His New High

his new high

Warnings: DUB-CON, Organized-Crime, Drug (Shimmer) Use, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness

Summary ~ You soothed his pain in a way shimmer never could, and now he’d rather destroy your dreams than watch you leave his arms.

The first time Silco saw you, it was in the fading light of a backroom chem lab. You were bent over a half-conscious man, stitching his torn arm with mechanical precision. His screams filled the room, curses and desperate pleas, but you remained calm, steady, your voice soothing. There was no hesitation in your movements, no tremor in your hands. You didn’t look up when he entered. Not even when the room fell into that particular kind of silence, the delirious ramblings of the injured man fading as he slipped into unconsciousness. It was the kind of silence that settled when someone powerful walks in.

You didn’t fear him. That was your first mistake.

“Most people flinch,” he said eventually, his voice a smooth rich timber. One eye gleamed with an unsettling interest. The other was ruined, unblinking.

You tied off the final stitch and set the needle aside. “Then most people aren’t busy saving someone’s life.”

Silco smiled, it wasn’t a kind smile.

He started showing up more often, sometimes to have you patch up one of his men, stitch a wound, or set a broken limb. Then came the calls for help with research, concoctions, healing. Gradually, he began to trust you enough to assist him in administering shimmer to his red eye. He always had a reason. But over time, those reasons began to wear thin. You were sharp enough to notice

“You don’t need me, Silco,” you told him one evening, after his lieutenant left with freshly bandaged ribs. “You just want something.”

He stepped closer, the scent of smoke and oil clinging to him, the faint metallic tang of shimmer still lingering around his skin.

“And you’re so sure that’s a bad thing?” he murmured. “Wanting something.”

The obsession wasn’t sudden. It was a drip. Slow. Poisoned.

A package on your desk one morning, a vial of rare solvent, only available in Piltover, wrapped in black silk. A gift of soft velvet-lined gloves, with a note: “To protect your hands. We can’t afford to lose them.”

A word to your landlord, suddenly, your rent dropped to nothing. "Consider it... gratitude," Silco’s voice had been like a velvet noose, tightening around you.

You told yourself you weren’t his. But his people stopped calling you by name. They started calling you Silco’s medic. Then, simply, Silco’s.

He kept coming back. Each time, it was a new wound, a dislocated shoulder, a burned hand, a poisoned operative. But he never left right after. He lingered, watching you as you worked. Sometimes, he brought rare supplies, claiming they were for your patients, but he always insisted on giving them to you directly.

He learned your rhythms. What made you laugh, when you skipped meals, how your brow creased when you were focused, how you chewed your lip when you were uncertain.

And somewhere in that quiet obsession, shimmer began collecting dust.

You never saw the moment it shifted. The moment his need for you went from admiration to something darker. Something possessive. Addictive.

One day, while you were restocking shimmer, you mentioned it, absently. “I’ve applied for a fellowship in Piltover. Medical sciences. If I get in... I’ll be gone for a while.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

You turned slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze, a cold burn against your skin. Silco was staring at you like you’d just ripped the breath from his lungs.

Piltover. The word alone was bile in his mouth.

“You want to leave?” he asked, too calm, like it was a simple question.

“For a year. Maybe two.”

“For them?”

“No. For me.”

He stepped closer. You could feel the heat of him now, the tension building between you. “You don’t need that. Everything you’ve built ... we've built, it’s here. These people need you. I need—”

He stopped himself, like he was choking on the words.

You stared. “You need...?”

He looked away, jaw clenched, before answering coldly, “The undercity needs you.”

But the lie hung in the air, thick and suffocating, like smoke.

After that, things changed. The guards around your clinic doubled. Your mail stopped arriving.

And one morning, you found a letter from the Academy , torn at the seal, empty, discarded in your trash bin.

You confronted him, and he didn’t even pretend to be innocent.

“You belong here,” he said, they will use you. Break you. Strip you of everything that makes you... you.”

“And you won’t?” you shot back.

He stepped closer. So close that you could feel his breath on your lips. “No,” he whispered. “I’ll worship you.”

“You belong here,” he repeated, the words trembling with a quiet madness that sent a chill skittering down your spine. “With the undercity. With me. Piltover would ruin you.....strip away everything that makes you… you.”

“Ruin me?” you shot back, your voice rising as you took a defiant step toward him. “You’re the one caging me! The guards, the missing mail, this—” You thrust the torn letter toward him, your hand shaking. “You don’t get to decide my life!”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Don’t I?” he murmured, closing the gap between you with a predator’s grace. The heat of his body was suffocating, the scent of him, smoke, oil, and that faint metallic tang, wrapping around you like a chain. His hand rose, fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that felt like a lie, a trap disguised as affection. “Everything I’ve done, the rare solvents, the gloves, your rent, it was for you. Because you’re mine.”

You jerked away, but the examination table pressed against the backs of your thighs, cold and unyielding, trapping you in his orbit. “I’m not yours,” you said, your voice wavering despite your resolve. “I’m not some… thing you can own, Silco. This is obsession, it’s not love. It’s control.”

His hand froze, his expression flickering...pain, anger, then something deeper, more unhinged. “Control?” he echoed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “No, my dear. It’s devotion.” He stepped closer, his body crowding yours, his breath hot against your lips. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The way we fit. The way you calm the storm inside me.” His fingers slid to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair, not pulling but holding you in place, anchoring you to him. “You’re my salvation.”

Your heart pounded, a traitor that refused to still. You wanted to push him away, to scream, but his proximity, the raw intensity of his gaze, stirred something within you, fear, yes, but also a flicker of something else, something you couldn’t name. “You’re wrong,” you said, but the words lacked conviction, your voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushed the pulse point at your throat, and you hated the way your body responded, a shiver racing through you, warm and treacherous.

“Liar,” he purred, his lips grazing your ear, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. “You’ve never flinched from me before, not when you stitched my men, not when you held my gaze while dosing my eye. Why now?” His hand tightened in your hair, tilting your head back, exposing the vulnerable curve of your throat. His lips brushed there, a fleeting kiss that made you gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing his coat, unsure whether to push or pull. “Because you know what I want… and part of you wants it too.”

“No,” you said, louder, shoving against his chest. But he was immovable, a wall of lean muscle and unshakable will. His free hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your waist, possessive and warm. The touch was electric, and you shuddered, caught between revulsion and a spark that flickered low in your belly. “Silco, stop,” you said, your voice trembling. “This isn’t right.”

His eyes softened for a moment, a glimpse of the man who’d once brought you rare supplies, who’d watched you work with quiet reverence. But the darkness surged back, drowning that fleeting light. “Right?” he murmured, his voice a low growl that vibrated through you. “Nothing in this world is right. But you… you’re perfect.” His lips crashed against yours, not gentle but desperate, hungry, as if he could consume you, bind you to him through sheer force of will.

You turned your head, breaking the kiss, but he didn’t stop. His mouth moved to your jaw, your neck, leaving a trail of bruising kisses that drew a whimper from your lips. His hand slid higher, pushing your shirt up to expose the soft skin of your stomach, his fingers tracing the curve of your ribs with a reverence that belied the coercion. “Silco, please,” you said, but the words were a plea, not a command, and he heard it.

“You say no, but your body begs for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with triumph. His hand cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your undershirt, his thumb brushing over your nipple, coaxing it to a peak. He groaned against your skin, the sound raw and primal, and you hated the way it sent a pulse of heat between your thighs. “You’re mine,” he said, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, his touch both gentle and demanding, a paradox that left you dizzy.

You pushed at him again, but your hands faltered, your resolve fraying under the onslaught of sensation. His other hand moved lower, deft fingers unbuttoning your pants, slipping inside to find you already wet, a betrayal that made him groan low in his throat. “See?” he said, his voice a dark caress. “You want this. You want me.”

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head, but your body was a traitor, responding to his touch with a heat you couldn’t deny. His fingers teased you, slow and deliberate, coaxing pleasure you didn’t want to feel. “Silco, please,” you said, but the words were softer now, your voice breaking as he pushed you toward an edge you didn’t want to cross.

“Tell me you want this,” he said, pulling back to meet your gaze, his good eye dark with need, the ruined one a void that seemed to swallow your protests. “Tell me, and I’ll make it good for you.”

You stared at him, torn between the fear in your heart and the heat in your body. “I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what you wanted. The uncertainty was a crack in your armor, and Silco seized it.

He kissed you again, softer this time, but no less possessive, his tongue exploring your mouth as his fingers worked you, pushing you closer to a precipice. When he pulled back, he lifted you onto the examination table, the cold metal biting into your bare skin, baring you to his hungry gaze. His hands were everywhere, on your thighs, your hips, your breasts, claiming every inch of you as he spread your legs and stepped between them.

His trousers were already undone, his cock hard and heavy against your thigh, and you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, unsure whether you were pulling him closer or pushing him away. “I’ll worship you,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he positioned himself at your entrance. He entered you slowly, deliberately, each inch a claim, a promise, a curse. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you, the stretch both painful and intoxicating.

He moved with a reverence that belied the coercion, his thrusts deep and measured, his hands cradling your face as if you were something precious, something sacred. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a low chant as he drove into you, each movement pushing you closer to an edge you couldn’t escape. And as pleasure built despite your protests, you felt yourself unraveling, giving in to the storm that was Silco, his touch, his voice, his obsession.

He didn’t shoot shimmer anymore.

He had traded one addiction for another.

You were his new high now.

“Jealous” Aizawa?

This was a Patron request and was available to them 2 weeks early.

Unedited drabble uhh idk some D/s stuff, fem reader, etc.

“How do we make Aizawa Jealous?”

IMO? you can’t.

Aizawa is a man of composure, confidence, and, most importantly, he doesn’t tolerate manipulative bullshit.

If you’re one of the lucky few he’s given glimpse at his true self, it would be the ultimate betrayal for you to try and make him jealous. Aizawa would drop you like a bad habit.

Now, that doesn’t mean he’s indifferent when someone hits on you. Quite the contrary.

It’s inevitable, really. You’re smart, beautiful, and it’s natural for young bucks to try challenging the stag in charge eventually.

And god damn does he enjoy watching it all go down.

It’s almost like he sets it up, really. A night out on the town, just you and him in some college bar at the heart of the city. He watches you like a hawk when you step up to the counter to ask your waitress for a refill, the clever hero smirking all the while.

It doesn’t take long for a guy to try his luck when he thinks that you’re alone. Aizawa chuckles against the rim of his glass, taking a leisurely sip. He already knows how you’ll react.

Shyly, you tuck a strand of hair that’s not even there behind your ear. You thank him for the offer to buy you a drink, but naturally, decline. And, of course, the stranger doesn’t take the hint.

Shouta polishes off his drink in one swallow. He moves quietly anyway, but beneath the speaker’s bass you never hear him coming. A soft squeak escapes you as his unexpected hand slips around your waist, pulling you against him.

He doesn’t have to say anything.

With no further trouble, the guy shrugs, walks off, and makes his way to the other side of the bar to rejoin his drunken friends, leaving you to the mercy of your lover.

Aizawa’s incredibly proud of you. Anyone with functioning vision would’ve considered the guy a pretty decent catch. Despite this, you didn’t give him the time of day.

You’re antsy the whole way home.

As you start to unwind in your shared bedroom, Aizawa grins when your hand slips up his chest and you look to him with pleading eyes. You’re only human, he thinks. It’s natural that some sexual attention got you all revved up.

With a hum he brings his fingers to grip your chin, looking down at you through hooded, smiling eyes.

“Does my girl need some attention..?"

Bringing his mouth down to your ear, he gives the lobe a gentle nip. You shudder and moan.

"I suppose it is time to reward my pet for being such a good girl.”

By the time Aizawa’s through with you, it’ll be a long while before you’re able to string your thoughts together.

Shouta Aizawa doesn’t get jealous. He just rewards good behavior generously.

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black-noir-ink

7 months ago

Sullied

Day 3. He's a devil, mind the tags. Today's song is The Wolf by Phildel.

It was alien, feeling the soft squishiness of her stomach in his hands. They radiated heat, pressing insistently to keep her back flush against his body, even as he surrounded her, engulfed her entirely, folded his wings around her. She could see nothing but red, feel nothing but fire, hear nothing but the involuntary cries from her lips and the deep croon of his voice praising her.

She had long since melted into a thoughtless, selfish thing, a puppet under his hands, her ears tuned to his next command. She was hot and wet and wanting and she hated herself. She hated herself every time she came back, as he knew she would. She'd return again, repeat the cycle, return to the surface as though she weren't tainted.

Or she told herself she hated, anyway.

Here, she was no hope, no leader. Simply his.

'Oh, if they could see you now,' he growled in her ear, the vicious sharpness of his claws keeping her anchored in the present as they danced over her belly, toyed with ripping it open. 'Their supposed saviour at my mercy.' He trailed a hand up to her throat, held it tightly, fine as glass in his grip. The other wound into her hair and pulled; her screams turned to sobs of pleasure-pain, choked off with a mere flex of his fingers. 'I love hearing you cry for me,' he purred. 'You precious, beautiful little liar.'

'Don't- get used to it-' she choked out, just barely audible. 'I fucking hate you.'

He laughed, threw back his horned head and cackled joyously, released her throat and listened as she sucked in air in desperate gasps. 'I know. Don't you worry, little mouse. I won't tell anyone what you look like when you leave me. I didn't last time, either. Although...' he pulled her up, turned her head to smirk down at her. 'Perhaps this time I'll make you stay.' He crushed their lips together, invaded her mouth with a tongue that knew it by heart.

'You- can't-' she ground out between thrusts as they broke apart. 'They- they'd all-'

'Die, yes,' he whispered. 'And who would explain the reason? What would they say?'

'You- can't- keep me here-'

'The way you're taking my cock like a greedy little whore begs to differ, darling apple of my eye.'

'The last time-'

He bit down on her shoulder, lapped at her blood with lashing tongue. His hum of pleasure quaked her whole body and she came again; she'd lost count now, tears and sweat falling to the deep red covers.

'No,' he snarled as she went limp underneath him, pulling her up like she was nothing but a doll. 'You're mine. I'm done playing games, little pup. You'll return to the surface when you admit it, and not before.'

'I'll never be yours,' she whimpered, exhausted.

'Pity,' with a last hard thrust he came inside her, his weight pinning her to the bed. The devil pulled out of her, flipped her onto her back to see the blazing passion of hate in her eyes. He stroked her sweat-soaked hair off her forehead, admired his handiwork: a patchwork of bruises and bites, though she'd given as good as she got, and the soft swell of her belly filled with him, over and over and over again- spilled out between her thighs, onto the sheets. She was almost celestial like this, the radiance of her.

Sullied, again.

They both knew there would be a next time. They both knew she would not return to her friends.

If she had the energy, she might have tried... but he was whispering softly, lying as easy as breathing; she played the same game- knew they meant nothing to one another- and yet he soothed her into sleep, all the same.

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @lastlight-inn

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck

46 notes View Post

black-noir-ink

4 years ago

In The Dark

Shadow Monster Aizawa x Reader

A collab piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten Citrus Dome Server

Read the other entries HERE

Warnings: somnophilia, dub-con, non-con, tetraphilia eeee tentaicles kind of? Monster fucking, manipulation, tiny little sprinkling of yandere if you squint.

5kish words

@bobawithpomegranate & @miscellaneous-bnha thanks for keeping me from jumping off a bridge. This was surprisingly very challenging to write so i hope you guys enjoy.

Keep reading

1K notes View Post

black-noir-ink

4 years ago

Dirty Old Man

Pairing: Kenny Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Dubcon themes in the beginning (it’s later all consensual), Knifeplay (to remove clothing), Captivity/Kidnapping, Slapping, Daddy Kink, Some Assplay, Gagging (on fingers), Choking, One mention of blood, A little bit of bondage, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Age Gap, Kenny is a dirty old man.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: It’s late, but it’s here! Here’s my part to the Smut Pile’s Western Collab! Please heed the warnings. Kenny is disgusting and I’m disgusting but here we are, fucking Kenny.

“I told you to stop running away. I’m gettin’ real fuckin’ tired of chasin you down.” Kenny spit the words out like poison, crouching in front of you to place the tip-end of his knife against your corseted chest as a warning.

You attempted a protest, but the makeshift gag made out of a torn piece of your skirts kept you virtually silent. Your wrists were burning, the rope around them scratching against your skin behind your back. The inn he’d taken you to for the night was damp and dirty, the floor you were tossed into reeking of piss and sour bourbon.

He had come for you again. You’d had some wistful doubt that he wouldn’t, but like always, he’d tracked you down as easily as hunters do footprints in thick snow. He’d followed your trail and bound you with that thick rope of braided hemp he always kept at his side. Evading him was never easy, but you thought you’d gotten away with it this time when you’d found a meager orphanage to cook at. He hated children—you thought he’d never set foot in the place, but reckoning had come for you in the early hours of the morning, with a dark shadow moving in the corner of the kitchens.

“You never fuckin’ learn. Maybe this time I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

Keep reading

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black-noir-ink

1 year ago

GN tiefling TAV who basically tames Raphael. Like TAV treats him like a dog and Raphael just gives in. I just like the idea of Raphael the powerful devil being 'domesticated' by his lover🤭NSFW perhaps?

Obedience (Raphael x GN Tiefling Reader)

Author's Note: As soon as I got this ask, I had an image in my mind and I hope it lives up to expectations. Thanks for the request, darling. Thanks for reading, friends! *Also smut, degradation, and wicked fun.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

"Tav!"

Your foot ceased its rapping on the floor.

"Yes? Sorry."

"What's got you so worked up, soldier?"

Karlach's concern made you sigh and drag your hands down your face. How could you ever explain what was running through your mind?

"I've just been thinking about Raphael's deal."

Her eyes widened as she slapped her hands on her knees.

"You aren't actually thinking of taking it?"

"Ha! Hells no. But I'm tired of him. I think he's reached the end of his usefulness when it comes down to it."

"Well, we still need the hammer."

"Yes, but we didn't come all this way and go through everything we did just to not be able to steal a hammer from some puny cambion, did we?" Your sharp teeth flashed wolfishly at her. "I'll be back. I have an idea."

"Do you need backup? Hello?!"

Her voice followed you out of the room. Your daggers were still at your side in their sheaths, thank goodness. Your hands were itching for a fight, but you stayed your impulses. For now.

~~~

You slunk through Sharess' Caress, shooting a wink at the drow twins as you passed them on the staircase. Following the stairs up and out to the upper level was easy, if you didn't count all the bodies molded together along the sides and in dark corners. Thankfully you managed to slip by them and burst out through the doors into the crisp air of the evening. Turning right, you took long strides until you were right outside the Devil's Den. With a raised fist, you pounded on the door. Steps hastily came to the door, incoherent raging heard as he moved closer.

"What in the hells is the matter with- Oh, you've returned to me."

Raphael stood in the doorway, lips curled up as his face twisted into a smug smirk. Hells, I'd love to smack that expression off his face. He waited as you glared at him, curiosity piquing the longer you stood without saying a word.

"Well, are you coming in or have you just shown up to stare at me? Not that I would blame you, I am positively delightful to look at."

His pompous demeanor was the last straw. You whipped out a dagger and before he could blink, pressed it on his neck, forcing his chin back. You stepped forward, causing him to step back into the room. With a whack of your boot, you slammed the door shut and used your other hand to lock it. His eyes narrowed at you, rage simmering in their depths.

"Fine. I'll play along. What are you hoping to accomplish with this absurd stunt?"

You kept your mouth shut and walked him back until he was pressed against the wall. Your free hand started at his waist and slid up his chest and around the back of his neck. A wicked delight coursed through your body as you watched him becoming more and more unsettled the longer you kept silent.

Finally, you curled your fingers around the side of his neck and dug your nails in just enough to hurt. You brought your face close to his, cheek pressing firmly to his own. you suppressed a shudder and squeezed his neck just a mere bit more. Your tail flicked in agitation.

"I’m tired of this, Raphael. I’m tired of you following us around, tired of your meddling. What is it that you really want?"

"I didn't think you a blabbering fool," he spat. "I've told you that I will give you the hammer in exchange for the Crown of Karsus."

"Mm. I don’t think so. Do you want to know what I think? I think you want someone to play with. And I think you’ve gotten too used to playing with people and now it’s time for someone to have their turn at it."

His face contorted into a scowl.

"You insolent little beast," he snarled.

"Ha! You are absolutely right. I have no respect for you. You who sat in your palace above while my kin suffered. You who, with a wave of your hand and sign of a pen, control lives and distort them to a shadow of what they were. I won’t stand for it. You have no right," you hissed.

His hand jerked up and you slapped it away. A growl reverberated between you, both of you with your teeth bared.

"By my birth, I have every right."

"And there lies the problem," you mused. Daddy’s little boy who's upset about not getting his way. A pathetic man who knows nothing of sacrifice. Who’s never had to work for anything. Who lives on as mortals fight and die for what they believe in. You are a waste of my time, a waste of life."

"Then why did you even bother coming here?"

"Because, Raphael. I told you I wanted to play," your lips split into a wicked grin.

“You-“

You pressed even closer, lips brushing over the lobe of his ear.

“Hush now, Raphael. I meant what I said at the beginning of our journey. Speak another word and I will cut out your tongue.”

He glared at you, but remained silent.

"I want you to leave my friends and I alone. No more deals. No more tricks. You're finished. It's time for you to go back and sit among the souls you've tormented for so long."

He sneered, his lip curling up in distaste. You pressed the knife harder, a vicious gleam in your eyes as you watched a single drop of blood slide down and stain his collar. You'd come this far, why not take the risk and mess with him further? As the next drop slid down, your tongue darted out and licked a line up his neck. He looked mildly horrified as your tongue darted out to lick your lips.

"Hm. Seems you were lying to Astarion when you said your blood burned hotter than wyvern whiskey."

His hands balled into fists at his side.

"Easy now, wouldn't want you to get all... emotional."

He snapped his fingers and you swayed, clutching onto him as you were transported to the House of Hope. You tamped down your rage and nausea, holding your knife up in a fighting stance, realizing that as you'd arrived, he'd moved you further away from him.

"Out!" he yelled.

The tortured souls fled the dining room, doors shutting on their way out, leaving just the two of you facing off on opposite sides of the table.

"Put the godsdamned knife down, dear. Wouldn't want you to get hurt." He pressed his fingers to his temples and shook his head. "You're becoming more trouble than you're worth, little mouse."

You circled around the table, a fire blazing in your eyes and pointed your knife at the nearest chair.

"Sit."

He analyzed you, trying to decide his course of action.

"Fine, I'll play your little game."

He sat down with ease, but his body betrayed him. He was tensed and ready to spring if you misstepped. You sheathed your knife and held up your hands in a gesture of peace, albeit a temporary one. You spun the chair around next to his and brought it closer, dragging it across the floor. He gritted his teeth and tightened his fists on the armrests of his chair.

"Why do you insist on antagonizing the cat, little mouse?"

You grinned, leaned in close, and put your hands on his knees, squeezing and running your fingers up his thighs. He froze, eyes glued to where your touch was tracing over the smooth material of his trousers.

"You keep calling yourself a cat," you murmured. You rose slightly and moved closer, surprising even yourself as you nipped at his neck, nudging his head to the side with your long horns. Your tail snaked around his leg, squeezing tightly. "But all I see," you continued, "is a mangy cur who's all bark and no bite."

"Mangy?!" he cried, "I am not-"

You cut him off and emphasized your last word by biting down on his neck and sucking, being sure to leave a mark. Your hands danced over his legs, upward to the apex of his thighs where you grazed the tips of your fingers over where his cock lay. He jolted in the chair and you clamped both hands on his wrists. You leaned forward, forcing him back and reclaiming control of the situation.

"You sat here in your palace while my people were dragged to Avernus and suffered. And you know what? I don't think you deserve any of it," your lips drew back from your teeth as you hissed at him. "And you know what else? I think you know it. You know I'm right and that you're just a pathetic little man, trying to get his fingers into something that he is ill equipped to deal with."

Raphael's jaw dropped at your audacious remarks and you couldn't help the devilish smirk that spread across your face.

"What is it, darling? Cat got your tongue?"

You laughed and pushed away from him, pressing on his wrists as you did so. He rubbed them, easing away the ache from your rough movements, and growled lowly at you. You got on your knees and grabbed his thighs, spreading them apart.

"Unbutton your pants, Raphael."

"I beg your pardon?"

He stared down at you in disbelief as you waited expectantly. You laughed and his brows drew together in anger, the tips of his ears turning red.

"I already knew your personality was terrible, but I didn't realize it affected your hearing."

His jaw dropped as he blinked slowly at you, unsure what to make of your behavior. After a beat more of silence, his hands slowly undid the buttons and folded the flaps to the side, waiting on your next words with bated breath. You squeezed his thighs again, your hands roving over his legs as you made him wait.

"Take your cock out, Raphael."

"Has the tadpole already taken over? You've completely lost your mind," he snapped.

"Maybe so," you sighed dramatically. "I suppose you don't want me to continue, then. Alright, take me back."

He grabbed you as you began to stand. He stared down as his hand as if it had acted without his permission and groaned in frustration.

"Fine. I'll play along a bit longer," he grumbled.

You lowered once more and he paused before reaching into his trousers and taking his already hardened cock out. He pursed his lips and watched your expression for some kind of reaction. You remained blank-faced as you reached out to wrap your hand around him. He hissed through his teeth at the contact and the way you squeezed the base and twisted your hand as you went toward the head. His knees shook slightly and he slapped his hands down on his legs to keep them still. You let go of him for a moment and grabbed the sides of his trousers.

"Up."

He lifted his hips and you smirked to yourself as you tugged them down to his ankles. This was the most exposed he'd been around anyone aside from Haarlep in a very long time and he fidgeted, unsure if he would come to regret it. Your hands moved back to touch him and he grunted as you grabbed his balls. You weren't rough by any means, but you refused to let go as you squeezed.

"I didn't realize the banter was what got you going, Raphael."

Your canines poked out as you grinned and rolled them in your hand. His legs kicked slightly and you let go, surprised when a whimper slipped out of his mouth. He turned his head slightly and covered his mouth with his hand as he avoided your gaze. The blush had spread from his ears to his cheeks and now even down his neck.

"Go ahead, mongrel."

"What did you call me?"

Your hands tightened around his cock and balls as you danced along the line of pain and pleasure.

"Bark."

He laughed and leaned back in the seat.

"You can't be serious," he wheezed as you squeezed tighter.

"Deadly so, I'm afraid. And you're in quite a predicament here, so I suggest you do what I say if you'd like to keep all appendages attached."

Hatred blazed in his eyes as embarrassment covered his face. He inhaled sharply and shut his eyes for a moment before looking down at you. There was murderous intent in his gaze as he uttered, "Woof."

You laughed at him, your hands releasing him as a fit of giggles spilled from you. He decided then and there to ignore adventurers and never attempt to make deals with them ever ever again. He started to rise, but you clamped down on his knees again.

"I didn't say you could go."

"Why won't you just-"

He choked off his words as you took him in your mouth. He gripped the edges of the chair, squirming as your tongue licked up the underside. You rolled his balls in your hand, gently massaging them. His hips bucked against your mouth as you sucked hard and he gasped, beginning to reach for your horns to gain some control. At the movement of his hands, your tail rose and lashed across his palms.

"Don't. Touch. Me," you hissed as you pulled your attentions away from his swollen tip.

His eyes were wide, a spark of dread flashing quickly by. He raised his hands in surrender and put them back on the chair arms.

"Good boy," you murmured against his cock.

The words and the vibrations brushed deep inside him against his desperate desires for approval and for the way your warm mouth was pleasing his aching length. You continued on, flicking your tongue against his tip and pumping your hand up and down as he rocked lightly against your mouth. His breaths were hot and heavy as your motions sped up. He bucked wildly, trying to remain still and stay your wrath. His whines were pitiful, so fucking desperate for your touch.

His knuckles turned white from where he gripped the chair so hard to prevent himself from grabbing you. His release was near and it was coming hard. With a final twist of your wrist under the flared head, he came, spurting into your mouth. He groaned as he slumped against the back of the chair, his mind spinning wildly. His chest heaved as he stared down at you, hair slightly mussed and cheeks heating.

You stared at each other, the heightened senses of the moment draining away and leaving behind a surprise and deep within him a... longing for you? He wanted your hands on him again. Your warm mouth wrapped around him. He wanted to be your good boy. You both startled when you heard clapping and Raphael's simmering rage returned as he saw Haarlep coming out from behind a pillar, smiling with wicked delight.

"Amazing! Spectacular! You know, little tiefling, I might be able to learn a thing or two from you."

Your eyes widened as you realized he was an exact copy of Raphael's more devilish form. You looked back and forth between the two. One in strappy lingerie and the other switching between shock, anger and embarrassment as his cock softened and twitched in his lap.

You waved your hand in their direction and mumbled, "You know what? I don't want to know."

You reached for a napkin to wipe your mouth and left it on the table before turning back to the copy.

"How do I get out of here?"

Haarlep grinned and waved a hand to direct across the room.

"Just through those doors, darling! Nubaldin will be more than willing to show you the portal home, I'm sure. And do come back. It gets so boring here with just Raphael for company. Maybe we could-"

You held up a hand firmly.

"Nope. Thanks for your help, though."

As you turned to walk away, you saw him leaning over the back of the chair, whispering to Raphael.

"Get away from me!" Raphael spat as he swatted at Haarlep.

Laughter followed you all the way through the doors and to the portal.

~~~

Your legs ached from walking all over the city and damn why were his floors so hard? You decided to ask Gale about the knee stretches he does when you walked through the doors of your rooms at the Elfsong and halted abruptly. Everyone had turned to look at you, analyzing your appearance.

"There you are! We've been worried about you."

Karlach jumped up and ran over to throw an arm around you and check you over.

"Did everything go okay? What did you- wait." She leaned in and sniffed lightly, then grabbed your cheeks and pressed her face into your hair for a longer inhale. "Why do you smell like Avernus?"

Your cheeks heated as you knocked her hands away from you. You cleared your throat and smoothed down your hair, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"All you need to know is that Raphael shouldn't be bothering us anymore and no, I will not be answering any questions. Good night."

~~~

As you lay awake in your bed that night, you replayed the memory of the day, unable to comprehend that you had enjoyed having a taste of the devil.

Made For Each Other [Part 1]

~4500 words (I may have gone a little overboard I just really love poly erasermic)

Yandere erasermic x reader / soulmate au

| NSFW warnings: noncon, threesome, vague threats of violence

I’m gonna be putting this into parts (I’m thinking around 3?)

The first few weeks had been especially bad. Waking up with a chain connecting you to the floor in a bed that wasn’t yours in clothes that weren’t yours had been terrifying. You’d been scared of your captor, Shota Aizawa, to the point of tears at first, but now you were sitting on a barstool in his kitchen watching him make dinner.

“Hizashi is coming back tomorrow. You’ll have to get used to him being around, too,” he said, capturing your attention away from the book he’d given you, “He’s loud and excited to see you, but I’ll try to keep him calm.” You nodded when he looked at you, turning back to adjust something on the stove. You weren’t allowed all the way in the kitchen yet, but he said if you behaved you’d be able to soon.

“Wait, Present Mic? Why is he coming here?” You asked when he didn’t elaborate.

“He’s my husband,” he answered flatly. You furrowed your brow, but didn’t question it out of politeness. You nearly laughed at yourself aloud, worrying about being polite to someone who literally kidnapped you.

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Overstimulation (Aizawa and Hizashi)

18+ only content. Minors do not interact:

Warnings: Overstimulation, D/s dynamics, bondage, squirting

The binds around your thighs tighten as you reach another peak, forcing them apart despite your body’s resistance. Shouta’s cock spreads you perfectly, pulling moans and whimpers from your trembling form as you fall apart beneath him.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he assures you, smoothing a hand up your glistening stomach to stimulate your nipples.

You’re suspended in a way that allows him to do with you as he pleases. Sweat-soaked body helplessly exposed to his experienced touch. He moves between your weak spots seamlessly. Composed and focused, like a thief expertly cracking a safe’s combination.

“G-Gods-” you beg, crying out as he once again finds the right speed and rhythm. You choke on your moan when he rubs your clit, bringing a wolfish smirk to his lips.

“There it is.” Shouta teases, but devolves to deep, hungry growls when he looks down to watch you coat him in your essence. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“FUCK!” The praise pushes you over the edge. Your body convulses. The intensity of your orgasm causing you to sob. Shouta doesn’t stop. Fucking you through it until the final waves ebb.

With a sigh, he brushes the hair from his forehead.

“Feeling good?”

You nod, barely coherant but ready for more.

Suddenly, a buzzing fills the space between you, snapping your mind back into focus.

“Let’s find out if you’re a squirter.”

“Damn baby, you’re squirmin’ like an eel!” Hizashi mocks you, relishing the way you writhe against the overwhelming pleasure. You’re so full of him, stingingly sensitive as he rubs frantic circles on your clit, “Fuck. Come on. Good girl.”

“I c-can’t~” You whine, bucking in his grip. But Hizashi holds you still, keeping your body close as his hips roll deeper.

“Yeah you can. I got ya baby. Cum for me.” Your vision blurs when his head hits your sweet spot, pussy clenching as he fucks you through another mind-numbing orgasm.

You’re almost sobbing as you soak the sheets beneath you. Hizashi’s teasing chuckles turn to hissed praise when you clamp down oh him, temping him to fill you to the brim.

“You’re so -fuck- pretty like that,” he tells you, pressing feather light kisses to your neck and shoulder. A quiet hum escapes him when your walls give one last appreciative squeeze.

“T-Thank you… Sir.”

“Mhm.” Nimble fingers trail up and down your arms, coaxing you down from your epic high. You giggle as his mustache tickles your ear, only to tense up when he whispers, “ But I think you’ve gotta little more in you, Yeah?”

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