leaning towards you, his chin propped on his fist and his fork still in one hand. His mask hid his eyes, but the wide smile painted across his pale lips made his satisfaction more than clear. You couldn’t pretend to be surprised. Dottore found joy in most things. Your ongoing misery was only one of them.

“What do you want?” you asked, curtly. Arlecchino and Pantalone were starting to discuss the latest courtly fashions of the upcoming season. It wasn’t exactly interesting, but it was better than anything he was bound to say.

“Only to admire my work.” He dropped the fork in favor of moving his index finger in a a vague, circular gesture. “You’ll twirl for us, won’t you? Tartaglia’s been dying to get a better look.”

You hesitated, but there were worse things he could force you to do than twirl. Even if you didn’t like the way Childe’s eyes were burning into you.

You made one slow, paced circle – no losing your balance, no fluttering your skirts, no flouncing at his beck and call like some music box ballerina. He’d commissioned a new wardrobe for you, all tulle-stuffed dresses and ornate harnesses in his colors. Only the finest materials had been used, but there was only so far you could shrink down an article of clothing before it reverted back to the stiff, confining shapes a child might trap their favorite doll in. The fit was loose and boxy, but Dottore seemed to like that. As if it were just another symptom his treatment could inflict on you.

He cooed when you were done, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. “Really, love? That’s all you’re going to give us?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Give it another try, won’t you?”

“No. You said twirl, and I—”

He didn’t give you a chance to finish. His free hand darted toward you, catching your ankle and lifting you into the air. You kicked and screamed, but there was nothing you could do to stop him from hoisting you five, ten, twenty inches up – practically a death sentence for someone of your current size. The skirt of your dress plumed downward, covering your face and fighting against your efforts to wrestle it back into place. Childe let out a low whistle. Your face burned bright and hot.

That was another thing about your current wardrobe.

Dottore hadn’t seen the point of undergarments.

“Despite the transformation, the body’s remained perfectly proportional,” Dottore explained. With your ankle pinched between his thumb and pointer, he worked his ring fingers in between your legs, parting your clenched thighs. “The internal anatomy and biological functions have remained perfectly intact, too. The specimen still eats, sleeps, and drinks just as it did prior to the operation.”

Childe’s grin widened. “Any other functions I should know about, doc?”

“Not that I can think of.” And yet, the pad of his finger ran over your crotch, applying just enough pressure to make you wince and flinch into yourself. The sensation was blunt and unnatural, like grinding against a very unforgiving pillow. As often as he touched you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. Your body wasn’t meant to process that type of feeling.

“I conceived the method as a weapon, initially, but my serum is far too complicated for that sort of thing. If you’re only looking for a way to render your enemies helpless, a hammer to the wrists and ankles would be far more efficient.” He ground his fingertip against you. You could feel yourself splitting open to accommodate him, beginning to leak onto his calloused pad. “But there is potential for medicinal use. A patient of this size would only need, say, one one-thousandth of the dosage that you or I require.”

That caught Pantalone’s attention. “Except I was promised something for the war effort, Doctor. Eccentric cure-alls are hardly marketable, these days.”

Penetration wasn’t an option, but this – the shallowness of it – might’ve been worse. He could only rub your clit in the most rudimentary possible way, up and down and up and down and up and down on an infinitely repeating loop. You could feel yourself getting wetter. It was an instinctual type of pleasure – the kind that left your stomach twisting and the blood rushing to your head. That second one might’ve just been from the way he was holding you, actually. You’d been upside down for a while.

“I never said the drug was without its uses on the battlefield.” He was so unbearably smug. That might’ve been what you hated most about Dottore. There was nothing he could do to you that wouldn’t stroke his own ego. “Tartaglia – you’ve been watching my demonstration closely. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”

Childe didn’t have to think before he answered. “It’s squirming.”

“Precisely.” You felt Dottore’s free hand wrap around your body, pinning your arms to the side and turning you right-side up. “If you’ll just look here…”

With two fingers, he forcibly parted your legs. Understanding dawned on you immediately. “Zandik, don’t—”

“Quiet now, dear. The adults are speaking.” Your face was red-hot. You could feel the other two staring at you, now, their sharp eyes burning a hole between your legs. Not that Dottore cared. He kept you like that, spread out and on display, as slick leaked down the inside of your thighs and dripped onto the tablecloth. “As you can see, the subject is acutely sensitive to any type of stimulation. That, paired with how easily the subject can be restrained, means your soldiers will have a very effective torture method on their hands, Regrator. Are there any other questions?”

It was amazing just how polite Childe could be when he put his mind to it. He raised his hand, waiting for Dottore’s nod of approval before he spoke. “How does it affect taste?”

“A wonderful area of study.” Again, Dottore made no effort to mask his delight. You began to wonder if it would have been kinder to fall into the hands of a more stoic madman. “Why don’t we find out?”

He opened his mouth wide, tongue lolling out as he lowered you onto it face-down. His lips sealed around your upper chest, leaving the arms and head dangling uselessly above his chin. You beat your fists against him, but if he felt you, it was little more than a mouse clawing at the inside of a snake’s throat as it was swallowed whole. You couldn’t do anything. You weren’t anything. And he was the one who’d made you that way.

You felt him swallow around you, the suction forceful enough to leave you clawing at his face, abruptly terrified of being sucked down. Not that he was going to let this end so quickly. His tongue rolled over your body, thick and wet and hot. Everything was like that – his saliva drenching your clothes, his humid breath sweltering against your skin. Just the feeling of your soaked dress rubbing against your chest was enough to leave you twitching, clenching your thighs together, trying not to betray exactly how you felt.

Predictably, the effort was futile.

“He wasn’t exaggerating the sensitivity,” Pantalone noted, cocking his head to the side. “Can you say something for us, dear? Torture doesn’t mean anything if we can’t understand you.”

You grit your teeth, but Dottore hummed and the vibration was enough to push a hitched, breathy sound past your lips as his contorted into a twisted smile around you. Pantalone nodded slowly, contented. “Loud and clear. Although you’ve been awfully quiet, Knave.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have more of an interest in your pet scientist and his games.” And yet, her starburst eyes were fixed on you unwaveringly. You couldn’t remember the last time she’d blinked. “It’s cruel, really. Just look at the poor thing. One of my daughters collects dollhouses – something like that would surely be a much better fit than that barbarian’s lab.”

“You can’t expect me to believe your children are any kinder to their toys.”

“Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t.” She took a long sip of her tea, never looking away from you. “Should the worst come to pass, I could always use a new desk ornament.”

The heel of Dottore’s tongue arched, grinding against your cunt. It was imprecise and the texture was akin to slimy sandpaper and fuck it all, you were leaking all over him. You could feel the hollows of his cheeks pressing into your sides, squeezing your tiny world that much smaller. You gulped down mouthfuls of fresh air, but it didn’t help. None of it helped. He was still touching you.

And they were still watching.

Pantalone’s gaze was half-lidded, but analytic, as if future market trends were written across your sweat-soaked, blushing face. Arlecchino might’ve been more bearable if it hadn’t been for the sheer intensity of her gaze, the way her fingers twitched every time you failed to swallow down some pitchy, pained noise. Childe was the worst of all, obviously. He couldn’t seem to get close enough. At some point, his mouth had fallen open, drool beginning to pool in the corners of his mouth. It was disgusting. It was objectifying. It was—

You doubled over, bucking your hips against his tongue. You didn’t know how to feel, what to want. You didn’t want to cum like this, in public, with three pairs of unknown eyes on you. But you deserved to get something out of this – a moment of blissful oblivion to make up for months and months of nonstop misery. You wouldn’t survive that level of humiliation. You’d never recover from the disappointment.  You couldn’t. You needed to. You didn’t want this. You weren’t sure if you could keep going if he didn’t give you something to live fo—

Two fingers pinched your collar, lifting you up and out of Dottore’s mouth. You whined, thrashed, but it was already over – the heat cooling, your pulse slowing, any pleasure you might’ve felt immediately overwhelmed by all-encompassing, all-consuming shame. He laid you on the tablecloth, your dress damp and rumpled beyond recognition. “No change at all,” he said to Childe. “Still just as sweet as ever.”

“Very impressive, Doctor.” Pantalone, thankfully, was quick to move on. You could’ve kissed him. Anything to show how thankful you were not to have to think about Dottore’s lovesick drawl for a second longer. “Do I have to ask about an antidote?”

Dottore sighed. “Who has time to think about things like that? If you must know, I plan to start development on a cure in…”

He trailed off, his eyes falling to you. Somehow, his gaze was the coldest and most biting of all.

“Three months? Or nine, if I get sidetracked.”

Your heart dropped. Pantalone clicked his tongue, and the conversation moved on. Even Childe was pulled away, eventually, his interest waning as you continued to lie motionless where you’d been dropped. Only Dottore lingered, smiling down at you and petting his thumb over your hair.

Nine months.

It’d be a miracle if you survived another day.

[cryoculus]

⟢ NECESSARY EVIL┊ LOHEN

you suspected the only reason the knights of favonius tolerated a battle-crazed lunatic like lohen was because someone had to be cruel enough to handle the grisly work their ranks were too noble to touch. to them, he was a necessary evil; to you, he was a waking nightmare. he hadn’t just caught a spy. he had claimed a new toy to break in the isolated dark of the aftermath. or:  the one where your arrogance lands you in the hands of the devil himself. you do not want to break free from his grasp.

✦ content. 5.6k words. lohen x f!reader. brief outsider pov. blood play. knife play (except it's a polearm??). temperature play. stockholm syndrome. EXTREMELY dubious consent. drugging. very tricky to tag this but basically u're a fatui spy and lohen tortures you kinda HAHA. written pre-6.6 so don't expect on-point characterization. smut (MINORS DNI)

✦ foreword. so i take it that if you're here, you've seen his burst animation leaks, yes? :3c lohen is far from my type of guy, but i've been making weird experimental bouts with my writing lately, and he is the perfect muse for a basement wife fic. he would chain you to the radiator and call you the love of his life in the same breath /j

READ ON AO3

“Do you think Vice Captain Lohen is hiding something?”

This was a question that Ekbert has been tossing around in his mind for the past few weeks. He tried not to dwell on it too much since unnecessary speculation could only lead to unnecessary squabbles. But as he polished the hilt of his sword, he couldn’t help but let his gaze trail after the Vice Captain of the 5th Company as the man descended the stone steps of Favonius Keep.

To anyone else, Lohen was exactly as he had been since they first marched into the farthest reaches of Nod Krai: a cold, deranged fighting machine. His hair was somehow perpetually ruffled, and those dull red eyes always seemed to scan the horizon for something to kill. He looked every bit the sadistic officer who had whipped the recruits into a force capable of surviving the Abyss. Lohen was a man who didn’t do subtlety. If he hated you, he told you. If he wanted to break your spirit during training, he did it with a smile that never reached his eyes. But as Lohen vanished past the perimeter fence for yet another solo patrol, Ekbert felt a prickle of unease.

“Give it a rest, Ekbert,” Winfried sighed, leaning against a supply crate. “The Wild Hunt is gone. Rerir is gone. The Vice Captain is probably just... itching for a fight. You don’t spend years hunting monsters and then just stop because the Honorary Knight finished the job.”

“That’s the thing,” Ekbert hissed before turning to his comrade. “Vice Captain Lohen is always itching for a fight. But have you seen him lately? He’d disappear for hours and you won’t find a speck of blood on his uniform. Since when does the guy come back from a patrol without a scratch or two?”

Winfried just laughed. “He’s probably learned how to use that Cryo Vision to stay clean so he won’t give the knights on laundry duty a heart attack. You’re overthinking it, man. Maybe you should’ve taken that transfer back to Mondstadt.”

Ekbert shook his head. He wasn’t crazy.

All this started after you disappeared.

You hadn’t exactly been with the expeditionary force from the start. You were part of the late reinforcements, summoned personally by Grand Master Varka from the Reconnaissance Corps back home. They needed someone agile, someone who was professionally trained to slip through the shadows and stake out the enemy before the Knights could close in for a siege. While their usual scouts could do this just fine, you operated twice as fast and twice as efficient.

But despite the nature of your work, you were a breath of fresh air in a camp that smelled of old blood and dandelion wine. You’d linked up with the rest of them quite easily, sharing stories from home while the rest of the knights huddled for warmth. But it was your behavior around Lohen that had everyone especially enthralled by your presence.

You had the sheer, unadulterated guts to tease him. You’d prod at the elaborate corset he wore under his coat, asking if it helped his posture while he was busy berating a trainee, or you’d make some cheeky comment about how he’s probably as bloodthirsty as he was because he was compensating for something (read: his height). Everyone expected Lohen to snap. Whether it would be challenging you to a spar or assigning you to the most dangerous vanguard post, the Vice Captain always set straight anyone who dared to cross him.

Instead, Lohen would just stare at you with those eerily blank eyes of his, and tell you to get out of his sight before he found a use for your misplaced confidence. Which was, of course, a shock to anyone and everyone who had the misfortune to train under him.

As the campaign wore on, Lohen’s unusual tolerance for your presence shifted from a camp-wide spectacle to a quiet, functional staple of their operation. While you threaded through the frost as the Reconnaissance Corps’ primary ghost, mapping the Wild Hunt’s movements, Lohen sat hunkered over jagged maps with Anselm and Nannina, translating your intel into lethal strikes.

This seamless synergy didn’t escape the Grand Master’s notice. Despite Lohen’s abrasive personality and your penchant for poking the bear, the expeditionary force had transformed into a singular, razor-sharp weapon. Varka watched on with boisterous approval, less concerned with the strange social friction between the two of you and more impressed by how his subordinates had become the very axis upon which the campaign’s success turned.

In fact, you two were so in-sync, Ekbert and the others were quite certain you’d be absorbed into the Fifth Company in no time.

Until you went missing, that is.

“Ekbert!”

The sharp bark of Winfried’s voice snapped the thread of Ekbert’s thoughts. He blinked, the phantom image of your teasing smile fading as he was shoved back into the reality of the Favonius Keep courtyard.

“Get your head out of the clouds and grab a corner of this crate!” his fellow knight pleaded with a grunt. “This shipment isn’t as massive as our usual, but it’s still rotten work.”

As Ekbert got ahold of his senses, he spotted several wooden crates branded with the seals of the Dawn Winery and Good Hunter being hoisted off a nearby carriage. The scent of aged oak and fermented grapes cut through the biting chill of the Nod Krai air—a cruel reminder of the home they were still waiting to return to.

“Sorry,” Ekbert muttered, lunging forward to catch the rough wood before it could slip from Winfried’s grip. He grunted under the weight, his muscles straining as they maneuvered the shipment toward the supply tent.

“Speculating about the Captain won’t get these rations into the racks,” Winfried huffed as his face reddened from the exertion. “And it certainly won’t bring the Recon scout back. The Grand Master already had the entirety of Nod Krai combed twice. If he says the trail went cold, it’s cold. Got it?”

Ekbert didn’t argue.

He forced himself to focus on the rhythmic thud of boots on stone and the mundane logistics of post-war occupation. He hoisted barrels of flour, counted bundles of medicinal herbs, and tried to ignore the nagging itch in the back of his mind. He told himself that Winfried was right—maybe the stress of the campaign did make him paranoid. Lohen was likely just relishing the silence of a land without monsters, and your disappearance was just another tragic casualty of a war that had claimed too many.

Yet, as Ekbert hauled the last crate of bandages toward the medical tent around midnight, he couldn’t help but notice that the supply log was already short three rolls.

And the Vice Captain had yet to return from his patrol.

That monster wrapped your bandages too tight again.

Every pulse of your blood felt like a dull hammer striking against the sensitive, raw skin where he’d nicked you on purpose, a constant reminder of the metal that bit into you whenever he wasn’t “caring” for you. You were slumped against the foot of a rotted wooden bedframe, your ankles secured by heavy, rusted iron shackles to a thick support beam that felt as immovable as the frost-laden earth of Snezhnaya itself.

Through the cracks in the cabin’s walls, the distant roar of the sea drifted in, the violent crashing of waves against a jagged shore. It most likely placed you somewhere near the Lightkeeper stronghold in Piramida, though the geography of your prison mattered little when your own mind was a fractured mess.

The lingering haze of whatever concoction Lohen had forced down your throat always made the world tilt sideways. It was a chemical leash designed to strip away your Fatui training, leaving you pliant, babbling, and sickeningly open to his whims. You felt a wave of nausea, not just from the drug, but from the crushing weight of your own humiliation.

You had played them all for fools—or so you thought. Your successful infiltration of the Knights of Favonius made you arrogant. You thought they were soft, a collection of self-righteous idealists blinded by their own sense of justice. People like them would never brand a comrade who’d assimilated so seamlessly into their ranks as a traitor.

But Lohen was not like them.

He was the rot in the woodwork, a cold-blooded outlier in an organization of posturing heroes. You suspected the only reason the Knights of Favonius tolerated a battle-crazed lunatic like Lohen was because someone had to be cruel enough to handle the grisly work their ranks were too noble to touch. To them, he was a necessary evil; to you, he was a waking nightmare. He hadn’t just caught a spy. He had claimed a new toy to break in the isolated dark of the aftermath.

The Vice Captain was a connoisseur of weapons, and he took a delight in showing you exactly why the 5th Company was known for the full range of its arsenal. He’d start by using the cold, heavy shaft of his polearm to pin your shoulders against the rotted wood, the weight of the weapon making it hard to draw a full breath as he loomed over you. With you trapped under the length of the pole, he would draw one of his daggers, the blade gleaming with a dull, predatory light that matched his eyes.

He treated your skin like parchment for his incident reports, dragging the tip in slow, agonizingly steady lines across your collarbone and thighs—not deep enough to reach a vein, but certainly enough to ensure you wouldn’t forget the sensation for days. He would narrate the process in that detached, airy voice, debating whether a Snezhnayan spy’s blood ran colder than a Knight’s as it pooled in the hollows of your skin.

“Does it hurt?” he cooed at you once, his tone dripping with mockery. “Or is the drug finally making you forget which side of the border you were born on?”

Once Lohen had mapped your body in fresh, stinging nicks and left you shivering from the combined chill of his Cryo Vision and your own terror, the caretaking would begin. He would transition seamlessly from butcher to medic, his expression softening into something terrifyingly domestic. He would sit on the edge of the rotting bed, humming a low, tuneless Mondstadtian lullaby while he dabbed antiseptic onto the very wounds he had just opened.

He’d whisper about the tragedy of your disappearance, telling you how much the other knights missed you and how Winfried had toasted to your memory—all while tightening a tourniquet or wrapping a bandage just enough to make your nerves go numb. By the time he was finished, your mind was so fractured by the drugs and the pain that you found yourself leaning into his touch, seeking warmth from the same hand that still held the blood-stained blade.

He had swiped your dignity from under your nose, leaving you with the sickening realization that he was now the only world you had left.

Yet he always acted as if you still had a choice in the matter.

The passage of time in this cabin was a jagged, broken thing. Between the constant fog of the drugs and Lohen’s masterful psychological pacing, the interval between his visits felt like a blurred eternity or a heartbeat’s flash. You weren’t sure if it had been days or simply minutes since he last wiped the blood from your skin, yet here he was again, the heavy click of his boots signaling the end of your reprieve.

He set down a lantern—one he had clearly nabbed from a Lightkeeper. There was never a schedule to his cruelty; he might arrive when the sun was at its zenith, or ensure your muffled cries were swallowed by the dead of night. Today, the way he adjusted the silver wing-shaped crest on his chest suggested he intended to take his time.

“You look pale, little bird,” he murmured, crouching before you. He began to forcefully spoon a lukewarm broth into your mouth. You knew the taste. He had spiked it again with that same hallucinogen that turned your thoughts into sluggish, melting wax.

“Eat. I can’t have you fading away before we’ve had our talk.”

Lohen tilted your head back, his gloved fingers digging into the hinges of your jaw to ensure you swallowed every drop of the laced meal. He wanted you receptive, vulnerable, and utterly untethered from your own mind. In your hapless state, all you could do was submit to his whims, gulping down the sustenance that served as your leash until the bowl was emptier than your mind.

“Now, tell me,” the Vice Captain whispered, his dull red eyes searching yours for a flicker of clarity. “Are you in the mood to finally fess up today? Or do I need to remind you that the Tsaritsa cannot hear you when you’re so far away from home? I’m not as cruel as you think, you know. I told you time and time again that you need only tell me your orders and I’ll let you go.”

Despite the warmth of the broth and the deceptive softness of his voice, you fought the urge to spill everything. Your loyalty to Snezhnaya was the only thing the drug couldn’t quite dissolve, even as your humanity was being stripped bare. You clamped your teeth shut, a glare of defiance cutting through the haze, but Lohen only sighed with a terrifyingly patient smile.

“Still playing the martyr, huh? How tedious.” He set the bowl aside and reached for the polearm leaning against the wall, the metal tip catching the lantern light. “If you won’t give me your mind, I suppose I’ll just have to settle for the rest of you.”

The heavy hilt scraped against the uneven floorboards as Lohen lifted it with casual ease, the long shaft gleaming faintly in the lantern’s sickly light. He never rushed when he had you like this—trapped, drugged, and deliciously defiant. The metal tip hovered near your collarbone for a moment, tracing the air just above the half-healed lines he’d left days ago, before he angled it higher.

“Hold still, little bird,” he murmured. “Wouldn’t want to slip.”

The cold edge of the polearm’s blade kissed the side of your neck, just below the jaw. Not the flat of the weapon this time. The sharp tip. It pressed in with surgical precision, breaking skin in one clean, shallow nick. A thin line of crimson welled up immediately, warm against the perpetual chill of the cabin.

Lohen’s dull red eyes tracked the bead as it slid downward, following the curve of your throat.

“Did you know,” he began conversationally, “the human body is a masterpiece of fragile plumbing? You’ve got all these little rivers of arteries and veins and capillaries under the skin. One wrong cut and it’s over in seconds. The carotid here,” the blade shifted ever so slightly, pressing just beside the fresh nick, “branches into the external and internal. Slice it clean and you’ll bleed out before you can even scream properly. Then there’s the jugular. That one’s less dramatic, but just as effective if you want someone to suffer a bit first.”

He tilted his head, studying you like a specimen on a dissection table.

“I apprenticed under an old doctor once. Not because I had any interest in saving lives, mind you. Quite the opposite. I wanted to learn the fastest ways to end them. Turns out medicine and murder share the same textbooks.” Lohen took a moment to simper. “Funny, isn’t it?”

Another tiny flick of the polearm. Another shallow cut, parallel to the first. More blood trickled down, warm and sticky, soaking into the collar of the thin shirt he’d dressed you in after the last session.

You bit back a gasp, body tensing against the shackles. The sting was sharp, immediate, but the drug made it bloom into something that sank low in your belly despite the hatred burning in your chest.

Lohen set the polearm aside with a soft clatter and crouched closer, boots creaking on the warped wood. His gloved hand came up to brush his fingers along the fresh wounds almost tenderly. Then he leaned in, tongue dragging slowly along the trail of blood on your neck. The wet heat of it made you shiver violently, an involuntary full-body tremor that had nothing to do with the cold.

A satisfied hum vibrated against your skin as he licked again, tasting the copper-salt of you.

“See?” he whispered, breath ghosting over the cuts. “Your body already knows what your mind refuses to admit. It craves this the pain. The way I put you back together after I break you open.”

You hated it. You hated how your pulse raced, how slick was already traitorously gathering between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of the skirt he’d brought last time. Your training screamed at you to fight and spit defiance, but Lohen had spent weeks rewiring you. Every cut and bruise, every humiliating moment of care afterward had conditioned your nerves to associate his cruelty with the only relief you ever received.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, those empty red eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

“Interrogation was never really my strong suit, you know,” he continued casually as he reached down. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of the skirt, pushing the fabric up your thighs. “Too much talking. Too much waiting for answers that might never come. I prefer a more… proactive approach.”

His hand found your clothed cunt, palm pressing firmly against the growing dampness. He rubbed slow circles, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit through the thin underwear while two fingers teased along your slit, feeling exactly how wet you’d become. A soft, mocking chuckle escaped him when you couldn’t suppress the small hitch in your breath.

“Look at that. Seems like this little Snezhnayan spy is fucked up enough on her own.”

He kept talking, voice steady and taunting even as he massaged your throbbing pussy with practiced ease, fingers pressing harder, coaxing more slick to ruin the fabric.

“Routine suits us, doesn’t it?” The monster laughs. “I taunt you. I defile every last inch of that proud body until you’re crying. Then I patch you up, feed you, hold you until the drugs pull you under. And the next time I walk through that door… we start the whole thing all over again because you’re just too stubborn to save yourself from all of this.”

Gods damn him.

Your mind was a storm of conflict. You knew how to escape. The lock on the shackles was laughably flimsy. One calculated twist of your wrist, a bit of wire you’d hidden in the hem of the skirt during his last session, and you could be free. Slip out into the night, disappear into the wilds of Nod Krai before he returned. But as Lohen’s fingers continued their relentless, teasing massage—pressing, circling, occasionally dipping just under the edge of your underwear to feel the bare heat of you—your eyes met his. Those dull red eyes. Cold and predatory. Utterly in control.

You didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Not when the pain he gave you made the pleasure burn brighter. Not when his twisted version of care was the only warmth left in your fractured world. Not when the monster wearing the Favonius crest had somehow become the center of everything.

Lohen’s smile widened, slow and knowing, as if he could read every traitorous thought flickering behind your hazy gaze.

“Good girl,” he purred, pressing a little harder against your clit, watching your hips twitch despite yourself. “Keep looking at me like that and I might just forget about the questions for tonight. We have all the time in the world… now that you’re exactly where you belong.”

Lohen didn’t move to strip you. There was something more degrading about the way he kept you partially dressed—the soft skirt bunched up around your waist a mocking contrast to the heavy iron biting into your ankles. He kept his overcoat on, the silver wing-shaped crest on his chest pressing against your shoulder as he crowded into your space, a constant reminder of the rank he held while he systematically dismantled yours.

He didn’t bother offering you the dignity of the bed either. You remained on the cold, grit-covered floorboards. He liked it better this way—forcing you to endure his touch in the dust, proving you didn’t even deserve the luxury of being degraded on a mattress.

He used his free hand to snare both your wrists, wrenching them upward and pinning them against the rotted support beam. The movement was sharp and unforgiving, pulling your arms so taut that the fresh nicks on your neck flared with red-hot agony as the skin stretched. You could only let out a fractured mewl, your breath hitching in your throat before you could even draw air. With a flick of his wrist, Lohen hooked two fingers into the elastic of your underwear and yanked it aside, exposing your dripping heat to the biting chill of the cabin for only a heartbeat before his fingers slip inside you with delicious friction from his gloves.

The rough leather dragged against your inner walls as two thick digits pushed deeper, stretching you open without mercy or preamble. Lohen didn’t ease you into it—he never did. He curled them immediately, pressing hard against that spongy spot inside you that made your vision spark white even through the haze. A broken sound tore from your throat. Your hips jerked involuntarily, trying to chase the sudden fullness, but the shackles on your ankles kept your legs splayed and helpless. The cold floorboards bit into your bare ass where the skirt had bunched uselessly around your waist.

“Shh,” Lohen cooed, soft and mocking as he pumped his fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Listen to you. Already making such pretty noises for a traitor. Does it feel good, little bird? Having a Knight of Favonius knuckle-deep in this greedy cunt?”

He scissored his fingers, stretching you wider, the wet, obscene sounds of your slick echoing in the quiet cabin. He knew exactly where to press, exactly how deep to go to make your thighs tremble and your breath stutter.

Your head lolled back against the rotted beam, fresh blood from the nicks on your neck trickling warmer down your skin. The pain and pleasure twisted together until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Every time his fingers dragged over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you, another gush of slick coated his hand, dripping down to smear across your thighs and the dusty floor. Lohen leaned in closer, his ruffled hair brushing your cheek.

“Look at how wet you are,” he whispered, adding a third finger without warning. The burn of the stretch pulled a sharp cry from you. “Crying for mercy with your mouth, but this sloppy little hole is begging for more. You hate me, don’t you? You hate how much you need this. How much your body has learned to crave the monster who keeps you chained up like a dog.”

He twisted his wrist, curling all three fingers viciously, thumb coming up to grind rough circles over your swollen clit. The dual assault made your back arch violently, a wrecked sob spilling from your lips as stars burst behind your eyelids.

“Please—ah, fuck… Lohen—”

The name slipped out before you could stop it. His dull red eyes flashed with dark delight.

“Oh? Using my name now?” He laughed, low and cruel, speeding up the brutal pace of his fingers. Wet squelching filled the cabin, louder than the distant roar of the sea. “How sweet. Beg for it properly then. Tell me what you want, spy. Tell your captor how badly you need to cum on the fingers that just carved your neck open.”

You shook your head, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, but your hips rolled desperately against his hand, chasing every thrust like a high you desperately wanted to keep. The drug made everything feel liquid and overwhelming—every stroke and press, every filthy word sinking straight into your core and melting your resistance into nothing.

Lohen’s free hand left your wrists only long enough to grab your jaw, forcing your head up so you had to meet his empty, predatory gaze.

“Don’t look away,” he ordered, voice dropping into that dangerous, silky tone. “I want to watch your face when you break. I want to see the exact moment the proud Fatui agent realizes she’s nothing but a desperate whore for Mondstadt’s favorite butcher.”

His fingers fucked into you harder, faster, the heel of his palm slapping wetly against your clit with every brutal plunge. Pleasure coiled tight and vicious in your belly, building so quickly it terrified you. Your walls clenched greedily around him, sucking his fingers deeper as if your body had already surrendered even if your mind still screamed traitor.

“P-please, Lohen... Too much. I can’t... ah, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it. Cry for me,” he growled. “You could’ve escaped days ago, but here you are, dripping all over my hand like the pathetic little toy you were always meant to be.”

As you teetered on the knife’s edge of release, Lohen’s Cryo Vision flared. A sudden, biting frost blossomed from his palm, turning the heat of your friction into a searing, sub-zero burn. The metal guards on his wrists grew lethally cold, pressing against your inner thighs until the skin stung with the sensation of dry ice. The contrast was a violent assault; the core of you was a fevered, pulsing furnace, while his touch had become a frozen blade, carving through your sensory static.

He didn’t just let the cold sit. He pulsed it—letting the frostbite-chill numb your clit for a terrifying second before withdrawing the power, allowing the blood to rush back in a stinging, hypersensitive flood. You sobbed at the whiplash, your hips bucking helplessly against the floorboards as he forced your body to navigate a landscape of fire and ice.

He sent one final, concentrated surge of Cryo through his gloved fingers as they buried themselves deep inside you. The internal freeze acted like a detonator, and the pressure snapped instantly.

Your orgasm hit like a lightning strike to a fraying wire. Your whole body seized, thighs racking with uncontrollable tremors as you came hard around his fingers, your slick gushing out to soak his glove and the grimy floorboards beneath you. A strangled scream tore from your throat, raw and humiliating, echoing off the cabin walls while your vision fractured into a blinding, white-hot void.

Lohen didn’t offer you the mercy of a reprieve. He drew out every last agonizing spasm, forcing your exhausted muscles to contract again and again until the pleasure became an unbearable noise. You were left twitching beneath him, your nerves raw and exposed, sobbing openly as the last of your resistance was washed away by the sheer, brutal weight of his persistence.

“Good girl,” he purred, finally slowing but not to offer you mercy.

With a slow, deliberate suction, he withdrew his fingers from your fluttering heat. You felt a cold, hollow ache the moment he left you, but he didn’t give you time to mourn the loss. He grabbed your chin, tilting your head back until you were forced to look at his stained leather glove, glistening under the lantern’s sickly glow.

“Such a messy, broken thing,” he whispered, the dull red of his eyes fixated on your trembling lips. “And you still haven’t told me what I want to know. I’ll need to praise whoever trained you, really. But for now, don’t let a drop go to waste.”

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, the taste of leather and the sharp, salty tang of your own release hitting your tongue all at once. The drug-induced haze in your mind combined with the crushing need to please him stripped away the last of your hesitation. You didn’t pull back. Instead, you made a pathetic, broken noise and began to enthusiastically lap at his fingers, your tongue swirling around the gloved digits to catch every bit of your own ruin. You tasted yourself, flavored by the copper of your fresh wounds, and for a terrifying second, it was the best thing you had ever had.

You were a map of shallow, stinging nicks lying beneath him. The fresh cuts on your neck had only just begun to clot, the tacky copper of your own blood smearing against his hand and your collar right after he pulled his fingers from your lips. You looked down at your shackled ankles and your ravaged skin, and the horror that should have consumed you was replaced by a hollow, sickening sort of peace. The Tsaritsa, Snezhnaya, your mission—they were all becoming distant, meaningless ghosts compared to the heavy, solid weight of the man pinning you to the floor.

Lohen grinned maniacally. “But that’s alright. We have all night. I’ll fuck every last secret out of you eventually…” He leaned in, licking another slow stripe over the slowly healing cuts on your neck, tasting blood and sweat and surrender. “Or maybe I’ll just keep you like this forever. My perfect, dripping captive who doesn’t even want to leave anymore.”

His red eyes bored into yours, pressing his fingers on the flat of your lolling tongue once more.

“After all… you’re right where you belong now, aren’t you, little bird?”

The night air in Piramida was thick with salt and the biting chill of the ocean, but the sweat on Ekbert’s palms had nothing to do with the humidity. For hours, he had trailed the Vice Captain through the terrain, moving like a ghost through the pines until the silhouette of a dilapidated cabin appeared against the moonlit cliffs.

He watched from the tall grass as Lohen disappeared inside, the heavy door thudding shut with a finality that made Ekbert’s stomach churn. He waited. One hour passed, then two. The sounds of the crashing waves below were occasionally punctuated by muffled, rhythmic thuds and high-pitched, unintelligible cries that the wind quickly snatched away. Ekbert contemplated retreating—turning back to the safety of Favonius Keep and pretending he had never followed his superior.

But the gnawing suspicion continued to burn in his mind. With a pounding heart and a sense of dread he couldn’t quite stomp down, he stepped onto the porch. The wood groaned under his weight. He took a breath, steeling himself, and knocked.

The silence that followed was deafening. But then, the slow click-clack of metal-soled boots approached the door. It creaked open only a few centimeters. Lohen stood there with his mint-green hair disheveled and his coat draped loosely over one shoulder. His dull red eyes narrowed, eyeing the shivering recruit with a terrifying, vacant calm that made Ekbert’s knees weak. Despite being the taller man, Ekbert felt small, like a mouse that had accidentally wandered into a viper’s nest.

“V-Vice Captain,” Ekbert stammered. “I... We were worried you hadn’t checked in with your patrols.”

Lohen stared at him for a long beat, a predatory smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Worried? About me? Well that’s a first. Consider me touched, Ekbert.”

Without another word, Lohen kicked the door wide, the lantern light from inside spilling out to illuminate the nightmare within. Ekbert’s breath hitched, his gorge rising as his brain struggled to process the figure chained to the bedframe.

It was you.

The Recon scout. The one they’d combed the entire region for. But you were practically unrecognizable like this—stripped bare, your body a roadmap of silver scars and fresh, weeping nicks that hinted at a violent history. A thick roll of gauze was wrapped tight around your neck, stained at the edges with the copper of your surrender.

But it was the sound you made that truly broke Ekbert’s spirit.

“L-Lohen... where’d you go?” you slurred, your head lolling back as you looked past the doorway with pupils blown wide and glassy. You didn’t even seem to see Ekbert; your entire world had narrowed down to the monster in the indigo coat. “Don’t stop... please... come back and make me feel good again. I’ll be good, I promise...”

Ekbert stepped back, his hand trembling as it went to the hilt of his sword. “Vice Captain... what have you done to her?”

Lohen didn’t look at you; he kept his gaze on the horrified knight, a perverse sort of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Just doing my job; wringing intel from a Snezhnayan spy. She’s been quite stubborn about her secrets, but I’m nothing if not patient. Only took a few weeks for her to finally give a detailed account of the Tsaritsa’s plans moving forward. Though, I feel like there’s still more to uncover.”

Not letting Ekbert stew in the shock of finding out one of their comrades was actually Fatui scum, Lohen reached into his belt and pulled out one of his gleaming daggers.

“You’re just in time actually. She’s finally starting to learn her place,” Lohen purred, his voice dropping into a silky, inviting tone. He stepped aside, inviting the younger knight into the room filled with the scent of blood and sex.

Then, he held out the weapon hilt-first to Ekbert.

“Care to join us?”

✦ afterword. rip to ekbert, the unsuspecting npc i picked out of favonius keep to also indirectly torture in this fic. you are a brave soldier, you! if you made it this far, congratulations. you deserve a round of dandelion wine on the house. will i pull for lohen when he comes out? probably not, but he is very amusing to write for, seeing as he's like childe without adderall LOL please be kind to me, this is the first time i've written smth like this BSHDBSHGBDF t_t

[cosmicalastra]

INSPECTION PRACTICE - Yan! Lohen x Fem! Reader

The Vice Captain of the Knights of Favonius' Fifth Company seemed to have posted a commission on the Adventurer's Guild board, needing help with inspection practice, out of boredom (and possibly goodwill) you accepted the commission without knowing what exactly you'll be getting into...

content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, yandere! lohen x fem! reader, suggestive themes, mentions and use of weapons (knives and guns), being held at a gunpoint for a short time, stalking from afar (scopophilia), obsession, slight body worship.

wc: 2k

notes: i'm not entirely familiar with weapons and guns so pardon if there are inaccuracies!

Lohen holds you at a gunpoint, circling you with the hole of the pistol firmly pressed against your forehead.

“Hmm…” He hums playfully. “Weapon check!~” He whispers, biting your earlobe playfully.

“Hands up.” Lohen sternly orders, his eyes narrowed down to you, the pistol on your head pulled away, but his finger remained on the trigger.

The demand on his voice barely laced by kindness was quite a surprise, after taking his commission posted on the adventurer's guild, you wonder why nobody ever took it. The post was two weeks old after all.

[Inspection Practice by Vice Captain Lohen of the Knights of Favonius’ Fifth Company, Reward: 100,000 Mora]

With much time in your hands, you decided to humor such a simple commission.

Which leaves you in your predicament. The other Knights of Favonius members gave you weapons to hide all over your body, it didn’t matter if it was on your clothes or at the hem of your pants, and apparently, Lohen will practice inspection with those weapons hidden all over you.

The knights only promise you a “He knows it’s practice, so don’t be too alarmed yeah?” Then off they sent you to the headquarter’s basement, with a small lightbulb being your only source of light.Yeah, like that would make everything less eerie.

After he demanded you to lift your hands, Lohen’s touch snaked up your neck, the leather of his gloves directly touching your skin causing a small tingle of friction between you two.  “Neck, huh?” He sultrily breathes on the shell of your ear. “A tiny place, weapons are sooooo easy to spot here.”

Lohen pulled away, a cheeky grin plastered all over his face. “Unfortunately, you’re not pretty sneaky with this, hm?” He dangles a tiny blade necklace in front of your face. You expected it anyway, the silver of the beads of that weapon did twinkle obviously inside such a dark basement.

“Arms.” He didn’t waste time as his hands moved to your shoulders, slowly feeling it with his hands, then sliding smoothly to your bare shoulders in the blink of an eye. “Hmm hmm..” He moves behind you, tickling your nape with his breath.

“Your arms are bare, huh?” Lohen whispers, his fingers moving to the underside of your arms, feeling it back and forth. “No weapons here.” He scoffs playfully, his hands leaving both of your shoulders. “But your fingers said otherwise.”

You didn’t even notice the sudden weight on your hands, Lohen swiftly snatches the iron knuckle on your left hand and swings his index on one of the holes, playing with the weapon in front of you. “I told the other knights to challenge me. Where’s the fun in this?” He playfully coos, leaning close to your face; his eyes barely bear any light yet his pupils seem to enlarge at the sight of your anxious gaze.

“You’re pretty cute.” Lohen grins, immediately moving back to scan you from head to toe.

“Let’s move on to your torso, shall we?” He adjusted his leather gloves and stepped close. “Ah, you don’t mind if I feel you here, right?”Lohen’s hands gently held close to your upper torso, his thumbs slowly rubbing on your sides. He leans close to your ear once more and whispers “It’s part of the inspection after all.”

His tone was convincing enough, it is inspection after all. Strangely, your initial anxiety seemed to be melted away by whatever that fluttery feeling pooling in your coil.

“Excited?” Lohen calls you out.

Ah that’s right, with his hands finished on feeling your sides and back, Lohen smoothly crept his hands to your lower abdomen. “Hmm… Something is bulgy here…” He snickers, “And it seems to be inside.”

He lowers his fingers, holding to the hem of your shirt. “May I?” 

You didn’t hesitate a nod, it’s inspection… How else will he retrieve the weapon, after all?

“Good.” Lohen lets out a subtle growl “Don’t mind if I do.” His hands going under your shirt.

Lohen’s gaze intently locked on to yours. Fingers wrapped in leather gloves touched your bare abdomen, pressing quite firmly on different places until finally. “Bingo.” 

He quickly takes out a thin dagger. “Who would’ve thought!” Lohen laughs, throwing the retrieved dagger in the air several times. “Nice hiding place. I must say, I’m surprised.” 

“Sneaky, but not sneaky enough.” He smirks, his hands now held behind you, fumbling with the waist band of your pants and taking out an appendix knife. “This one’s quite mediocre though…” He huffed teasingly, face laced with mock disappointment.

“Did the knights tell you to hide it behind you?” He snorts. “Relay a message to them from me after this, ‘kay?” He gave you a cheeky grin. “Tell them that I said to practice hiding weapons better.”

He gently pats your behind with a tiny manic giggle. “Now… you have one weapon left, I suppose?” 

Lohen stands up straight and circles you just like before, looking all over you. A few seconds passed as you heard the small screech of wood being dragged. Turning back, the wooden chair greets your eye. 

“I have a suspicion on where that last item may be…” He hums

“Sit.”

Without another word, you sat at the chair obediently, all traces of fear and nervousness now gone, replaced by lingering excitement on what Lohen may have in store.

“You’re cute AND obedient.” Lohen chuckles softly, settling in front of you, his gaze down at you.

He flashes another smile, unexpectedly, he slowly pulls his leather gloves off. His slender fingers are on display. “I gotta be veeeery thorough with this one.”

To add to the excitement coiling on you, Lohen knelt down and moved closer to you, holding both of your legs as he palms your pants. 

“Oh my… There seems to be a lump down here.” Lohen snakes his bare hands to your inner thighs. “And how should I remove this, hm?”

You emit a shaky gulp, your body shaking slightly. Not from fear, but excitement. Excitement of what he could possibly do… 

“To retrieve something, there needs to be a clear view.” Lohen leaned his head to your thighs, resting his chin in between them and looking up at you. “Your face screams yes…”“It can’t be helped…” He sighs teasingly, his cold hands finding its way back to the waistband of your pants, eyes not breaking contact with yours; not even for a second.

Slowly… Gently… He pulls your pants down, his cold fingers brushing against your bare thighs. To add to the sensation, Lohen blows softly on your thighs with every skin getting more and more exposed.

The embarrassment rules over your face, cheeks flushed red, your breath hitched with every teasing gesture he shows. This guy is absolutely manic, and he seems to enjoy riling you up with even the slightest touch.

“Sensitive?” Lohen cheekily asks, your pants all the way down now. The sight made him absolutely delighted.

“Found it.”

You squeaked in surprise as Lohen spread your legs apart, followed by a satisfied whistle. “So this is where you hid the last one, hm?”  

Looking close at him despite the heat you’re feeling all over your body, his pupils seem to look much more dilated than earlier, his gaze at your thighs intensely satisfied and elated.

Carefully, he grabbed the pistol strapped on to your left inner thigh. “Found the last one.” Lohen smirks, his thumbs tenderly rubbing your thighs with a satisfactory hum.

“Good work.” To end things off, he licks a long stripe on your right thigh,, his hand firmly placed on your knees, just in case you might close them and squeeze his head shut… But judging from the way he seems to be enjoying himself, he wouldn’t mind suffocating between your thighs.

His saliva glistened on your thigh as he pulled away, contented at the sight of your flustered face, disheveled and turned on.

“I like the face you’re making right now.” He gets up, carefully pulling your pants back up and buttoning them in place.

“Good job, you may leave.”

After everything that unravelled, the redness in your face seemed to die down. Fortunately, Lohen seemed to soften a bit, calming you down and helping you get up the stairs. “Careful now…”He smiles kindly while sending you off. “No worries, cutie. I’ll mark the commission as a success. Come back tomorrow to get your reward mora!” He happily waves as you disappear from his sight.

“Finally.” Lohen groans, knelt on the floor while his hand palms the wooden chair you were sitting on just a few minutes ago.

“She took the commission.” He sighs dreamily.

Four whole months of constantly posting the same commission, just so that you can finally accept it. 

The first commission posted only took one day for someone to accept; an inspection practice as per instructed. Lohen resorted to violent and cruel tactics to scare the first adventurer who accepted his commission, making a small cut on the cheek, and overall creeping the adventurer out. Eventually after practice, the adventurer took his mora and sprinted off in fear..

Like a domino effect, the second commission was posted, the same practice, the same reward, but this one took three days before an adventurer took it, this one more insane than before, pulling the trigger of an empty pistol, prank stabbing on the neck, the adventurer didn’t even finish the practice, running off while crying.

The next commissions were posted, the intervals of acceptance growing longer and longer, the message of the Vice Captain of the Knights of Favonius' Fifth Company resulting in violent tactics and threats during practice quietly spread amongst the adventurers who took it.

It was until the eight time he posted the commission, that the knights informed him that it was you who took it.

Finally… Finally…

Months of waiting for you almost made him insane, when he can only watch you from afar, conversing with other adventurers. Watching your every step, how adorable you look when you eat. And how oblivious you look when he sneaks through your windows at night when you’re fast asleep.

That could’ve been me. He would grit behind in envy.

Lohen can be quite the tactician, playing the long game just to finally snag you from those rowdy adventurers.

The trap he laid down patiently finally bearing fruit when he saw you descend to the basement…

Oh Lohen barely contained himself, your face, your body, your reactions. But he masked it, under strange fascination when deep inside, he wanted nothing more than to worship your body, take your clothes off and kiss you everywhere. Oh the thought was enough to make him drool…

But in the end, Lohen couldn’t exactly contain himself, he kept on reminding himself that he’ll only tease and make you embarrassed.

But the face you gave him earlier, a face of bashful arousal. Lohen forgot his initial reminder, and without a thought spread your legs apart. Now that he’s reflecting on it, the action was pretty obscene, but your face…

He can still remember how you gasped and squeaked at his bold move, taking the hidden pistol while his fingers touched your inner thighs, oh Lohen thought he was in heaven…

The lick afterwards was something he planned though, teasing you enough to squirm and maybe crush his head between your thighs but unfortunately didn’t happen.

Lohen can still feel the sensation of your skin on his tongue, oh how he adored how smooth and milky delicious your thighs were to his tastebuds. And maybe… Just maybe if he had moved closer, he could’ve licked you deeper.

Still, decency ruled over him, he’ll play the long game, willing to mask off the ravenous hunger he’s had for you. As much as he wants to claw his way to you, kiss you relentlessly and worship your whole being. Your aroused face says it all.

It won’t be long until you start seeking and obsessing him too, and when that day comes, he’ll devour and worship you immensely.

notes: happy lohen release day! the demo trailer awakened something in me and thus i made this short fic, i was initially planning something more freaky but this will do, i wanted it to be more freaky than just downright violent after all.

may your lohen pulls be blessed!

[cathnospam]

You have a very bad habit of falling asleep RIGHT after orgasm and Bakugo hates it.

Okay, I’m lying he doesn’t hate it, but it’s something he noticed very quickly when you started to get more intimate.

At first he assumed since it was your first time with him you’d do so, second and third time he was a bit rougher with you because he was experimenting new moves with you, but this is the 4th time you’ve done this; have a very over drawn out and loud orgasm and not too long after your eyes begin to get heavy.

You lay beside him for a moment in his arms muttering how much you love him, he kisses your forehead before heading to clean you up, but by the time he gets back you’re sound asleep. He honestly thinks if he didn’t cum before you he wouldn’t have gotten off at all.

All of this is not necessarily an ISSUE. It’s not something he is angry at you for, but he wonders for a moment do you fall asleep to avoid talking to him? Are you embarrassed? Bakugo never slept with anybody that does this so it’s new for him just as it’s all new for you still.

He notices that sometimes you do try to fight the exhaustion from you specifically after cumming from just foreplay, eyes getting heavy, voice getting weak. However, the moment you both finish together while he’s inside you, a small whimper and moan of his name soon trails off to silence, it’s as if somebody knocked you out completely.

It scared him AT FIRST, he shook you awake, but all you did was half heartily giggle and snuggle back into the pillow he soon replaced with his arms for you.

Most men would usually feel a level of pride, being able to fuck you asleep, and he does for a moment but in all honesty he wants a little more—-more of you afterwards.

He’s greedy for this, but he wants you awake, for a little bit. He wants to talk to you, make sure you’re okay, you felt good, a few more kisses . It was because you were a virgin not too long ago and wanted to see if everything was okay for you, but now…

Bakugo’s greedy what can he say.

He’s developed a level of addiction towards you he doesn’t necessarily want to end once the steamy night is over . So this weekend after your date he wants to maybe be more gentle with you, and that he was.

That night you were basically a pillow princess, you didn’t get to do a thing, it was all Bakugo putting in the work for you; feather like kisses, making sure you were more than ready for him to be inside you, talking you through it. Somehow he was more tender than you first time.

“‘Suki…”

“Good girl, let it out…just like that, yeah..”

You cling to his sweaty body that hovered over you, just for a moment. Closing the distance he had you in a bear hug with one arm, biting his lip , fighting the urge to slam himself deeper when he’s feeling your thighs twitch around his hip.

The orgasm washed over your body like a mellow wave, back arched, and eyes rolled back you fall onto some pillows with shallowed breath.

Bakugo sits up to cup your cheek, almost as if he’s searching for something in your eyes, and he was; the sleepiness you were soon about to allow take over. You reach up unknowingly and smile, kissing his face and muttering “I love you’s” like the sap you are, but the moment you lay back down and adjust you feel yourself dosing off again—

“Wait—“ Almost as if his last desperate plea he stops you from shutting your eyes. You scrunch your eyebrows seeing him get up and throw you on his chest ontop of him. You’re a little lightheaded from the sudden movement seeing as you were on your back for an hour and giggle. “Don’t go to sleep yet.”

You didn’t understand and it showed on your face, when he noticed he sucked his teeth, cheeks flushed not only from making love, but from embarrassment, “Y’always fall asleep after sex and…I just wanted to talk to you.”

It was shocking to say the least , your hands play around his broad damp chest, tracing over the tattoo on his bicep you yawn, “I’m sorry…I um…before you I used to…use orgasms as a way of falling asleep when I couldn’t so…kinda became a habit.”

He blinks at you, trying to understand how the hell you get an orgasm without—-

“You used to play with yourself before me?”

Shyly you nod, Though his voice was laced with curiosity he smiled and nipped at his lower lip. It was hot.

He didn’t say anything after that for a moment, but he sat up to kiss you, needily, and sloppy as if what you said stirred him up again.

“I don’t mean to fall sleep right after..sorry.”

“Don’t be, I just thought you was avoiding me or somethin…”

“Never.” Fake pouting you kiss his cheek, ignoring how much hotter it got after doing so you smile, “We can take a shower right now if you want.”

“We can take a quick bath.” He gets up holding you against him on his arm as he gets you both off the bed, “I know your legs are sore, little miss i didn’t move all night.”

“You literally—“ Smacking his shoulder he snorts, “said don’t do anything tonight I gotchu!!?”

[kurokawaia]

❛ Motorcycle ❜

postfire!Mello x Fem!Reader

WC; 3.1k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; Fingering, motorcycle sex, slightly degrative? degrative praising, name calling ⇢ slut, brat, Exhibitionism? voyeurism? public sex

name ; {C/n} (Cover name) | True name ; {Y/n} {L/n}

m.list | death note m.list ─── part 1 | part 2

"Matt," I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of anticipation and longing. With my legs playfully dangling off the armrest of the single-seat couch, I allowed myself to surrender to the moment. My head flung back, resting on the opposite armrest, causing the world to appear upside down.

"Yeah," he replies, his voice tinged a little weary. He dug in his tweed jacked pocket and removed a chrome silver lighter from it. He lit the flame as it sprung out with a click sound when he opened the lighter, casting a warm light on his face. He grasped deeply at the cigarette, lighting the ember at its edge so passionately that it scorched his lips, glowing bright in the process. He tilts his head back, breathes out slowly once more, and then releases what must be a long stream of smoke sailing slowly away on the wind.

"I wanna try one." I say, eyeing the cigarette in his hand. He knocks the cigarette, and the embers fall to the floor.

"Uh, I don't think Mello would like that," he replies.

"What does she want now?" he interrupts, speaking a bit irritated, then finally takes off the headphones, out of which comes a mop of blonde hair. In one fluid motion, he quickly retrieves the chocolate bar; the wrapper makes a very annoying crinkle as he rolls the rest down further and takes a good bite. As he waits for an answer, he slightly narrows his eyes and hints at a vision of curiosity and exasperation.

The girl's a smoker. Matt chuckled a bit as he said it and then took another small puff; the glowing cherry of the cigarette danced light across his face for a half-second before the illumination died against the dimly lit surroundings. Thin spirals of smoke curl and dance around him in the air.

"She's not having one, then," Mello strikes back, his voice coated in a combination of defiance and frustration so palpable one could almost taste it. The faint scent of chocolate seems to hang in the air as he takes another bite, the artificial sweetness almost a distraction from the tension of the room.

"What- Why?" I wail.

"Because I said so."

"You're no fun, Mello," I reply, mischief in my eyes. With force, I cross my arms across my chest, dramatizing the action, and can't help the impish smile that curls my lips, knowing my words are a prod. The room seems to hold its breath for a moment—anticipation hangs in the air.

And oh boy, did it work. The face of Mello twisted into a grimace of irritation and disgust mixed together; furrowed brows and very tensed jaw; arms crossed, tense muscles; the body language is betraying his building frustration. A flicker of fire danced in those same eyes, proving that my comment had hit a nerve.

Immediately, a mixture of satisfaction and dread flooded me. It was like the tempest of success was awakening and I could almost smell the ozone in the air and was prepared for the storm that was going to wash over me with full fury, not knowing in which form Mello's wrath would ensue.

"\"{C/n}," Mello says, his voice oozing with the detached cool of arctic ice as he gets off his chair. He stands up straight; his form displays arrogance and rebellion as though he were defiantly daring whatever could come his way. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his tight leather pants; the material forms around his fingers, tight and tense. His gaze sharpened and focused, almost cutting a straight line through the air, cultivated toward me.

"Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I lift my head to gaze upon Mello, now standing directly in front of the couch upon which I had been reclining. My eyes begin to trace the angles of his face. There's intensity there, etched in his features.

My eyes drifted down, almost involuntarily, as I looked at him, and even from my vantage, I saw the fading red and purple marks on his skin that I had caused. There, peeping out from between the edges of his leather vest, were the hickies—thus specified the remnants of one of the many nights we had shared—marking his abdomen. I could feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks at my great embarrassment and wanting all rolled into one feeling, remembering that night so easily.

I lose myself for a moment in the memory: the heat of our bodies intertwined, the softness of his skin beneath my lips as I trailed down his body to suck his dick. The sight of Mello, unashamed in showing those marks, sends this rush of fire through me, a reminder of just how intimately we are connected.

"I am getting more chocolate," Mello announces as he strides toward the door with heavy steps. His leather-clad figure strides into the room, oozing confidence and full of purpose, and everyone immediately takes heed of his arrival. The sound of the boots striking the floor resonates in the room, creating an undertone to the situation unfolding at hand.

I run quickly afterward, my heart aflutter, ready for anything. As I move faster, my flowing skirt dances with me, going in rhythm with every pace as I try to keep up with his obviously long stride, the fabric fluttering against my legs. A soft reminder of motion and movement.

We could feel the adventure waiting for us inside as we approached the door. The scent—the delicious sense of further chocolates, new tastes, or perhaps the reintroduction of older ones—estranged something within me. Sweetness touched the tip of my tongue, and the feeling hyper-extended my senses to their fullest.

With a mix of anticipation and nervousness, I moved through them quickly, my steps echoing next to Mello's. There was an odd sense of deja vu as we pressed on together, ready to satisfy our shared desire for chocolate, and the something else about him that I could already tell was on his mind.

Clearly the eyes twinkle in delight as the bike belonging to Mello appears in the front. I do not hesitate for one second as I run past him. There is a fresh gust of energy that propels me toward the motorbike. I mount the bike but I don't sit on the saddle as one might tend to surmise about me. On the contrary, I drop myself onto the saddle, my legs splayed out on the sides.

As I straddled the bicycle, a grin, playful, impudent, spread its way across my face as if in reflection of the sense of childlike joy. I had the feeling Mello purposely took shorter steps not to lose but rather to tantalize me as he came closer. And that only made it more exciting, with heightened expectation, as I waited for him to come.

My short skirt and the fishnet tights I wore made the back of my thighs cling to the sticky leather seat of the bike. I can feel the texture of the material against my skin, a slight discomfort that is overshadowed. Slightly moving about the seat, my skirt rustles softly with the drag, a mix of anticipation and a touch of impatience.

"Mello, come on," I say louder. "You're taking too long!"

"I'm coming," He growls at my sudden burst of energy. He finally stands before my figure, touring over me. I couldn't help but admire his features, golden blonde hair with pretty ocean eyes. I take a quick skim over the scar he had earned during the fire. The scar is between his waist to shoulder and continues up to his nose and left eye.

He stands before me, his presence commanding and magnetic. As he positions himself between my legs, I instinctively spread them apart, creating a space for him to be closer. 

Bending down, Mello's face hovers near my neck, his warm breath grazing my skin, sending shivers down my spine. The sensation is both electrifying and intoxicating, causing my body to respond involuntarily to his proximity. 

His voice, low and husky, reaches my ears, his words laced with a mix of amusement and admonishment. "Y'know, you've been acting like a brat these past couple of days," he breathes, his words tinged with a hint of playful reprimand. The sound of his voice sends a jolt of excitement through me, a reminder of the connection we share.

His hands, strong and possessive, grip the plushy flesh of my hips, asserting his presence and control. The touch sends a surge of desire coursing through me, a physical manifestation of the tension that has been building between us. The sensation of his touch against my skin is both comforting and exhilarating, a reminder of the passion that lies beneath the surface.

"Yeah?" I say swallowing that growing lump in my throat.

"Mhmm," he mumbles, his warm breath tickling my skin as his mouth leaves a trail of hot, lingering kisses. Starting from just below my ear, his lips move with deliberate slowness, tracing a path down towards my collarbones. Each kiss ignites a fire within me, causing a breathy sigh to escape my lips, a testament to the pleasure coursing through my veins.

His lips, soft and demanding, leave a trail of heat in their wake. The sensation is both tantalizing and intoxicating as if every touch is a promise of the passion that lies ahead. I can feel the weight of his desire in each press of his mouth against my skin, a silent declaration of his longing.

As his kisses descend, my body responds instinctively, arching slightly towards him, seeking more of his touch. The contrast between his warm mouth and the coolness of the air sends shivers down my spine, heightening my senses and deepening the connection between us.

"All needy," he remarks, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and desire. Mello's hands, now exploring my body, skimmed over my thighs, sending a shiver of anticipation through me. His touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingers tracing a path under my skirt, teasingly playing with the flimsy material of my fishnet tights.

As he tugs at the delicate fabric, a surge of heat courses through me, intensifying the desire that already burns within. The sensation of his fingers against my skin sends waves of pleasure cascading through my body.

His touch becomes bolder, his fingers digging into the softness of my thighs, leaving a delicious ache in their wake. The mixture of pleasure and slight pain elicits an uninhibited moan from deep within me, escaping shamelessly from my parted lips. I am consumed by the sensation. The combination of his touch, the teasing tug of my tights, and the pressure of his fingers against my skin creates the intoxicating pleasure I feel from him. 

I heard a faint snapping noise from where Mello's hands were making me gasp at what he's done. "Baby, I just bought those," I breathlessly say as my nails do into the leather seat of the bike. "I'll just buy you another pair," He replies slightly panting as lifts his head from my neck I give a quick look down and see the marks of red and slight purple scattered across that side of my neck and chest. 

Mello's lips, now exploring the other side of my neck, dip lower with a newfound intensity. With each suction, he applies more force, leaving a trail of heated kisses in his wake. The sensation is both electrifying and intoxicating, causing me to release my grip on the seat and instinctively clutch his jacket, pulling myself closer to him.

As I pull him towards me, a low chuckle escapes his lips, a mix of amusement and satisfaction at the effect he has on me. 

In this heightened state of arousal, I feel his touch shift, his fingers now venturing toward my most sensitive area. Through the fabric of my underwear, I can feel the pressure of his fingers as they prod at my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. The anticipation builds, and I can't help but whimper in response, a sound that betrays the overwhelming desire that consumes me. The combination of his lips on my neck and his fingers teasing my most intimate spot creates a symphony of pleasure that leaves me yearning for more.

As my underwear is shifted to the side, I can feel the cool air against my exposed skin. In response, I wrap my arm around Mello's neck, pull him closer, and entangle my hand in his luscious blonde hair. With a gentle tug, I elicit a deep, primal moan from him, the vibrations reverberating against my sensitive flesh.

My other arm remains securely pressed against his chest, unwilling to let go, The connection between us is palpable, a tangible force that binds us together in this moment of raw desire. His fingers, now guided by his own hunger, venture further down, tracing a path along my slick slit. The touch is electrifying, causing me to tremble in his hold, my body responding to his every movement. A helpless whimper escapes my lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through me.

"Already so wet, such a needy slut," he remarks, his voice laced with a smug smirk against my skin. His words only serve to intensify the desire that burns within me, fueling the flames of passion that threaten to consume us both. It's a moment of vulnerability and surrender, where inhibitions are cast aside, and I am completely at his mercy.

"Hah, Mello," I moan.

"What, Brat? You like it, don't you? The feeling of getting caught, such a slut for me."

In this heightened state of arousal, the world around us fades into oblivion, and all that matters is the intoxicating dance between us. The sensations become all-encompassing, overwhelming my senses and pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. It's a moment of pure indulgence, where pleasure reigns supreme, and I am lost in the symphony of desire that unfolds between us.

As Mello's fingers push past my slick folds, a surge of pleasure courses through me, leaving me breathless and desperate for more. With a deliberate curl of his fingers, he finds my seeping hole, drenched with arousal, and plunges into the depths of my desire.

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves me unable to contain my moans. I press my lips against his shoulder, muffling the sounds that escape from deep within me, as I chant his name. His fingers, skilled and relentless, explore the depths of my core, igniting a fire that consumes my every thought. Each movement, each stroke, sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through my body.

As I surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch, the combination of his skilled fingers and the intensity of our connection pushes me closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure bliss, where time stands still, and I am consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that courses through my veins.

As Mello's fingers continue their relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of my seeping hole, the familiar coil of pleasure tightens inside my stomach. I wrap my shaky legs around him, seeking to anchor myself to him amidst the overwhelming pleasure. My body quivers with anticipation, responding to his every touch, every movement.

"Mello, Mello, M-Mello," I chant his name into his neck, my voice filled with a mixture of desire and need. The tears welling in my eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume me entirely.

In response to my plea, he groans against my neck, his voice laced with desire. He begins to stimulate my clit with the pad of his thumb, adding another layer of pleasure to the already intense sensations. The touch is electrifying, causing me to arch my back in response, seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he offers.

"What do you call me when we are close like this? I want you to call me that," he whispers, his voice filled with a primal need. His words send shivers down my spine, fueling the fire that burns within me. I understand his desire for a deeper connection, a more intimate bond in this moment of shared vulnerability.

Through the haze of pleasure, I manage to sob out his true name, the name that holds a deeper meaning between us. "Mihael," I gasped, my voice filled with reverence and longing. It's a moment of profound intimacy, where our desires align, and we are united in our pursuit of pleasure.

In this heightened state of passion, the world around us fades away, and all that matters is the intoxicating dance between us. The pleasure builds, the tension mounting with each passing second until I am on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure surrender, where pleasure reigns supreme, and I am consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy that engulfs me. 

"Come for me, {Y/n}." Waves of ecstasy wash over me, leaving my legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from my hole and I continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. I managed to release myself from Mello's neck and move away from his hold, he dragged his tongue on the fingers that were drenched in my come causing me to get embarrassed and pull myself into his neck once more so he couldn't see the blush on my face. 

I gaze up to the apartment we were shortly staying at and I see Matt sitting on the window sill with crossed legs taking puffs from his cigarette and looking down at the both of us. The smirk was prominent on Matt's face. His glasses have been disregarded, knowing now for sure that he had witnessed the whole thing. 

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | death note m.list

[cherubguts0]

Hiii<3 may I request the Wammy boys and L with a gf or s/o that’s bitchy to literally everyone expect for them?

🕯 Hi!! Ofc u can! I hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for L’s being short (￣ω￣;)

The Wammy Boys And Their Bitchy S/o

Characters: L Lawlet, Near, mello, and Matt

🕯X reader

🕯fluff and angst, a little suggestive

L Lawlet:

L knew that you could be bitchy, I mean hell you weren’t the most charming person when you two first met, however as time went on you began to warm up to him. Soon Turing into a perfect lap dog.

Even now, sat on the desk between L and Light, you’re still the same person L had met. “Yknow y/n, it’s really distracting having you sit there” light said, looking up from his work.

“Shut up Kira” is all you said, watching as light furrowed his brow. “How many times do I have to say it!? I’m not Kira!”

“You definitely are, that’s why you’re so defensive, Kira!” You teased, Getting right in Lights face. L doing nothing to stop you, finding it amusing how angry light gets at the word Kira.

“God you’re so annoying, I can’t imagine how L puts up with you” light said bitterly, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed. “I don’t see why L doesn’t lock you up already for being Kira, it’s written all over your face” you reply with a smirk.

“I unfortunately don’t have the evidence angel, also could you be a dear and ask watari to bring me some cake?” L said typing away on his computer. You smiled softly at him, hopping down from the desk and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Of course” you said, smacking light out side the head  as you walked past him.

“HEY! L Control your girlfriend” light complained to L. “I cant, plus it’s funny watching you two bicker” L replied, looking over at Light with his signature smile.

You really were his perfect lapdog

Near:

You’d always been over protective of near, you’d basically fight just about anyone who said something negative about it him. (You fought with mello the most though, especially during your wammy house days)

However, because of the Kira case, you’d been more on edge, sat behind near, watching him build tower after tower with dominoes.

“Hey near, I have that file for you” Linder said as she entered the room. “Just leave it on the table, and be careful please, I’ll be very upset if you ruin my work” near responded, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers, eyes never moving from his towers. “Of course” Linder said, walking over to you and setting the file on the table next to you. “By the way, there’s a new cafe that has opened up, I was wondering if you’d like to go” Linder asked, you felt fire in your chest.

“You know near cant leave this place, why would you ask something so stupid like that.” You asked, spitting venom at Linder. “It was just-“

“Just a stupid, dangerous idea,I mean seriously do you even think before you speak!? One wrong move and boom near is Fucking dead!” You raised your voice to speak over Linder, standing from your chair in anger as you spoke.

“Y/n, that’s enough.” Near said, Turing to look at the two of you. “Thank you for the ofer liner, but as y/n stated, I can’t leave. You are dismissed” he said in his monotone voice. Linder nodding, saying a silent apology as she left the room.

The room was quiet for a while, you final sat back down after cooling off. “What was that about?” Near asked, breaking the silence. “Nothing.” You said, watching as near looked over at you, stood, and walked till he was infront of you. “You’re lying, what’s wrong?” He asked again, putting his hand on your cheek.

You sighed, pulling near onto your lap and hiding your face in the side of his neck. “I’m just worried about you, this whole Kira case has me stressed out” you mumbled out, near humming in acknowledgement. You two sat in silence again, near twirling a strand of white hair between his fingers, his other hand wrapped around your shoulders as you had yours right wrapped around his waist.

“I don’t want to lose you Nate, you mean to much to me” you confessed, nears eyes widening at the use of his real name.

“You won’t lose me y/n” near reassured, pushing you back a little so he could leave kisses on your face, wiping away the tears that began to spill from your eyes.

✞𝑆𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 (￣ω￣;)

Mello:

Dating a mafia boss isn’t the easiest thing in the world. With random girls constantly coming over to late night missions. However your managed to keep things under control, mellos’ men feared you, they knew not to back talk to you. After all, you weren’t afraid to pop one through their skulls.

“Hey, y/n, what’s with the slutty attire today?” One of the newer men asked, “Hmm?” You responded, sat on mellos lap, only wearing one of his shirts, black panties, and black Lacey stalkings to match.

“You heard me, you look like one of these prostitutes” the guy snickered, pulling the girls on either side of him closer.

“Dude shut up-“ one of the older guys said, only to be cut off “why should I? They’re just some whore who got lucky enough to sleep with the head hauncho” he continued.

All you could do is laugh,honestly, putting your hand on mellos chest and curling forward as you let out the loudest laugh, a sinister tone coming through as the guy who was talking shit started to get nervous. “What you laughing at whore!? I’ll fuck you up you hear me!!” He said, quickly taking a stand.

“Oh? You? Fuck me up?” You responded cockily, also taking a stand. “Let’s get two things straight, the only person who fucks me, is mello.” You started, bending down to give mello a kiss on the cheek, sneaking the gun out of his hip. “And, I don’t fuck dead people.”

“Dea-“

BANG!

before he could even finish his sentence, you’d pulled the trigger on mellos gun, shooting him straight in the head. Brain matter and blood had covered the wall and girls behind him, both of which started screaming and crying as he fell to the floor.

“Good job baby” mello said, smiling up at you. “Thank you, can someone get those two outta here please?” You asked, watching as a bunch of guys quickly got to their feet to escort the girls out.

“You do kinda look like a whore though” mello joked, “only for you” you replied, taking your seat back in his lap, gently placing the gun against his temple. “But you better be careful, I’ve been known to kill people for saying stuff like that” you giggle as mello kisses you, moving your arms to wrap around his neck.

Matt:

You hated them. All of them. Every single girl who had came up to Matt during your date just to tell him how hot he was. It pissed you off, you wanted to crush their skulls for even looking at him. Like wise, every girl that had come upto you guys you told to fuck off, calling the worst names known to man until they left.

It was now towards the end of your date, the two of you sat outside a small café, the night stars shining brightly above you. “It’s so nice out” you said, looking up at the night time sky.

“It is, hey I’m really sorry about those girls coming upto me” Matt said, holding your hand from across the table. You looked over at him, sighing softly before you spoke. “It’s fine, you can’t help being-“

“Omg! You’re literally so pretty!” A girl cut you off before you could speak, you glared at her as she put her hand on Matt’s shoulder. “We should meet up sometime! Here’s my phone number!!” She said, completely ignoring your presence.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?!” You exclaimed loudly, quickly standing up and splashing water on girl la fancy dress. “Hey! What the fuck us wrong with you!”

“What’s wrong with yoy!? Cant you see we’re on a date! Why don’t you go whore yourself out to someone else!! You look like trash anyways he wouldn’t even go out with you!” You yelled at her, watching as tears started to form in her eyes. The girl quickly ran off, leaving you and Matt alone once again.

Thank god the outside seating area was empty.

“Y/n” Matt said, looking up at you with a worried look. You looked down at him, almost instantly calming down as you sat. “I’m sorry, I’m just so sick of people coming upto you!” You explained, crossing your arms as you looked down at your lap.

Matt stood, walking over too you and giving you a kiss on your head. “I know, you handled that a lot better then I would of.” He said, handing you the little peace of paper with the girls full legal name and phone number.

“You wanna sell her info, I’m sure you and I could find loads of shut with this info” Matt offered, watching as your fave brightened up. “Of course, sound alot more fun then staying here anyways” you said, standing and following Matt out to the street. Running into the same firm from earlier with her bestie.

“There they are! That fucking bitch!” She said loudly, you watched as her friend came over to you, pushing you back. “What the fuck is your problem!? Huh!” She said, getting all up in your face.

In one fello swoop, both you and matt pulled out your guns (something mello made you both carry considering how close you two are to the mafia), you aiming at the girls friends head and matt aiming at the trashy girls head.

Both girls froze, you were first to speak. “So help me god you bother me and my boyfriend one more time Well Fucking blast you both on this street.” Both girls looked at eachother and quickly ran off.

You sighed once again and brought your gun down, Matt pulled you into a hug. “You want me to carry you to the car? You must be exhausted from today”

All you could do was nod, lifting your arms up to wrap around Matt’s neck as he lifted you up with ease, bringing you back to his car.

Once you two got home, you spent the rest of the night cuddled up together, cyber stalking that girl and selling her info to loads of people.

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

"Sit on my face"

Fandom: Death Note

Pairing: Mello X Fem!Reader

Request: "Hi h!i:D May I request for the event, Mello pleasuring reader to help them forget about their extremely exhausting day with prompt 14 “Sit on my face” " ◜By lovely anon!◞

Genre: Smut

Format: Fic

Warnings: Explicit smut, Dom!Mello, Sub!Reader, Praising, Face sitting, Dirty talk, Cunnilingus, MDNI

Word Count: 1.6K

A/n: Face sitting with Mello? Eye eye captain!

There was nothing more relaxing than getting a massage from your boyfriend after coming home, having an extremely exhausting day at work. Your mind was going numb with the way his hands were gently roaming around your body, massaging the fatigue away; and he was definitely aware of that.

"Feels good baby girl?" He said quietly, fingers reaching for your puffy cheeks to squish them from behind. All you could see was the pillow under your face, but from his calmness you knew that a soft smile was flaunting on his face.

"Mhm honey, feels amazing. Honestly, how can your hands be so professional at this? They always focus on the right spot"

"Especially when I'm fingering you~"

His remark made you chuckle and look back at him from your shoulder, to meet a gorgeous, proud smirk, sitting so perfectly on his face.

"Of course, especially when you're doing that"

You were waiting for him to say another dirty thing so that maybe he could earn a tiny bit of blush from your face, but a tiny bit turned into a dozen when his hand slowly went down on your entrance, leaving your hips untouched. Your breath got hitched in your throat as his fingers started teasing your entrance, coming up and down on your slit to make you shiver slightly and close your thighs around his hand. That didn't stop him from going further though; now it was his fingertips poking your hole, remaining close to your clit but not making sensible contact with it to make you go wild.

"Mello..." Your shaky voice and the hints of frustration hidden in it made him raise his head to look at your figure from behind, admiring how your hair was scattered freely on your back.

"What? You're not in the mood?"

"No, it's just that... I don't think I can move around so much... I'm worn out from all the hard work I did earlier..."

He nearly frowned when he thought that he needed to let this chance slip from his hands; but suddenly, an idea popped into his mind that made him beam hugely, thinking about the compelling outcome.

"What if you don't have to move around at all?"

His interesting comment made you sit up and look at him curiously. He didn't seem to be messing with you, even though his playful grin hadn't left his face.

"What do you mean? How are we supposed to have sex when I'm not doing anything?"

"Well there's no need for you to do anything! You just have to remain still, that's all"

Your widened eyes showed that you were kinda getting it, but he couldn't miss the opportunity to witness your stunned expression when you hear about his tempting offer from his own mouth.

"Are you... Are you trying to say that..."

"Sit on my face. That's what I'm trying to say"

Your heart slammed itself hard to your thorax.

"I'm not sure about this. We've never done this before"

"Which is exactly why we should give it a try"

Mello's abs looked even hotter when he was lying down on the bed. And you? Looking insecure, unsure, and nervous, sitting beside him; you weren't really matching each other at that moment.

When he saw that you were still caught up in your thoughts, he sighed and took your hand to pull you near him gently. You didn't resist him, but you still weren't certain if this was a good idea. It was literally written all over your face, with how you were sulking and looking at your boyfriend's gorgeous face, imagining how it was going to get crushed by your thighs.

"C'mon girly, what are you waiting for? It's going to be amazing"

Yeah, you didn't have any doubts on that one. Of course it was going to be amazing. It was Mello and his damn tongue, for fuck's sake.

"I don't know babe... What if..."

"What if what?"

What if you look ugly sitting on his face like that? What if you suffocate him with your weight? What if...

Mello knew what was going through your mind. It wasn't his first day of meeting you.

He shook his head with a small smile before pressing your hand reassuringly, his other hand reaching for your left cheek. His voice was as firm as ever, not even a tiny bit of doubt floating in it.

"You'll be fine, gorgeous. I wouldn't have suggested this if I didn't know whether it was going to work out. Just trust me on this one, ok?"

Well, there couldn't be any arguments left on your mind when he puts it that way.

Slowly, you let out a deep breath before raising you foot to place it next to his head. You were remaining on top of his face, still not attempting to sink down fully. He rolled his eyes at your uncertainness and grabbed your hips, pulling you down with force. Your clit suddenly slammed against his lips.

"Oh!"

Look at you! He hadn't even started yet and you were already moaning.

Trying to cover your excited smile with your hand was useless. Mello had already seen it.

"So now you're giggling? You were acting a bit different earlier"

"Oh shut up! Let's just get this over with"

"So bold talking to me like that. Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude"

He spent a few seconds staring at your face, his heart warming up by how you looked so entrancing from his point of view. If only you could see yourself through his eyes...

Just when you wanted to ask him what was taking him so long, his lips met with your cunt. A low pitched moan left your mouth as his tongue started playing with your clit. It was unbelievable how skilled he was at eating you out, how his damn tongue made you lost your mind and try to grind against it harder. But this time... It felt better, closer, deeper. His tongue was warm, and so was your pussy. The only difference was that there weren't any tasty liquid coming out of his mouth.

It was like his mouth had mistaken your folds for your lips. He was going deeper and deeper, closing his eyes to enjoy the taste of your arousal. He had to grip your hips in order to make you stay above him, though it wasn't easy since you were squirming around so much. But tonight was all about you, so he could put up with that, just for now.

"O-oh! A- Oh my god!"

"Right?~ Told you it was gonna be fun"

Your entrance was aching a bit, but the pleasure was too much to give up on. You could only grip the mattress under his head to keep yourself from falling, and of course binging your core nearer to him as it wasn't literally on his face already. Was he protesting? Heck no, not when he could enjoy the view of your back arching so prettily above him.

His tongue was moving around everywhere, your walls, the surface, your hole, anywhere but your damn clit. No matter how much you pressed yourself against his face, he wasn't gonna give up on the teasing.

You totally forgot about how you were worried to suffocate him.

"Mello! Stop teasi- Ah!"

He finally did it. The second you started talking, he sucked on your clit so hard that you nearly saw stars. A loud moan, almost close to a scream escaped your mouth, but it didn't stop there; as his mouth didn't let go of your clit.

Now your sensitive flesh was fully in his mouth, his tongue moving up and down on it. The tip of his tongue pocked your hole then came up again to the apex. His talent in French kissing was a blessing and a problem at the same time, making you moan so hard you were sure that complains were coming at your door tomorrow morning.

"Shit shit shit! Right there! Please! Oh shit!"

"Mhm!"

One of his hands left your hips and came down to your pussy, rubbing on your way in and pushing inside. You couldn't see clearly anymore, all you could feel was the heat coming from your core filling you up, and his mouth fueling your body, dragging you closer to your release.

But apparently, it wasn't enough; since you started grinding on his tongue wildly, letting out lewd sounds. Weren't you tired of moving? That didn't really cross your mind at that time.

Thankfully Mello played along, keeping his tongue out for you to crush yourself on it. You tasted too good, so he was willing to let you smother him with your cunt if it meant he could have more of your arousal.

"Fuck! Oh my fucking go- Ah! Mello! I'm- I'm-"

And it happened. You started shivering harder than usual, screaming as your hot cum filled up his mouth. He placed his tongue on your entrance, unwilling to lose even one drop of your arousal. Your hole twitching above his muscle felt really nice.

Your scream was finally over, but your panting for breath wasn't. You took a deep breath before looking down at your boyfriend, finally seeing how red his face had became.

Poor guy. You knew he was going to have a hard time down there.

But you didn't feel that guilty, since he didn't seem to be upset.

Mello smiled when he spotted your eyes on him, stretching his arms out to run his fingers though his hair.

"Well, thanks for the meal"

Yeah, thanks for not refusing to eat your meal.

Reblogs are wildly appreciated! :>

[morbiderotica]

hello can you do Mello with a s/o who is very girly type i love pink and bows and has a more shy personality very sweet and gentle pls

─ ★ pretty in pink ... gn/fem!reader

"mello!" you called out to your boyfriend who was talking to some guys whose names you didn't bother to remember. he turned around to greet you, and you wrapped your hands around him, enveloping him in a hug. you felt the warmth of his body against yours, and the familiar scent of his cologne was comforting.

"hi." his voice was very monotone compared to yours, which was cheerier. you could tell something was on his mind, and you wanted to ask about it, but knew better than to meddle in his buisness. "i need to tell you something." you giggled and he shooed the guys away, wanting to be alone with you.

"what is it?" he asked, looking into your eyes, as if he was paying attention but he seemed lost in though. "c'mere." you motioned for him to come closer, and he obliged. you felt his arms snaking around your waist, and his breath on your neck. a shiver ran down your spine, as he leaned his head down.

"i love you." you whispered in his ear. “that’s nice.” he seemed uninterested but the smile he was trying to hide didn’t go unnoticed. his hand lifted up and brushed your hair behind your ear to gesture that he loved you too.

after a moment of silence, he shifted his attention to the pink dress you were wearing. "this new?" he asked, his fingers tracing the fabric and tugging on it, slightly revealing cleavage. "mhm!" you twirled around to show the dress in all its glory. "cute." he smiled, and a blush rose on your face. "shut up." you giggled, feeling a bit embarrassed but also happy that he noticed.

[mailjeevasfan]

Hi hii how was your day or night Going? I wanted to request the death note characters with a gn s/o who that day decided to wear lipstick and take their partners by surprise and gives them quick kisses all over their faces leaving them with lipstick marks and then continues on their way as if nothing had happened. Thank You in advance

sorry if these were kinda short but i hope this is what you were looking for!

-death note x gn!reader

-light, misa, l lawliet, matt, mello, near, matsuda

༺♡༻

dn characters if you left lipstick marks on their face ❦

light yagami

i feel like he’d be uncharacteristically taken aback by something like this. i hate to say it but he probably would be kind of frustrated at this, when he’s around the task force at least. he just needs his image to be professional and serious. but in private he’d probably find it kind of cute, and if it was before he started working on the kira case.

༺♡༻

misa amane

it goes without saying that she’d live for this. in fact, i think it would be more likely for her to do it to you. but in the situation of you doing this to her, she’d get kind of flustered in an adorable way but be super excitable at the same time. as i kind of said earlier, she’d probably do it back to you as well, and would totally take pictures.

༺♡༻

l lawliet

depends on his mood that day probably. if he’s busy with stuff he might be kind of agitated but you’d most likely know not to disturb him if that was the case. that being said, if he wasn’t busy and he was also in a fun mood i feel like he’d love it. like even around the task force he’d find it adorable. i can’t help but see L as someone who actually loves little cute things like that IM SORRY

༺♡༻

matt

he would 100% love when you do stuff like this. he already thinks you look so cute when you wear lipstick but if you were to do this he’d go crazy fr. he would take tons of selfies with you showing the marks and show EVERYONE lmfaooo

༺♡༻

mello

basically the same to matt. even though he’s high strung and has a short temper, i think he’d find this very cute. he’d like the slightly possessive undertones the most if that makes any sense??? in general, he likes to show you off to the mafia members all the time so this is just another one of those things. essentially, he’d wear those lipstick marks with PRIDE

༺♡༻

near

he’s obviously a very logical and analytical person, so he’d be confused at first. but ultimately he’d be flattered. he’s not used to this kind of thing so he’d try to analyse this action a bit more, even if there isn’t much to analyse, he just doesn’t know this yet.

༺♡༻

matsuda

would be ALL OVER THIS. he’d be soooo flustered and embarrassed but also would be so happy that you’re being so affectionate, and ofc would return this affection. task force would 100% side eye him and he wouldn’t be fazed by any of it he just loves this gesture and doesn’t care about their opinions at this point.

༺♡༻

[bela-enfurecida]

How they react when they see the person they like touching something important to them.

Warning: my first language is not English, so there may be some mistakes or things that don't make much sense.

Light Yagami

If you know what the notebook does and actively go looking for it to use it, he would completely lose his composure if he saw you touching the Death Note. That cold stare and his passive-aggressive attitude would be at their peak. He would be genuinely surprised, since he never leaves the notebook just lying around but keeps it carefully hidden. The simple fact that you managed to find it would already make him start searching for a new hiding place.

He would definitely threaten you, making it very clear that you should never do something like that again, and the notebook would immediately be hidden even more carefully than before.

Without a doubt, Light would never love someone enough to allow them to use his Death Note whenever they wanted. It would not be a pleasant situation at all. In fact, it would probably be intense enough to make sure you never forget the rule: never, ever touch his notebook.

Now, if you only found it by accident, his reaction would be different. Internally he would still panic, running through one of those dramatic internal monologues he always has. Externally, however, he would remain calm, quickly saying something to distract you from the notebook while casually moving it somewhere else later.

L Lawliet

Stealing his desserts is not a good idea. Never take strawberries from the greatest detective in the world. It is simply not wise.

Jokes aside, L would not care that much if it happened the first time. However, if it kept happening, by the fourth or fifth time he would start pulling the dessert plate away before you could grab a piece.

Eventually, he would probably have Watari bring an extra portion specifically for you. He might also start stealing some of your desserts in return as a form of “compensation.”

Near (Nate River)

If you simply picked up one of his toys to play with, Near would pause for a second, slightly intrigued. After all, people on the team who work directly with him rarely show any curiosity toward the toys he uses while thinking.

He would observe you for a moment, and if you were just casually playing with it, he would simply ignore it and return to whatever he was doing before.

However, if you approached him to play together, things might be different. If he is not busy with an important case, he might quietly accept and continue playing beside you. He would remain silent, as usual, but internally he would feel a little pleased to have his routine unexpectedly broken by someone he likes.

Mello (Mihael Keehl)

Chocolate is a very serious matter for Mello. He would definitely share it with you, but there would be a few exceptions. If it were a rare or very expensive brand, he would reluctantly give you a tiny piece.

Everything else, though? You can eat as much as you want. He practically keeps a small stockpile of chocolate anyway, and he can always buy more.

Besides, he has a particular weakness for kissing you and tasting chocolate on your lips. For him, it is basically combining two of his favorite things in one moment.

Matt (Mail Jeevas)

Matt is the type of guy who would not mind sharing his games, especially because he enjoys competing with you and often turning it into a small bet. Most of the time he would still win, of course.

However, if he were feeling particularly generous, he might even lose a match on purpose just to see a small smile on your face.

And depending on his mood, he might try to negotiate a rematch later… somewhere a little more private than the living room.

[doeeyed-girl]

I just rewatched death note and of course my big ass crush for L came back but I can’t really find any fics that I like because I’m pretty picky about them. Does anyone know a fic (preferably one with many long chapters) in which the reader is a detective working along with L and they have a secret relationship and they don’t let anyone know even though it’s kind of obvious because they’re always side by side following the anime’s story. It’s okay even if it has smut, I don’t really care about it.

Thank you so much if you know any fic like this I literally had to go back to wattpad to find something that I liked but I didn’t really find anything and I’m STARVING for fan fictions

[passionateseadruid]

Okay but Imaging Yandere Vox x Willing Reader

he uses hypnotism on them for years, never really knowing if they would truly stay if he ever stopped. Let’s say to keep it going he has to do it daily, because it gets really draining on him if he hast to do it for such long periods of time so it has to be refreshed every day.

Let’s say that either after a particularly bad fight with Alastor, or just him being overworked he ends up, passing out and having to sleep for a whole day.

The moment he wakes up, he starts to panic. What if they left him?!

he turns to a side and there you are.

he looks at you in shock and disbelief asking “Why are you still here? You aren’t under my hypnotism?”

“What Hypnotism?” You tilt your head.

turns out you were just so in love with him that it basically didn’t even take affect.

[beautyqueenforbes]

the poison you know

vox, valentino, & velvette x f!reader - being forced to take the meds you hate

warnings/tags: suggestive content (nsfw), coercion, breath control, manipulation, choking, daddy kink, power imbalance, no use of y/n, dead dove (do not eat)

a/n: i hate taking meds. would probably hate it less if one of these three was making me. but anyways, that's what inspired this one! divided into three parts, for each vee. i'm still working on a sequel to a small taste - and on compiling an official masterlist! (also, i am open to requests! ♡) lastly, this will be cross-posted on ao3 - feel free to check me out there!

VOX

“You’re being a fucking brat,” Vox chides, his impressive stature hovering over you. He could just hypnotize you, and this would all be over with, but he likes it when you comply without his “help.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you retort, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. “It’s just one day. They make me feel fuzzy—”

“No.” His tone is firm, leaving no room for argument, not that that would dissuade you. With a sigh, Vox fixes his gaze back on you, expression softening. “You know it’s for your own good, right, baby?” A clawed hand comes to rest on your cheek, rubbing soothing circles into the soft flesh there.

“Please. I don’t want to. Not today,” you plead, gazing up at him earnestly.

Another sigh, and his expression shifts from placating to something dangerous. Something intolerant. “I’m fucking sick of arguing with you. Either you take the meds yourself, or I’m making you.”

That earns him a glare, and you stare up at him, defiant.

“Have it your way then.”

You’re fast, but he’s faster. The grip on your cheek turns harsh, and his other hand comes up on the other side, prying your mouth open. Your cries of protest come out awkward and garbled as the hand you hadn’t realized was holding the little pills you so despised forces its way into your mouth, depositing them on your tongue.

Drool pools from your lips as you try to spit them out in spite of your position, but Vox presses them into your tongue, gagging you. The entire exchange is quick, and then one hand, claws coated in your saliva, presses in over your mouth, and the other pinches your nose. You make a pathetic sound of distress, thrashing beneath him.

Vox is calm and collected, unbothered by your resistance – at least outwardly. You aren’t strong enough to fight him off, not by a long shot, and he is patient as he waits for you to slump in defeat.

“You wanna breathe, you swallow,” he commands.

Again, he could easily hypnotize you and be done with it, but where’s the fun in that? He likes watching you struggle underneath him. Every thrash sends another throb of desire to his cock, and his willpower on not forcing you further into submission as he rips the pretty little outfit from your tight little body is quickly eroding.

Your vision swims, black dots dancing across your sight. Your throat contracts around nothing as you struggle for air, and at some point, the pills go down, choking you.

Vox assess the movement of your throat as you swallow, waits for half a beat for good measure, and then releases your nose and mouth. You gasp desperately, hot tears welling in your eyes that Vox is quick to wipe away, now gentle again.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he admonishes you, tone soft. “I don’t want to hurt you.” A lie. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

You’re still gasping, staring up at him incredulously. He doesn’t mind – he’s gotten what he wanted.

“You swallowed them all, yeah? Open up, let me see.”

You whine again, and he gazes down at you, ever patient, a dangerous glint in his eye daring you to defy him. This time, you choose obedience, and you part your lips, letting his fingers intrude to search along your tongue. Finding nothing, he grins.

“Good girl.”

VALENTINO

“Baby,” Valentino coos, looming over you. “Care to tell me what that little fucking outburst back there was about?”

You’re on your back beneath him, wishing you could sink further into the couch underneath you as he assesses you with the cold gaze of a predator. “I-I’m sorry, Val,” you babble. “I didn’t mean – ”

“Of course you didn’t, querida,” he drawls. “You never mean to.”

He turns away from you, and you take a deep, short-lived breath of relief, hoping that despite his frustrations, you had caught him at a more reasonable moment.

That hope dies when he turns back to you, brandishing a small vial of garnet liquid.

“Open up,” he commands, stalking towards you.

You scramble back against the couch, finding nowhere to go. “Wait, Val, please,” you plead. “Please, you know how it makes me feel. I’ll be good. I’ll be better. I promise.”

“It’s a little late to start begging, though I do love the sound,” he responds, closing the distance between you in a single stride. You forget, sometimes, how much larger than you he is – his impressive frame dwarfs you entirely, making you really feel the permeation of helplessness spread through your entire body. It’s not the only sensation that seizes you, however; your thighs squeeze together instinctively. You’ve been well-trained to get off at the suggestion of fear.

It doesn’t escape Valentino’s notice, and his grin widens further, revealing the glint of his gold tooth. You can see your pathetic expression in the reflection of his heart-shaped glasses.

“Valentino, please,” you try again, almost sobbing. You had once welcomed the proposition of substances, back when the world of pornography was new and exciting and you suddenly had everything you could ever want for at your fingertips. You had quickly abandoned your interest, however, finding a distaste for how fuzzy and dulled it made you feel, but the way it made you so, so pliant and obedient to him was something Valentino had developed a taste for, especially with your proclivity to act out.

“Say it again,” he demands.

A distant hope blooms – perhaps your pleas are getting through to him. You stare up him with glassy eyes, before opening your mouth.

You don’t make it through the full syllable before Valentino has popped the top on the vial and shoved it past your lips.

You cry out in surprise, though muffled, as he tilts the contents of the vial on to your tongue. It sits there, saccharine sweet as you resist the urge to swallow.

Valentino notices that, too.

A hand is suddenly around your throat, squeezing, hard enough to leave marks. You gurgle a pained sound with the liquid in your mouth, clawing at his wrist.

“Swallow or choke. Up to you, princesa,” he snarls.

The moment stretches on agonizingly long as you stare up at him in defiance, his grip growing ever tighter. But your bravado dies with your rapidly depleting air supply, and your vision swims with black.

You swallow, painfully so.

Valentino feels the movement of your throat under his grip, and looks you over, satisfied. “Open, let me see,” he commands.

You stick your tongue out, letting him assess that you have downed the viscous liquid to his satisfaction. He hums his approval, dragging a clawed finger along the length of your tongue.

“Hmm, good girl,” he coos. “Now was that so hard?”

You shake your head, knowing what he wants from you, though you can’t conceal the tears that fall as you do.

His brings two hands to either side of your face, gently wiping at the tears, before popping a finger in his mouth to taste the salty liquid. He seems even more pleased, were that possible, before returning to his ministrations of attending to the teardrops dripping down your cheeks.

“Aww, pobrecita, do you need daddy to make you feel better?” he murmurs.

You nod, again acquiescing to the obedience you know he wants to see. His hand lowers to your lips, a claw pressing down at the seam between them.

“You’ve been so good, baby. Let me reward you with something else for that pretty mouth to do.”

VELVETTE

“I don’t know why you’re being such a baby about this,” Velvette says with a roll of her eyes, though she doesn’t look up from her phone. While she taps away, drafting a new post, her other hand is extended towards you, a small pile of pills resting in the palm of her finger-less leather gloves, the wrists adorned with glittering diamond spikes. (She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing rhinestones – for one, they were tacky as fuck. And why would she bother with the fake stuff when she could afford every precious gem and metal available on the market? Wearing the real shit sent a statement.)

“You know I hate them, Vel,” you complain. “They make me feel less...me.” Appealing to the empathy of any of the Vees is a tough ask, but Velvette has always been all about individuality...well, as long as it agreed with her impeccable taste.

No such luck.

“Yeah, and when you don’t take them, you’re a fucking brat,” she counters. You press your lips together to swallow down your retort – pissing her off isn’t going to win her over to your side.

“Come on, please? Just this once?”

She does so like it when you beg.

Still not tearing her eyes from her screen, Velvette hums in consideration, before angling her camera towards you.

“Stop making that fucking face and smile, babe,” she demands.

You don’t acquiesce, giving her a deadpan glare even as the camera flashes in your face. A frown crosses her pretty features as Velvette inspects the photo.

“Ugh, I can’t even use this,” she grumbles. “You look fucking constipated. You’d be lucky to get one like. One!”

“God, can you not be such a fucking cunt about this for one goddamn second?”

The room goes silent. Velvette’s eyes snap to you, her gaze burning with fury. You don’t talk to her like that. Ever.

“That’s fucking it.”

Velvette stands, discarding her phone on the overstuffed sofa with a thump. She stalks towards you.

“Vel, look, I’m sorry,” you start. “Please, what are you even – ?”

“Oh, shut it. It’s a little late for that now.”

The petite overlord seizes the back of your head, yanking you forward, while she uses her free hand to shove the pills past your lips. You can taste the mix of bitter medicine and new leather.

You cry out, though it’s muffled by her fingers in your mouth, shoving the pills towards the back of your tongue. “I hate that you’re making me do this,” she declares, though a glance at the predatory glint in her eyes tells you that that isn’t entirely true.

“Swallow,” she commands, and as hot tears gush down your cheeks, you swallow around her fingers, the taste of this pills acrid on your tongue.

Velvette retracts her hand, shaking the saliva off with a flick of her wrist and a look of disgust. As you try to suppress your coughing, she stares you down, unimpressed, before retrieving her phone from the couch.

“Fuck, get yourself together, babe,” she admonishes, before brandishing her camera your way once again. “And this time, when I tell you to smile, fucking smile.”

[queenofmorningstar]

OOOOOO! May we please have Vees fluff where they come home from the battle with Alastor & reader was worried for their safety? However discovering they're not only okay but got Alastor, she embraces them all in a kiss and hug. (From Reader is from the Vee au)

The Vees x Reader

The clock on the wall had ticked itself hoarse. Every second since they’d left had dragged like hours. You’d tried to sit still, but the silence of the penthouse was unbearable—too big, too cold without them.

A battle with Alastor wasn’t some casual street scuffle. Even for the Vees, it was dangerous. The Radio Demon didn’t play fair.

You bit your nail, a nervous habit. You'd almost pleaded with them to take you with them.

"But I won't even participate! I'll just watch from the sidelines, and be very perfectly hidden." You'd tried to reassure them.

"Uh-huh nope, babe. You're not going anywhere near danger." Velvette shook her head. "Don't worry about your sweet little head over it. It's just a walk in the park!"

"That's right! No need to leave the comfort of our place for that smiling freak." Vox's claws came on your shoulders. "And besides, we need someone here to hold the fort."

You'd sighed as you adjusted Vox's bowtie and reloaded Val's guns and handed it to him.

"Gracias, querida." Val grinned.

You startled out of your thoughts as you heard the V tower's door bang open, and relief swept over you as you saw Vox and the other two Vees wall behind him.

“Holy fuck! Everyone out—look who I have! Ah-ha-ha!” Vox spun a chair into the middle of the room.

Seated in it...arms tied neatly behind his back, a thick blue plate clamped over his mouth, was Alastor. The metal plate on his mouth had a drawn-on frown.

Your body finally moved before your brain did—you ran forward, half-angry, half-relieved, and threw yourself into Vox’s chest.

He caught you with a startled “whoa!” as you buried your face into his suit. His screens dimmed slightly, the usual glitchy static softening to a low hum. “Easy there, sweetheart.”

"I'm glad you're all okay." You turned towards the other two.

You threw yourself at them, wrapping your arms around whoever you could reach first. It ended up as a messy pile—Vox’s arm circling your waist, Velvette leaning in with a laugh, Val’s huge hand settling over all three of you.

Vox was still speaking to others, giving orders, but the moment you cupped his face, the gaze steadied on you. You pressed your lips to his.

Velvette snorted. “Gross. Move over.”

She leaned forward before you could even turn, hands on your cheeks, grin softening. Her kiss was quick, playful, and a little glitter-sticky from her lip gloss. When she pulled back, she winked.

Then came Valentino.

He was watching you with that familiar glint—half-predator, half-man-on-the-verge-of-melting. You could already see the possessiveness flickering in his eyes, the way his gloved fingers twitched like he was holding himself back.

When you stepped into his space, his smirk faltered for the briefest second. You cupped his jaw and kissed him slow, deep, tasting smoke and iron and adrenaline. He growled low in his chest, one hand gripping your waist.

Behind you, a disgusted grunt broke the moment.

You turned. Alastor sat exactly where Vox had left him, chair scuffed from how hard he’d tried to twist free. The metal plate on his mouth muffled what sounded suspiciously like a groan of disgust.

“Oh—sorry um Radio Demon...sir!” you said, taking a small step back from the Vees. “No PDA, got it!”

Vox huffed. "Darling."

"What?"

"Don't apologise to the captive."

"Oh yes, sorry."

[lovetrouble123]

There May Or May Not Be A Giant Hole In Vox’s Office, But Don’t Worry About It

Synopsis: Vox finally looses his breaking point when his partner puts a hole in this office wall just to see Shok.Wav

TW: possible suggestive content?

A/N: Ditzy! Shark Overlord Reader| Staticmoth!!! RAAAAAAHHHH

TV, Sharks & Moths Masterlist

Masterlist

Vox rarely brought work home.

He had built his Voxtek Entertainment with the sole purpose of control, as well on the foundation of the Vee’s to interact only when it benefits them. Vox made it abundantly clear that business and personal relationships didn’t mix.

Vox’s personal space was meant to be a quiet and controlled sanctuary, free of (most) idiots who somehow managed to call themselves Voxtek employees, even though they were always incompetent.

But today had been a circus of incompetence, which left Vox to pick up the pieces himself. “If you want something done right, do it yourself.”

Vox sat on his bed, claws tapping on holographic screens as document after document was signed. It was evident that Vox was annoyed, even stressed at how incapable his employees were, but when soft kisses reached his shoulder…maybe it wasn’t all bad.

“Relax, baby,” Valentino softly said.

“You would not believe the incompetence—.”

“I can believe it.” Valentino hummed, slipping an arm around his boyfriend as he brought him closer. “You should really take a break though…I don’t like seeing you all stressed.”

“I need to finish this, Val.” Vox protested, but instinctively he leaned into his partners touch. “It’s important.”

“Then keep working.” Valentino replied, “but I get to cuddle you. Besides, you and I both know you work better when I’m around~.”

“You make it sound like I’m clingy.”

“You are. You came to me cause you wanted attention.”

“All I needed was someone who wouldn’t give me a headache.”

Valentino reached a hand up and gently flicked one of his antennas. “I know you, baby.”

Finally, Vox sighed in defeat. “Fine. I just…needed motivational assistance.”

“That’s what I thought.” Valentino smirked, “and luckily, you have the best motivator in all of Hell.”

Vox didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders relaxed under Valentino’s touch.

The holographic screen illuminated their bodies in shades of blue with contracts reflecting off Valentino’s heart shaped sunglasses. He usually didn’t wear them around Vox, at least not while cuddling, but the light on his screens was so bright that Valentino knew he’d be useless without his sunglasses.

Stupid moth.

But Vox kept scrolling, swiping, reviewing and signing as one of Valentino’s hands found Vox’s chest before trailing down to rest on his thigh.

A not so subtle reminder that he was there.

“Do you want me to read the next one?” Valentino offered, “I bet I can do a sexy businessman voice.”

“No.”

“Then let me help some other way~,” Valentino purred, his hand trailing higher up Vox’s thigh. “Like I said, I’m great at giving motivation~.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Valentino removed his hand and hugged Vox closer to him. “Does this mean you’ll give me a chance later?”

“Work first, Val.” Vox reminded him. “But…you are making this more bearable.”

Valentino blinked before smiling—slow, proud and warm. “It’s my job to.”

“And what exactly does your job description entail?” Vox asked, signing another document.

“To be sexy as Hell for my boyfriend, cuddly when he needs me to be, and to take care of him when he looks like he wants to murder every single fucking person in sight.” Valentino finished before adding how ‘hot’ his boyfriend was when he got like this.

Just then, a loud thump was heard outside Vox’s bedroom.

It was a loud thump. Once. Then twice. Then three times.

“Alright, who the fuck is making all that noise?!” Vox asked, voice glitching as he dismissed the holographic screens and got up, pulling away from Valentino’s grasp.

The two Overlords walked out of the room, one breaming with curiosity while the other looked like he was about a minute away from killing whoever was bothering him.

But as the two entered the main room, they were met with their partner and fellow Overlord, Y/N, swimming around in one of Vox’s aquatic walls.

“What the fuck are you doing in Shok.Wav’s tank?!” Vox yelled, his voice glitching out.

“Vox!” Y/N excitedly began, “did you know that Shok.Wav said he was lonely?!”

“Shok.Wav doesn’t talk, honey—.”

“Yeah he does!” She nodded, turning to look at Shok.Wav who nudged her. “See? Lonely!”

As Vox’s screen glitched, Valentino stood beside him watching his girlfriend who was swimming on the other side of the tank. “Oh, that’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable.” Vox snapped, storming over to the tank and tapping a finger repeatedly against the glass. “Get out of the tank! Why would you—? How did you even get in there?!”

Y/N showed her hand. “I used my claws…you may have a leak in your office now.”

“You put a hole in his tank?!” Vox screamed while Valentino cackled behind him.

“It’s a small hole.” Y/N assured, “well…big enough that I could get through it.”

“Why would you—?!” Vox glitched before taking a breath, trying to calm himself down before his system shut down. “Sweetheart, I love you…but this is highly unacceptable.”

Y/N blinked at Vox, staring at him before a frown pulled at her lips. “But why? I did it because Shok.Wav was sad. I don’t want him being sad.”

“What you are doing is a liability.” Vox explained, “if Shok.Wav wanted to, he could eat you—.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“No, he wouldn’t. But he is still a predator, my dear.”

Y/N flipped herself upside down, “are you mad at me?”

“Very.”

“No you’re not.” Valentino chimed in.

“I am.” Vox glitched looking at Valentino.

“Bullshit. Just admit that you aren’t.”

“I’m moderately worried,” Vox sighed.

Y/N spun around and placed her hand on the glass. “You don’t have to worry, Vox. I can handle myself. Besides, if he bit me, I’d just bite him back!”

“That is not comforting,” Vox admitted.

“Look how happy she is, Vox.” Valentino pointed out, “are you really going to take this from her?”

“I absolutely would.” Vox snapped, pointing over at Y/N as he looked at Valentino. “She could be eaten alive if Shok.Wav was prompted to, and she put a hole in my office that—!”

Behind Vox, Y/N blew bubbles at him.

“Baby, she’s blowing kisses at you!” Valentino exclaimed causing Vox to turn his attention back to Y/N who, sure enough, was blowing him bubble kisses through the tank.

Vox stared at Y/N. He wanted to be mad at her, rip her out of the tank and yell at her for her (adorable) stupidity. But with a sigh, he gave in.

“Soooo, does this mean you’re not mad anymore?”

“It means that I’m choosing not to have a full system shut down.”

“He’s saying that he loves you, babe.”

“Aw, I love you too, Vox!”

Shok.Wav nudged Y/N again causing her to giggle and reach a hand out to his snout. “See? No biting. No harm. He was just sad and—.”

“You crawled into a predators tank,” Vox cut in. “With your bare hands and now my office is probably destroyed—.”

“I’ll help clean it up!” She offered.

“The last time you tried to help clean up, you ruined Val’s bedroom,” Vox deadpanned.

“But it was so worth it,” Valentino moaned, reminiscing.

“Will you just…get out?” Vox asked, exasperated.

Y/N hummed. “Okay!” She placed a kiss onto Shok.Wav’s snout before placing her claws over the tank, creating a circle large enough for her body to go through.

“Wait—! Don’t you put another fucking—!”

But it was too late because Y/N had already made the hole and slipped through it as water gushed out of it. She landed on the floor before quickly getting up and wrapping her arms around Vox, kissing his screen.

“Shok.Wav says he loves you, by the way.”