Low-key Wish He Was Real But Thats A Death Sentence For Me So~

Low-key wish he was real but that’s a death sentence for me so~

Hi do you write for Feitan because if so could I ask for Feitan having a young and dumb masochistic sister who is always wears revealing clothes which makes him constantly punish her, which doesn’t really bother her too much since she gets off to it.

If you don’t do Feitan you can replace him for Illumi, Chrollo, or Hisoka I’m not especially picky hehe~ thx.

WARNINGS || nsfw, incest, sex toys, name calling, face slapping, shibari, forced orgasms, begging + dacryphilia

You’re just so dumb. He wonders how you get through life when he’s not around because you’re just a little dimwit who’s only good for a good dicking.

Of course he feels sorry for you. You are his darling sister who he adores more than anyone else in the world but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get angry at you and you seem to enjoy testing his patience before he loses control.

You make sure to wear the tiniest skirts and dresses whenever he brings his friends home and when you have your own friends over, you parade around like some cheap whore and nothing else. He should be embarrassed by your behaviour but he’s too fucking focused on your tits and the way they bounce whenever you move to fast.

He’d asked you not to dress like that when he had guests over, especially since it was important business and now they all seemed discarded by his slutty sister.

So no, he’s not going to give in no matter how much you beg. You look good tied up and helpless and he’s not stupid, he knows you enjoy this shit a little too much so he won’t make it easy.

“Please” You beg, gasping as the rope digs into your skin the more you move. It hurts so good but it’s not enough, it’s never enough.

He hasn’t even touched you yet. He watches from where he’s sitting, your legs shaking from the vibrating sensations inside your pussy. You’ve already cum three times and it’s starting to feel intense and it hurts. You just want him to touch you.

“Slut” He scoffs, walking over to the bed to grab your jaw

“I need you” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as he slaps your cheek

“Whore” He says, glaring at you as he starts turns up the vibrator to a higher setting

You scream, arching as much as you can or rather, as much as the ropes would allow. You’re so sensitive and sore but you know he can go all night, he enjoyed torture and since he would never actually harm you any other way, he took it out on your body and you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

He can’t help but stare down at your face. You were beautiful sure but there was something so special about your crying face since he knew you only ever cried for him. It might have been sick but he liked to make you cry, it got him hard in no time and he would fuck you senseless.

“Fuck” You cry out, trying but failing to get your hands free. You would be in pain the next day for sure but you never really learned your lesson and it would only be a few more days before you did it again.

You couldn’t help but want his attention on you all the time even if it hurt.

a reminder

sometimes the first of the fauti harbingers, the director, need to remind those that are below him in rank who is really in charge, who holds all the cards, and who fucks their favorite little attendant the best. as a reminder.

contents: pierro x reader, childe x reader, fauti agent!reader who is afab and gender neutral, Dubcon, Power Imbalance (Reader cannot say no to their boss/leader/almost religious figure but is enjoying themselves), fingering, oral (reader to character), rough sex, biting, marking, reader is referred to as a 'beautiful' and a 'toy', reader is described as smaller than Pierro but no other terms are used, Childe Gets Cucked(tm)

a/n: this took me a really long time and has made me super anxious but fuck it. we ball. i hope you enjoy it, i'm pleased that i managed to keep going with it when my brain told me to quit.

Tartaglia, the youngest harbinger, sometimes should be brought in line. He is never egregious in his actions nor is his loyalty ever doubted but all must be reminded of their place.

That is what Pierro, the first and leader of the harbingers, believes and it is what spurred him into action this evening.

Of course he noticed how Tartagila chased you, hunting you down at any moment to tease and torment you. It was no secret to anyone else either, that you were the favored attendant of the 11th harbinger, that he touched you whenever he pleased, tugged at your clothes to catch a glimpse of you, pulled on your hair, and always had his eyes set on you the moment you appeared in the room. You were his distraction and it was becoming something of a nuisance- especially when Tartagila would pout if you were assigned somewhere else for too long or when he was denied permission to take you abroad.  

It wasn’t as clear if you returned those affections either, because even if you didn’t there isn’t a possibility you’d ever deny one of the harbingers something they wanted. When Tartaglia touches you too much or asks you a risque question, you light up red and stammer out a placating response. Pierro wondered if Childe had ever coerced you to his bed and claimed you yet– for surely if he wanted to he could have you. You had no right to say no, to him or to any of the Harbingers. 

Which is how you ended up in this predicament, standing before him. Your expression partially was hidden with the mask you wore, as all of your station did, but your lip trembled. You would never refuse Pierro, the first Harbinger and the one all answer to. When he first addressed you and ordered you to his office, to say you were terrified would be putting it lightly. The fearful and worried glances that your co-workers cast at you. The atmosphere chilled you more than any ice in the Tsarita’s realm but like a good, loyal member of the Fauti you nodded and replied with a quiet “Yes, My lord.”

What were his intentions with you in the beginning? He had wanted to punish Tartagila for getting too loud, too cocky, a reminder of the low rank he placed. To get rid of you, to harm you, or give you away as a reminder of his place in the pecking order.

But there is something to you, Pierro notes. Perhaps he can find himself agreeing with Childe’s infatuation with you, as he examines the nervousness in your form and the curve of your body even in the uniform.

His intentions change drastically the moment you stepped into his office and the door had shut close. 

Despite the nervous energy you exude, you keep your posture strict and your head lowered. Pierro sees the way your throat bobs when you nervously swallow and await what he has to say. 

He lets out a huff of air as he resigns himself to his decision and removes his elaborate cloak, draping it over his desk chair. It feels far too intimate for someone like you to witness; yet you cannot help but take in the way his clothes frame his broad shoulders and form. You would never deny that you believe him to quite handsome, and your heart beat quickens at the thought. 

He settles behind his desk, hands clasped over one another, and his visible eye not covered by the mask is as cold as the never melting snow. 

“You are trembling, like a petrified rabbit.” 

You swallow a yelp that threatened to escape and came out only as the smallest of squeaks that undoubtedly he picked up on– indeed you were like prey. “I am sorry, Lord Harbinger.” You manage out and he is slightly impressed by your ability to keep your voice as even as you did.

“No need,” He takes in your form and you shiver, feeling the way he studies you, thinking him to be scowling and not imagining what he wants to do to you first. “You are right to fear me. It shows you know your place.”

“Thank you, Lord Harbinger.” You wince at how fast the words tumbled out of your mouth. 

“There are others who would be… in need of a reminder.”

You blink, confused before he beckons to you with a flick of his hand. “Come here.”

You are breathing hard as you approach his desk, closer to him than you or any of your comrades have ever been to the director. Your steps are tentative and cautious, and you stop just before his desk but he beckons you again, a harsher, irritated, gesture that makes fear crawl through every nerve and you stumble forward. 

He is satisfied when you are standing right in front of him and his chair. Your posture is straight as possible and it feels like your heart is threatening to burst. Despite that you stand over him, the aura that surrounds him makes you feel impossibly small. 

“Tartaglia. You are often assigned to him, correct?”

There is a slight tilt to his lips as he watches you stiffen, watches you react as you panic. You believed you were to be punished for fraternization (albeit unwillingly, you are simply a loyal and dutiful attendant to the younger harbinger)

“I-”

“The Childe is so easily distracted by you,” Pierro says and while you dare not make eye contact with him, his gaze is starting to make you feel heat in a way that you should not in this frozen land, not in front of the first of the harbingers. “I believe… I understand why, now.” 

Your mind can’t process the words he just spoke, all fog and heavy until you feel a large, warm hand slide over the fabric of your uniform. You feel like you’re falling off the tallest peak, You think it’s a trick of your mind until you look to see his hand around your hip, sliding along your curves.

“You will not deny me.” He speaks it as a question but every aspect of him tells you it’s a demand. You nod your head vigorously.

“Of course, Lord Harbinger. I would never.”

He hums in agreement, a deep sound from his chest, and he’s tugging you closer to move you to him until you’re touching his knees. He manipulates you with ease, positioning you until you are sitting across his lap. You don’t dare to touch him so your hands sit idly before he pulls them to his shoulders. 

You are not sure if anyone has ever been this close to Pierro and lived to speak of it. You’re not sure if you will live to speak of it. 

Where you are unsure and timid, Pierro is confident in what he wants. His hand cups at your hips to pull you closer onto his lap and his other hand grips your chin so that you look at him.

“I do not desire a mere object, so do give me your best efforts.” His hand then moves to slip the mask off your face, showing him your nervous eyes and flushed cheeks. 

For a moment, you worry if your bare face is not to his liking; insecurity flaring up inside you. But then he pulls your chin in and presses his lips against yours. You stall but only for a moment, remembering his words and parting your lips to let his tongue inside, to let him kiss you as he pleases.

You would never think that you would be in the lap of the First of the harbingers, kissing him and tasting his tongue; which you found to taste sweet and you leaned into him to have more. You had thought if he was going to use you as Tartaglia does, he would simply have you over his desk or against the wall and would not care to caress or kiss you. But instead, he is sensual with his touches and seems more interested in making you melt under him. 

You fear you are a participant in some sort of punishment but the way he handles you is more of a reward than anything else. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt and you whimper into his mouth when he angles your head to the side to have more access to you.

When he pulls away, you are flushed and heaving; your lips swollen and wet. His expression is dark with desire as they watch how helpless you become. 

You try to form words, to say something, but all that comes out is panting. His hand slides down your chest, fingers methodically working at the buttons and clasps of your uniform’s shirt. The moment there is enough give for him too, he slides his hand into your shirt, easily slips under your undergarments, and cups at your breast. Although gloved, the mixture of the chill air and the heat from his hand makes your back arch and thighs squeeze together for just a bit of relief. 

His thumb rubs gentle circles over your nipple that sends heat throughout your body before he is opening more of your shirt until your chest is bare to him. The cold air and stimulation have your nipples hard and he returns to toying with them just a bit longer before he removes his hand.

Pierro holds his hand up to you. “Take them off,” he orders and you obey with a quick nod for you do not think you could make any words come from your throat right now. You slide the glove off his hand and before you even know what to do with it,  his thumb is pressing down at your lip to make you open, and then his fingers are in your mouth.

His gaze on you is intense and he is mesmerized by the way your spit coats his thick fingers. You make a mental note of his pleased hum and lick and suck on the digits in a deliberate way to show him just how well you would take care of other parts of him. 

And, clearly, this was a correct move because his lips part ever so slightly and his fingers push deeper into your hot mouth. You tighten your lips around them and suck, fluttering eyelashes as you dare to look up at him. A Squeeze on your waist and the throb of pressure beneath you tells you it is to his liking. 

To know that he desires you makes you feel hot all over, makes you ache. You would never believe yourself to be worthy– and still, you do not– but you do not wish to disappoint him.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spittle following in a trail from your lips. His hand that had been holding your waist moves up your back, causing you to lean back and he is soon pulling at the buttons of your pants. He is far less careful and slow than he was with your shirt and you can feel the thick pressure that is pressing hard against your ass with every movement you make. 

As soon as he is granted access, you find yourself gasping out a plea, for his large hand engulfs your cunt and is harshly palming and rubbing at you over your undergarments. He watches your expression so intently, as you gasp and writhe and squirm on his lap. You feel your hand that is around his shoulder get tangled in his hair, and you babble out an apology that comes out not nearly coherent enough– especially when his thick finger curls and presses so easily against you over the thin fabric that is soaked with your slick.

“So wet,” he comments, tone low and husky as he watches how you pant. “Aren’t you chilly?” You have no idea how you could be when he is making you feel this hot all over. “Spread your legs.”

You do as you are told and are rewarded by him slipping under the fabric that covers you and teasing your entrance with his middle finger. You whine, you roll your hips against his hand shamefully but he does not seem to mind. Instead, the hand supporting you move to the back of your head, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back. His mouth captures your cries so hungrily as he sinks his thick finger inside your heat. 

The wet sound of his finger thrusting in and out of you is so, so loud to you– despite your loud panting and whines and the sound of Pierro working against your mouth. He bites and sucks at your lower lip and you’re lost in the sensations he gives you with each deep thrust of his finger. 

“What a good little thing you are.” He murmurs against your lips and a lewd moan escapes you, the loudest noise you’ve made. And he is so entertained by your reaction to his praise, another slight curve to his lips, and more so when he slides a second finger in and the sting brings tears to your eyes.

“Does Tartgalia bring you this much pleasure?” He asks, his pace increasing until he is thrusting in and out of you at an unbelievable pace, palm occasionally pressing down on your swollen clit that pulses pleasure through you. “Has he ever made you feel this good?”

“N-no, no–” You gasp for air, lungs empty and your heart race as you find yourself hurtling towards your peak. “No, never– Not like you, My Lord-” One hard press of his hand has you breaking apart and he watches with rapt interest the way your moans escape and your eyes shut and your head falls back— the expressions you make are wonderful indeed, he thinks. His fingers slow their thrusting as you ride your high out, clenching so tight around him and coating his hand and thighs with your arousal. But he doesn’t seem the slightest put off by this, pleased with how you fall apart in his grasp and the control he has over you. 

Although it seems so… wrong to you. You are panting, feeling the aftermath of such an intense orgasm, and are being held by a man so high in power it’s dizzying. You can feel how hard he is and the first emotion to rise is guilt. Shame. 

“My… my Lord Harbinger-“ you are so breathless, the words are hard to form. “May I please submit a request?”

Pierro lets out a chuckle, a deep rumbling noise, at your professionalism despite your state. He leans into you, casting hot breath over your lips when he asks; “What is it?”

“Let me bring you pleasure,” Your hand grips his shirt, such a bold move from you but you need to steady yourself. “W-with my mouth- on my knees. Please.” It wasn’t right, you think, he should be using you and you should be pleasing him.

“So eager.” He said before kissing your lips once more, his palm rubbing between your legs just a bit more before he releases you. “Granted.”

You feel unsteady and your legs wobble as soon as you stand and the way his hands stabilize you by holding onto you makes you yearn for him- year to please him. So you are quick to kneel down to him and make your way between his legs.

He leans back in his chair and is pleased at the sight of you working at his pants— on your knees, desperate to have him in your mouth, to please him and worship him. Pierro is not one to display his desire so blatantly, but still he groans when he feels your hands touch his aching cock, hard and wanting.

You note how large he is, how thick he is. Dread creeps up in you as you imagine if he intends to take you with it. It would split you open and you can't tell if the thought of it arouses you or terrifies you— with determination you set out to make him cum with your mouth so that you may escape such a fate.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the hardness of his muscles, as you lean in and give him a tentative lick on the head– and you hear the slightest sigh from him and feel a hand find its place on the top of your head. He doesn’t grip your hair or force you down, he simply rests his palm as you slowly lick and kiss his cock.

It’s shameful how much this makes you ache, even after you were so generously given pleasure from him, but to know that he is hard after kissing you— that he wants you and is having you… It makes you feel like nothing else in the world and you channel that in determination to please him the best you could.

One hand wraps around his shaft as you wrap your lips around the tip and you look up with half-lidded eyes to watch his expression. He is watching you but you can see the flush forming on his face, the way his eyes are so dark with need. The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth as you suck on him, taking in more and more of his cock.

It is so big and far too thick, your jaw aches with how much you open for him and drool mixed with cum drips down your chin. Your eyes shut tightly as you feel tears start to form but you do not give up your efforts, taking in as much as you can. When he hits the back of your throat and you try your best not to gag, you whimper around him and a louder groan escape him and his fingers curl in your hair– you know you are doing good. 

Only the best for your Harbinger.

Sliding back until his cock releases from your mouth with a slick pop, your hand glides over his cock with ease thanks to the fluid that coats it. A long lick to the thicker vein along his cock and you take him back in your mouth, as far as you can, and his hips cant up into you. 

Another glance up to him and his head is lolled back against the chair, his eyes shut, and he is taking shallow breaths, and oh you want to reach down between your thighs, where you are aching so desperately, at the sight of it. But you have already been selfish, you think, you must serve him more.

You quicken your pace, even as your jaw stings and aches, bobbing your head up and down faster and faster, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, suck, and suck; to bring him to his peak so that when–

He yanks you by your hair and you are pulled off his cock, and you cannot prevent the cry of pain and shock you give out. You see his chest is heaving now and he is staring at you and his cock twitches and throbs- flushed red and glistening, denied its release.  

Had you thought wrong? Did you not please him as well? You attempt to apologize, but your voice comes out as a rasp and your throat is sore. You feel fear crawl into you at the thought before he releases his grip on your hair and motions you to stand.

“Strip.” He commands. While breathless, he does not lack for his dominating presence and you are removing what is left of your clothes faster than you ever have before. 

Your body shakes and you’re not sure if it’s fear or the chilly air or both, but you are obedient and await his next command. He rises from his chair and in a flash, his hands take your shoulders and you are spun around until his chest is warming you and you’re being bent over his desk. 

You shudder, anticipation mixed with fear, and your hands grip at the edge of his desk as you brace yourself for what is to come. Hands– now both bare– roam up and down your body, your breasts to your stomach and hips. Squeezing and feeling every inch of you.

“You are,” You feel the tip of him press against you, so thick and already too much, and you whimper. “Captivating.” 

He splits you open, slow and shallow thrusts as you take him in bit by bit. His girth is far more than anything you have ever experienced and shameful cries escape you. You bite at your hand in an attempt to silence yourself but he bends over you, his body much larger until you feel his hair tickle the back of your neck. His hands planted firmly on the desk next to your shoulders.

“You need not silence your cries, I find them to be quite pleasing.” And he thrusts harder, too much of him going in, and you jolt again the desk and cry out. Every cry and sob that comes from you makes his cock twitch inside of you, and when he bottoms out in you you don't think you've ever felt this level of fullness. 

He slides out, then again thrusts back into— harsh and with a resounding slap against— and soon he is fucking into you hard. Every hard thrust makes you jolt and your thighs sting from being slammed into the edge of the desk over and over. He is panting and grunting from atop you, the way you cry out and your cunt clenches around him makes him almost lose himself in you. He bites and kisses your skin, leaving mark after mark. Hands dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. He aches to spill himself inside you, to fuck you full, to feel you cum on his cock.

But then there is knocking at his door. You freeze under him in terror but he is expecting this, he does not relent. Instead his thrusts become less deep, slowing to grind against you instead, and he straightens and stands while you’re still wrapped around him. 

“Enter.” 

You are chilled to the bone, terrified and embarrassed as the door swings open, and whoever is will see you in such a state–

You are met with the wide-eyed, shocked expression that decorates Childe’s face.

“Tartaglia,” Pierro greets without stopping his thrusts, using his grip on your hips to slam you back against him- to make you cry out and watch as Childe winces. “You’re late.”

The door shuts behind Childe, whose eyes do not leave your trembling, fucked out face. His eyes reflect no light and bare no emotion but you can still see how he winces at every small whimper that escapes you. 

“Apologies, Director.” His voice has the slightest quake to it and you can’t bare to keep looking at him, not with the way Pierro’s cock in you feels and hits at a spot inside you that makes you cry out and drop your head down. “I was caught up.”

You cannot silence your moans even as they talk to each other; the sound of wet sound of him fucking you and the smell of your arousal cannot be ignored. Pierro once again yanks your head up by your hair, forcing you to face Childe once more. A rough thumb circles your clit and you cry out. 

“Our attendent is quite wonderful, Tartglia. I believe I’ve come to share your fixation.” Pierro states as if appraising the way your cunt squeezes him. “So beautiful, and so very obedient.” 

You blink away the tears in your eyes and see Childe’s strained face, the jaw his jaw is set tight and his fists are clenching, and– oh, the beginning of the bulge in his pants. 

“My dear little one,” you whimper at the pet name, “Who fucks you best?”

You can’t even begin to think, your mind is lost, and you cry out “You, my lord Harbinger- You, the Director- You, Pierro- You.”

“That’s right.” And you are rewarded with more strokes to your clit, a harsher thrust until you are flush against him, and you break once more. Pierro shuts his eyes tight as you cum against him, cunt sucking him in and the fluid that gushes out of you, and he does not stop the rocking of his hips. “I hope,” His voice is hoarse, breathless. “Our Childe will learn that, of Who comes before him. The one who is in control.”

Childe watches as you come apart on Pierro’s cock, as you grip at the desk and wail and make expressions he’s never seen. Watches you writhe in pleasure from someone who isn’t him and isn’t someone who he would dare go against. 

He sucks in a harsh breath. “I understand, Director.”

“Good. I’ll be generous and let you have your toy,” Pierro grips your jaw to pull you back up and sucks a kiss on your neck, loud and wet and leaving another, darker mark, and looks back to Childe. “Just remember who owns it. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

You’re fucked out, your mind is gone, drool and tears coat your face and you simply nod weakly in his hand. That curve to his lips is there again, and there is agony painted on Childe’s face as you respond.

“Of course,” Your voice is reduced to nothing but a sob, breathless and weak. “My Lord Harbinger.” 

Hi~~

Just wanna say I love your posts you remind me of one of my best friends and I love it.

Can I please please please ask you to write on where everyone on the task force is like ten minutes from walking in the door and we insist on giving L head despite his protests thx~~

You’re shifting on your knees in front of him, excitement building as you tug his cock out of his boxers.

“My love, we do not have time for this nonsense. The Kira Taskforce will be here in a short while.”

You giggle and smile up at him.

“You’ll just have to be fully in the moment then, i’m sure you can do it.”

L shakes his head, sigh whispering out as you slurp the tip into your mouth.

“Dear, I do not want my colleagues to see me in such a compromising position.” He nearly chokes at the end of his sentence, your hands coming up to stabilize yourself as you begin to bob your head, saliva dripping down to the hairy base of his cock.

He tries to explain to you why you shouldn’t be doing this but you really don’t care, your thirst for him needing to be quenched. So he lets you have your fun, going at your own pace for a few minutes until he realizes how little time you have left and decided to take matters into his own hands.

He makes sure you nod your agreement when he asks if he can take control and then fists your hair with his strong hands as he thrusts his hips rhythmically, stuffing your poor throat full of his drooling tip over and over again until he finally cums. White seed spilling up and out of your pink lips before he pulls out and casually tells you to swallow.

Obediently, you do so with a innocent look and use his legs to help you stand up before kissing him on the cheek with a giggle and sauntering off.

From up the stairs you hear the Taskforce walk in barely seconds after your departure, nearly choking when you hear Matsuda ask what the white stuff on the ground is.

“Do you trust me?“ Edit: This is consensual, please do not misinterpret it as non-con

M-my original husbands

9th Anniversary!

This more of this plz I need to find more of Ryo. Didn’t know I needed him til now

Ryo Kurokiba Filth

CW/TW: Fondling, light degradation, oral sex (reader giving) implied

MINORS DNI

Thinking about Ryo hearing you ask him for the first time to use you. You want him any way he wants to take you. Bound, blindfolded, sensory deprived, overstimulated it doesn’t matter. You just want him.

He smirks against your neck, “That’s what you want huh, you wanna be my fucking cocksleeve? Want me to fuck you raw until all you can think about is getting filled up with my cum?”

You whimper against him, walls tightening and so fucking wet from just his words.

Thinking about how he would grab your chin, forcing you to look at him, while his other hand moves your soft fingers to touch his hardening cock, pushing through the fabric of his pants.

“You just gave me permission to put this fat fucking cock inside you any way I want.” He’d lean forward to whisper in your ear, “Take it out.”

Your hands would pull at the waistline of his sweats, his dick twitching into your waiting hands as you try to think about how he would fit anywhere inside you. But your mouth waters and your cheeks flush and it’s getting so fucking hot in this room. Your hips would rock into him on instinct, trying to get some friction, just a taste of what he feels like against you.

Until he grabs your hips with both hands, bringing your movements to a halt. Your hand still barely wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Get on your fucking knees so I can give you what you want…. I’m gonna stuff that pretty little mouth of yours first.”

And you don’t think you’ve ever been more wet.